Home > Communication, Death, Health, Learning, Personal, Reflections > One month bald: The walls outside & the light within

One month bald: The walls outside & the light within

“People are like stained glass windows; they sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light within.”
—  Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

Many years ago, my brother asked me to picture a mutual friend of ours.

After I had her image firmly in mind, David asked, “Do you see her scars?”

I did not. Her face had seemed perfectly reconstructed in my mind before he asked; in light of his question, I felt ashamed, as if I’d been caught in the act of surreptitiously editing a work not my own.

My brother’s take was different. “You don’t picture it for the same reason you don’t really see it when you’re with her. It’s irrelevant. Her beauty shines from within, not from the specific arrangement of features on her face.”

The conversation was much more extensive than this, and my brother’s overall approach much more nuanced, but this is the part that has stuck with me. It was the part on my mind after I shaved my head for St. Baldrick’s last month.


I expected to be a wreck during the actual shaving. I also expected to be mildly chagrined by how baldness emphasized my already prominent forehead. What I didn’t expect was that I’d feel more beautiful than I ever had before.

I also didn’t expect the staring.

The day after I shaved my head, I caught a couple dozen—yes, a couple dozen—adults staring at me with eyes wide and mouths agape. I felt confident and gorgeous with my newly fuzzy head, so it was easy for me to smile back at strangers even while my discomfiture grew.

I wondered: What if I had lost my hair to cancer treatments? What if I were struggling to feel beautiful and strong in the face of the fight of my life? A fight for my life?   

My stomach knotted at these thoughts, yet despite my initial chagrin, I quickly stopped noticing the stares. I even forgot that I’d shaved my head. A neighbor asked, “What did you do?!” following which I launched into an explanation about how she’d heard my son, Li’l D, screaming because I’d forced him to get off the elevator. (The nerve!)

My neighbor gestured to my hair and said, “I mean, to your hair!”

I laughed and said I’d had it shaved for a charity. With her hand to her heart, my neighbor said, “Thank God. I thought you were going through chemo.”

Once in a while, though, someone’s attention is so obvious it’s impossible not to notice. In these cases, I’ve continued my strategy of simply smiling back, an astonishingly effective means to get someone to stop staring.

Out to get lunch in the middle of a recent workday, I caught a woman staring at me with a mixture of sadness, dismay and pity so blatant, it totally disarmed me.

After a moment, I smiled at her and she looked away. For about two seconds. She then resumed staring, looking away again for only as long as I gazed and smiled directly at her.

The scenario played through my head for hours afterward. I wished I’d piped up, as recommended by blogger Counting Caballeros, “Thank you for staring. I shaved my head to raise awareness for childhood cancer, and since I obviously have your undivided attention, would you like your donation to pediatric cancer research to be cash, check, or charge?”

I don’t know what it’s like to fight cancer firsthand. I don’t know what that encounter would have felt like if I were fighting cancer right now. All I have is my imagination, and in my imagination, the feeling was horrible.

The feeling wasn’t about the hair. It was about what hair, or the lack of it, seemed to automatically represent: the presence of illness. The reminder of human mortality.

I felt an invisible wall of “otherness” being built around me as I recalled the emotions reflected in that stare, and those I witnessed right after I shaved my head.

I wondered: Would I be so different if I were fighting cancer? Would I somehow be less human, or less worthy of the common courtesies afforded someone with a full head of hair? Or would I still be me, Deb, just trying to enjoy a bite of lunch without being reminded that I’m not only fighting cancer but that I’m also now set apart in the eyes of those around me?

I can’t go back in time. I can’t redo that lunchtime encounter. But the next time I experience this, I’m going to say something. I don’t know what, exactly, or if it will be inspired by the above recommendation from Counting Caballeros, but something. Something that reminds others that I am human. That we are all human, whether tall or short, skinny or round, black or white, bald or hairy, fighting cancer or cancer-free.

And now, here, I’m going to ask you to say something if you find yourself caught in the act of staring. If you’re curious, or concerned, or just want to say, “I’m sorry, but you’re so radiant, it’s impossible to look elsewhere,” please do. Say hi. Embrace the awkwardness, for words like these connect even as they potentially embarrass us. Instead of building invisible walls between people, they are part of our building bridges of understanding.

