THE 5 REASONS WHY I DID AWAY WITH THE WIG
I hated the way I looked in the mirror
The wig was the first thing I took off when I got home, but when I looked in the mirror, I didn't like my face. I removed the eyebrow make up, the foundation, and the wig. I was left with my plain face and my bald head. I looked empty, I looked boring, and I looked like I needed something to be pretty again. So, in the morning the wig was the first thing I put on.
My Mom did all she could do
My mom is Filipina and she has always had long, black, and silky hair. All my life I wished I had hair as tamed as hers. We often bonded by going on long drives around the city. I was her only daughter, so I was a little bit spoiled. Every weekend, we shopped at our favorite boutique in National City. She could help me with everything. . . everything except hair loss. She had no idea how I got Alopecia. She only knew to console me when I needed it.
It was the first day I had prepared to wear a wig in public. I was in the sixth grade scared and embarrased. I hid in the closet hoping to ditch school, but eventually cried to my mom when she got home from work. Lord have mercy on my father for slapping that wig on my head. It looked like someone chopped off Annie’s fro and threw a gallon of jerry curl grease ontop. Every morning before first period, I stayed in the car with my mom dreading the moment I was called to class. My classmates teased me and threatened to pull off my wig while at recess. During passing periods, I hid in the classrooms to avoid any further engagement with other students. My older brother even came to the school to protect me from the harrassment. My mother was fed up. She held an assembly with my entire school (teachers, principles, and students) to educate everyone about my difficulties with Alopecia. She expressed to them what I couldn’t share for myself. She told them that losing my hair wasn’t a choice and that I was suffering from the shock of it all. Mostly, she bridged the gap of understanding.
After a few months of total embarrassment to which I thought I would never emotionally recover, my mother came to the rescue once again. She took me to LA every six to twelve months to purchase a new and improved wig. With each year, my wigs upgraded. But as I grew older, I began to understand the meaning of what she was really doing. Mom spent between $900 - $1,600 per wig without a question asked. She was never concerned about the price as long as I was confident in what I wore. Looking back, my mom was a single mother working graveyard shifts as a nurse while supporting her two youngest children. I couldn’t keep draining money from her hard earned pockets just to help mask my biggest insecurities. It was time for me to do my part in building my own confidence. I was eighteen years old when I starting buying my own wigs.
Wigs are itchy and expensive
For most of my childhood, I can remember being insecure as I moved through the day. I was self conscious with every move. My mind hoarded these continuous thoughts;
Do people notice that I’m wearing a wig?
Can people see the wig net?
Is my hair in place?
People must be staring because my hair looks fake.
I wish I didn’t have to leave the house.
Uploading a YouTube video without my wig
At eighteen I woke up one day with the urge to upload my first YouTube video about my thoughts on Alopecia. I was new to Youtube at this time and thought nothing of who would watch my video. That day, I woke up and thought to myself that someone else in the world might relate to what I had to say. I even took off my wig to show how my hair had grown in the shape of a mohawk! I wasn’t scared at all. As far as I knew, it was just me and a camera. I did not think much about the feedback. I didn’t expect much at all, so I was increasingly shocked with the response. I received messages from Africa, Australia, Europe, and countries I had never heard of. Woman were replying to me about being diagnosed at 30 years old. Teenagers wrote to me about their experiences with Alopecia and how much they loved my video. To be connected with the world helped me experience pure gratitude for the first time.
Wigs restricted me from being myself
It wasn’t until I stopped wearing wigs that I realized I wasn’t a true reflection of myself. From the way that I walked to the way that I spoke. My mannerisms altered based on the wig I was wearing. My wardrobe was a carbon copy of the popular kids. Heck, I fit in better with certain friends because of my luxurious lace front wigs. Once, in high school, my hair grew back seven inches. I wore it out freely, but was told by a classmate of mine that I looked hotter with a wig. My hair fell out two months later. My classmate’s comment repeated in my mind until I did away with the wig at twenty four years old.
When I became a gigging musician, I learned it was encouraged to be different. Understanding my uniqueness was the first step to owning my confidence. I never intended to perform on stage without a wig. At ten years old, I didn’t have the capacity to imagine a life confident enough without it. Somehow, that desire existed inside of me and made its way to the surface when the opportunity rose.