I’m glad my neighbor asked what happened to my hair. Her words opened a dialog that brightened my day. In both asking and the way she asked, I felt that no answer I gave would’ve scared her or inspired her to treat me differently, apart from perhaps to share words of support.

If the thought of talking to a stranger terrifies you, consider offering a smile. The power of a smile is enormous.

It’s that smile that shows the light within, and all those beautiful lights within reflected outward that brighten the world for all.

Feeling that light shining

© 2012 Deborah Bryan. All rights reserved.
Duplication in whole or substantial portion is explicitly forbidden.

  1. April 24, 2012 at 6:45 pm

    I am so proud of you — I’m going to see if I can do it next year. I’ve wanted to for years, as I have hair that would make a good wig for someone who needs it.

    • April 24, 2012 at 7:41 pm

      I hope you end up doing it, because it is absolutely as liberating as I was told it would be! And it really is eye-opening, too.

  2. April 24, 2012 at 6:59 pm

    My shave was a week and a half ago. I have never felt so confident and beautiful as I do bald. I haven’t gotten much in the way of pity stares, but I did get laughed at and gawked at when I ran out to do some shopping a couple of days post shave. It was ridiculous. I felt like I was in high school getting made fun of for my appearance again. It broke my heart that someone who might have the very real hardship of losing their hair to chemo might get made fun of and laughed at for something out of their control. And mind you, these were adults. Some of them had small children. If I wasn’t tired from taking care of a sick kid all day, I might have had the energy to try to school them.

    My hair is growing so fast that I’m already missing the bald. I think I might maintain it. Of course I say this during a very warm year. I could regret this come November.

    • April 24, 2012 at 7:50 pm

      Argh! Why laugh? Why mock? Ever? I wish I could askm “What are you trying to accomplish?” Maybe that’s what I’ll ask if there’s a next time.

      I expected curiosity from children, but not such blatant filling-in-the-blanks from adults. It feels so strange to look back on a month ago and see that, so far since, I’ve gotten mild curiosity at best from the wee ones. I hope they’ll keep that openness no matter what else they see modeled.

      On another note altogether, yay for rocking the bald! May there come a day where baldness is never again caused by cancer!

  3. April 24, 2012 at 7:33 pm

    People can be so icky. You still look pretty.

  4. April 24, 2012 at 7:41 pm

    You look beautiful in the picture without hair! I can’t imagine shaving my head, since I do feel very much defined by it – as you can tell, from the name of my blog – but if I ever found myself battling cancer, I’m sure I’d still find the strength to feel beautiful and healthy without it. Good for you, doing that for charity.

    • April 24, 2012 at 7:56 pm

      Mine was a fairly last minute decision, unlike the friends who inspired me. Having signed up thusly, I simply hoped I’d come out of it looking half as beautiful as my mom did without her hair; when I looked in that mirror right after my hair was shaved, I found I’d never looked more like her. It was an amazing thing to see so much of her in me, through that same fierce grace. Even just typing this I feel as if she is with me, and that is beautiful.

  5. Donnell Jeansonne
    April 24, 2012 at 7:58 pm

    I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. Thank you for raising awareness and funds toward pediatric cancer. Several times I’ve grown out my hair and cut it to donate it for children who’ve lost theirs. I imagine it’s harder on the girls than the boys. And I’m grateful that Doodles has a dad who is already bald ( :) ), so when his hair comes out he won’t feel so out of place. I’d gladly shave mine to make him feel better, too. And I hope that one day in the not so distant future he’s well enough that I can explain to him your story, and others who have done/are doing/will do so much for this cause.

    • April 25, 2012 at 5:25 am

      I regret frequently that I didn’t follow Chris and Karin’s lead and sign up much, much sooner. There was only so much I could do in a week and a half. I’m nevertheless glad I did that, and glad to have been part of an eye-opening, inspiring event.

      Your “already bald” comment made me giggle. And that last sentence? I share that hope, so, so deeply.

  6. April 24, 2012 at 8:39 pm

    Just a beautiful post. Truly. You have a gracious spirit. I would have been more snarky. Probably.

    • April 25, 2012 at 5:29 am

      Thank you. ♥ I’d hoped to write a post that’d allow me to share a few wig photos–the one I occasionally wear at the office and the green one I wore to the Big Bang Theory wrap party–but that didn’t end up being the post I wrote. I tried to coax it that direction, but alas!

  7. April 24, 2012 at 8:42 pm

    Ah, love this, especially this: “If you’re curious, or concerned, or just want to say, ‘I’m sorry, but you’re so radiant, it’s impossible to look elsewhere,’ please do. Say hi. Embrace the awkwardness, for words like these connect even as they potentially embarrass us. Instead of building invisible walls between people, they are part of our building bridges of understanding.” May we build, rather than destroy, as many bridges as we can!

  8. April 24, 2012 at 8:48 pm

    I hated losing my hair. Hated it. When I’d been having chemo for hmm..about a fortnight..I suddenly couldn’t cope with it coming out in tufts anymore, so impulsively shaved it. How I felt straight after, I can’t find the words for. I used to avoid going out because I got so sick of people staring. I think it’s just so confronting to people. Having said that, some people were lovely and went out of their way to make me less uncomfortable at the few social outings I attended bald(well headscarfed haha). And there were people -strangers- who would help me with my shopping, pick things up for me when my then baby went through that delightful throwing things out of the pram stage and generally showed alot of empathy without being pitying.

    You look beautiful with and without hair :)

    x

    • April 25, 2012 at 5:50 am

      I thought about hair loss some yesterday, as I thought about putting up this post (which was actually written the evening of the lunchtime incident). I found even the thought of losing it in little tufts distressing, so that I found myself thinking I’d probably shave it all off if it came to that.

      I used to avoid going out because I got so sick of people staring.
      Argh. I wish I could say something more eloquent, but argh. When I was little, my mom taught me that it’s natural to be curious about things that are different, but that you can capture the image and assess what it means from just a moment’s glance. I agree that it’s natural to look, but why the staring? What does that accomplish, save alienating and isolating? Perhaps it is this: “I think it’s just so confronting to people.”

      There were a couple of incidents early on where I said to Ba.D., “Wow, can you believe a stranger helped me do xyz?” His eyes would flit to my head and I’d exclaim, “Oh, right!” There have definitely been some kindly responses, some amazing smiles, and many who haven’t paid attention at all. I find all of these “empathy without being pitying” moments heartening. :)

      And thank you! ♥

  9. April 24, 2012 at 11:45 pm

    Beautiful post, you capture the emotion so well, and you look stunning.

    Jane

  10. April 25, 2012 at 12:31 am

    Love this! Especially the idea to say: “Thank you for staring. I shaved my head to raise awareness for childhood cancer, and since I obviously have your undivided attention, would you like your donation to pediatric cancer research to be cash, check, or charge?”

    I truly appreciate your insight into the various reactions that you received!

    You look gorgeous either way but maybe when it grows back you’ll tie it back sometimes to let that pretty face shine through!

    • April 25, 2012 at 5:55 am

      Thank you, Sarah! Ba.D. keeps coaxing me not to grow it out too fast. I’m curious to see what it looks like a couple of months out. I could imagine keeping it short, despite my teenage vow I’d never go short again. :)

      Counting Caballeros had me exclaiming aloud with that one! Perhaps I ought memorize it?

  11. April 25, 2012 at 1:03 am

    I’ll be honest- I’d probably stare wondering if you’re a lesbian. When I was single, I would have also wondered if you were available.

    However, when I was in… middle school, I noticed one girl in the school with a shaved head. I was too little to understand much, but I knew something wasn’t “right.” I stared at her sometimes, wondering about her life, but feeling too undeserving to ask her.

    In any case, you look gorgeous. So do most people with no hair (whether they had a choice in that or not).

    -MTO

    • April 25, 2012 at 5:59 am

      I’ll be honest- I’d probably stare wondering if you’re a lesbian.
      I’ve gotten a few of these stares, too! I remember them from my earlier (inadvertent) foray into short hair. I’ve been flirted with in a way that’s definitely brightened my day. One lady was actually crestfallen when she saw Li’l D, as if one couldn’t both have a child and be a lesbian.

      Thank you, and I agree re: people with no hair! It’s funny, but once you remove the hair, it’s easier to see all the other beauties there.

  12. April 25, 2012 at 3:13 am

    “If the thought of talking to a stranger terrifies you, consider offering a smile. The power of a smile is enormous.”

    Love this. I get so nervous about talking to strangers, even if it’s something really small. But usually people are pleasant and responsive, and (as you mentioned) opening up the lines of communication can be good for both people.

    Also, you rock for being involved with St. Baldrick’s! It sounds like a great organization.

  13. April 25, 2012 at 4:58 am

    Just a couple days after you shaved your head, I started seeing people who were bald. I’m not sure if I was just more aware because I knew you were doing it; I kept wondering those people were involved with St. Baldrick’s, too.

    • April 25, 2012 at 8:00 pm

      Hear that. I remember noticing a lot more pregnant people when I was pregnant, and babies once I’d had Li’l D. I knew they had to have been there before, but they didn’t register as loud as they did after I’d had cause to start seeing them.

  14. April 25, 2012 at 5:07 am

    You are marvelously inspiring, beautiful whether bald, fuzzy or with a full head of hair.

    • April 25, 2012 at 8:05 pm

      Thank you, Valentine. I feel the same about you. Your words open my eyes to worlds I’d otherwise never see so clearly.

  15. April 25, 2012 at 5:09 am

    Thanks, Deb. This is passionate and eloquent.

  16. April 25, 2012 at 5:27 am

    A fabulous post, as always! I think a bald head on a woman brings out a whole range of emotions in people; the most powerful being a reminder of our mortality. I’m a very smiley person and usually smile at anyone that I make eye contact with. Having had a mom who went through chemo when I was young, and a daugter who shaved her head out of rebellion as a teen, I hope my smile shows a bit of understanding and not pity. I’d never want to ruin anyone’s day. :(
    PS–Do you know that I’d kill to have cheekbones as nice as yours?

    • April 25, 2012 at 5:36 am

      Oh, but the smiles are beautiful! There’ve been a handful of gorgeous smiles that just show so much love and joy and grace, thinking about them makes me smile in turn. Those have been fewer than the stares numerically (or have seemed that way because usually there’s no cause to mark a good smile!), which are accompanied with horror so comical in extremeness that it could feature in a B-movie. I’d best liken it to the offended grammar nazi from my stick figure post on the subject.

      A smile, though? That’s magic. Truly. It’s an affirmation of shared humanity.

      • April 25, 2012 at 5:49 am

        :) :) :) You’re so right! And I’m glad you’ve had more smiles than stares. :)

  17. April 25, 2012 at 5:30 am

    I really loved this post. And I love the selflessness that went into you shaving your hair.
    It’s hard…if someone was going through chemo they’d feel weak in so many ways and to have people stare… it’s not nice to think about. I don’t know if I’d be in the stare category but I sure will endeavour not to be after reading this lovely brave post.
    Proud of you across the bloggy community and from Ireland x

    • April 25, 2012 at 8:13 pm

      I don’t know that it was selfless so much as spontaneous. I got so much more from it than I could give, regrettably, and that’s the truth.

      It’s funny, because part of me goes, “Ugh, staring!” but then I caught myself observing something surprising and staring a few days ago. I wish I could remember what it was, but I told Ba.D. later, “It happens–it’s what you do afterward that counts!” In my case, that was saying, “Oops, sorry, zoning out there!” followed by mutual smiles.

      Many, many thanks for this lovely comment!

  18. Diane
    April 25, 2012 at 5:33 am

    When I look at the before and after pictures…I can see that you are =beautiful=…in every aspect, in every way…both inside…and out… Thank you for this post!

  19. April 25, 2012 at 5:52 am

    I see a girl on the left (hope you don’t mind my saying that) and yes, a gorgeous woman on the right. I agree with you in your comment to feistyredhead, you look very much like your mom in the second photo. I hope I’m not staring…but if I am, in a good way. The difference between the two photos is stunning.

  20. April 25, 2012 at 6:52 am

    You have a good head for shaving. Looks very sleek. I know that’s the exact opposite of the point you’re making, but as someone whose scalp has little bumps and oddities, I noticed.

  21. April 25, 2012 at 9:19 am

    Great post, Deb! xoxo I am loving you with the shaved head. Not so much my own head though. I liked it for a day or two until my kids were bothered by it, then they got used to it but then the other kids at school were freaked out by it, and even my hubs doesn’t love it. I am struggling to just feel what I want to feel, and that is beautiful.
    Deep down, I have never felt prettier. It’s weird what other people deem beautiful. I get lots of stares, too. The other day we were at Target and I walked down an aisle where an older woman was, and she quite literally stopped what she was doing to stare at me. For what felt like forever. I had to walk away and asked Chris what the hell she was staring at, and he said probably my hair.
    WHY?

    • April 29, 2012 at 7:41 am

      I love you with your shaved head, too. I think you look gorgeous, and I love how the absence of hair makes it easier to see all of the other beautiful features about someone–only some of which are on the outside!

      I’m sorry that it’s been a struggle to feel beautiful, and that there’s been so much negative attention to it. I got a really fabulous email (that I need to reply to) where one lady talked about being given grief for not being feminine enough (in a beauty-driven industry) after she shaved her head. It’s the craziest thing to me. She looked gorgeous in her photos, and absolutely feminine.

      Reflecting on your comment, and some of my experiences, I think of my time teaching in Japan. Sometimes it was startling how forthright students and teachers were about telling someone they looked or were doing something wrong, but it was easy to see upon my return that we do the same here, too. We just try to conceal it, which ends up making it even more uncomfortable.

      I feel like I went into this to join you and Chris and honor Donna, but I’m coming out of it with such a different set of knowledge and understanding. Before, I didn’t see how much importance was placed on hair generally; now, I feel like I’m in the process of learning how beauty has been defined culturally. I believe it’s ripe for a redefinition. There are a million ways to be beautiful, and I would love to see that broadly understood.

      • May 3, 2012 at 7:33 am

        Thank you, Deb. I have to agree with you that there is too much emphasis on hair in relation to beauty. I’ve also gotten way more out of this experience than I bargained for. It’a a learning experience and an eye-opener for me.
        The things is, I do feel beautiful. It’s the people around me that make me feel less than. I’m also still feeling like Chris not loving the super short hair is affecting our relationship somehow, but maybe that’s all in my head.
        Love and light to you, friend. xoxo

  22. April 25, 2012 at 10:29 am

    “And now, here, I’m going to ask you to say something if you find yourself caught in the act of staring. If you’re curious, or concerned, or just want to say, “I’m sorry, but you’re so radiant, it’s impossible to look elsewhere,” please do. Say hi. Embrace the awkwardness, for words like these connect even as they potentially embarrass us. Instead of building invisible walls between people, they are part of our building bridges of understanding.”

    So lovely and bridges all gaps. I was at the infertility doc this morning and there were no less than 20 other women there, all with heads down, eyes averted. I tried to make eye contact and smile, but no one would look at me. We are all connected somehow, we can try harder to relate. I love this post.

    • April 29, 2012 at 7:48 am

      We are all connected somehow, we can try harder to relate.
      I absolutely agree. Sometimes it’s hard and uncomfortable, but the payoff–that real connection with those around us–is sustaining, and worth it. I love your comment, and l love you.

  23. April 25, 2012 at 10:55 am

    I do think you look gorgeous, bald or fuzzy topped. I only wish I had the nerve to get rid of my hair, life would be much simpler.

    • September 10, 2012 at 6:43 pm

      Thank you! I love how simple hair care has been the last five months. I would highly recommend both the shortness of my hair and the path to that shortness.

  24. Missy Peterson
    April 25, 2012 at 11:18 am

    Perhaps you could say “I am not my hair” in your very best India Arie voice :-) and go from there! What a great blog post!

    • September 10, 2012 at 6:44 pm

      When I read your comment, I’d only just heard that song for the first time, Missy! Ba.D. had played the album it came on maybe a couple of hours prior. I never did have a chance to use the line, but my time might come again. :)

  25. Anne Kaiser
    April 25, 2012 at 11:27 am

    Something about the shaved head and good straight spine makes a woman look powerful to me. Filled with her own strength, not relying on any external ingredient to make her who she is. You look elegant and confident.

    • September 10, 2012 at 6:46 pm

      Thank you so much, Anne. Your comment is beautiful (♥ “Filled with her own strength, not relying on any external ingredient to make her who she is”) and I second it wholly, all the more in the months since I posted this and have seen so many more bald pictures in my Facebook food. It takes away the extraneous and allows easier focus on the goodness at the core.

  26. Kim
    April 25, 2012 at 11:49 am

    My mom has Alopecia Universalis, and goes through what you’re describing here on a daily basis. At first she was embarrassed, and always wore a wig. She didn’t know who she was without her hair. Now, almost 10 years later, she’d rather be poked in the eyes with hot iron than wear a wig.

    Her first step was no wig, but with a hat. That started the stares. One day she met another woman who had Alopecia, and that woman had gotten a tattoo on her bald head. My mother came home, and told me that she was going to get one. In fact, she said, ‘They’re going to stare anyway, so I might as well give them something to stare at!’ I thought this was a fantastic idea. Today, her entire head is covered in gorgeous tattoos… 22 sittings worth!

    She uses the staring as a tool as you suggest here. If she catches the staring, she smiles and explains Alopecia. She’s gone to the classroom of a child who has Alopecia to explain it to the kids, after one of the beautiful bald little girls we know came home from school crying because students were making fun of her, and kids on the bus had been slapping her on the head. Acceptance of those that are different from ourselves has to start somewhere, and it’s so nice to read your message here.

    If I’ve intrigued you with the tattooed head talk, here’s a link to our New England Alopecians Unite facebook page. Flip through the pics… I’m sure you’ll be able to guess which one my mom is <3

    https://www.facebook.com/neauinc

  27. NJenno
    April 25, 2012 at 12:47 pm

    Having first lost my hair at the age of 11…. I loved reading this blog & the comments. I wear a wig now, but didn’t always… the part about being a woman and losing your hair being so different than for a man really struck a chord with me.

    I have only just got to a stage in my life where I will walk to the bin or the car without my “hat”…. but could not bring myself to go to work without the “protection” that my wig offers.

    I am a trainer/ facilitator…. and part of my client group is those with medical conditions/ ailments that have made it difficult for them to go into work….. sometimes I share and take my wig off in front of them in the classroom in a hope that this may perhaps “inspire” them…. or maybe I want to “challenge” them if they do not feel they are able to go to work…. we live in a world where people either stare, shout abuse, snigger amongst themselves …. but rarely consider that the real person behind …. sometimes with a story to tell…. sometimes wanting to be left in peace… maybe that is what’s at the heart of the problem.

    I am 40 now, happily married, and in some respects past caring…. but in know in my heart of hearts that if that were strictly true…. I would go about my business without a hot, sweaty and darned uncomfortable wig…..

  28. April 25, 2012 at 2:57 pm

    Your inner beauty shines through your outside. But besides that; damn girl – you’ve got great bones!

  29. April 25, 2012 at 4:16 pm

    Ahhh, FINALLY, I have time to enjoy this post, and you. You’ve actually made me think a little differently about people staring. My normal reaction is, “Are you SERIOUS? Can you BE any more rude?” but with your restaurant encounter, I think maybe staring is the reaction I WANT. The reminder that people CAN be affected. It sounds like this woman might have really been shaken up, and not known how to handle it. And I see something so hopeful in that. :)

    Of course – if anyone can inspire hope in this jaded world, it’s you!

  30. April 25, 2012 at 5:05 pm

    Thank you for brightening my day, Deborah.

  31. April 26, 2012 at 9:00 pm

    Wonderful post, Deb! I’m reading this late at night and feel good that I’ve ended my day with your inspiring words.

  32. malcolm
    April 27, 2012 at 6:26 pm

    keep myour head up my friend and ill keep you in my prayors cause with God all things are possible

  33. May 1, 2012 at 6:29 am

    You are a lovely, lovely thing, and- as I’m sure you’re learning- hair doesn’t have a thing to do with it :)

  34. May 1, 2012 at 1:36 pm

    Your brother was right. It’s not the hair or the face that makes one beautiful. And you’ve proven him right.

  35. May 2, 2012 at 1:23 pm

    You look great… ;-)

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