A New Chapter
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As a mother for over fifteen years, I’ve checked off all the usual milestones: from finally enjoying uninterrupted sleep to handling bathroom trips solo and being casually addressed as “Dude” by my kids. However, I recently crossed a milestone that I never anticipated: shaving my head.
I can’t quite remember the moment I resolved to stop dyeing my hair to conceal the grays that started to appear after my youngest was born. It likely happened amidst the chaos of meal planning for a family with diverse tastes and managing my children’s pandemic-era antics—like determining whether my child was genuinely unwell or just flexing their newfound power to stay home.
Who has time to color their hair while grappling with the stress of a pandemic? Perhaps a better question is why do we feel compelled to use our precious moments of solitude to chase an unrealistic standard of youthfulness? As the emotional anchor for my family—filling in the cracks of a broken system while sacrificing my professional ambitions—I realized I was also expected to maintain an appearance that met societal expectations.
So I decided to take a stand. I moved from the idea of gradually letting my hair go gray to taking clippers to my locks on New Year’s Eve. I wanted a fresh start, fully embracing my gray hair from the get-go. More importantly, I wanted to rebel against the societal norm that pressures women to appear youthful while they juggle caregiving responsibilities.
Honestly, my desire to shave my head wasn’t solely about challenging gender norms. It had been a long-held fantasy. I often wondered how I would look (I used to think I’d resemble a mole, but the truth is I looked like a fierce version of myself). I imagined the sensation of running my hands over my scalp (and it felt just as blissful as I hoped). I also longed for the simplicity of stepping out of the shower, free of a lengthy hair routine. The thought struck me: would I really let fear of not fitting traditional beauty standards keep me from experiencing this?
So, I did it. Bzzz. As clumps of hair fell into the sink, I felt liberated from the belief that I needed to be ‘cute’ in order to be worthy. It was astonishing how many societal expectations my hair had been holding onto. Staring at my reflection, I reveled in the newfound empowerment, savoring the sensation of my stubble.
In the days that followed, I battled the temptation to mask my new look with heavy makeup and flashy earrings—trying to make my shaved head more palatable for others. Women with shaved heads often face misconceptions, and I found myself resorting to mascara and silver hoops in an attempt to signal that I was not a “red flag.” It was uncomfortable, especially when people stared, assuming I was a cancer patient or a punk rocker. But I was just a mom tired of the all-consuming demands of motherhood that felt stifling.
Did I mention I was utterly exhausted and would rather use my “free” time to nap than style my hair? I sought simplicity and a fresh perspective as I transitioned into this next phase of life. Nothing about that felt wrong; everything felt right. Soon enough, I ditched the makeup and accessories, embracing my unfiltered self. When my traditional, 80-year-old mother saw me for the first time on FaceTime, her jaw dropped, and she exclaimed, “You’re beautiful!” It took us both by surprise.
I’m uncertain where this journey will take me. Perhaps this is merely a detour on the way to a pixie cut. Who knows if I’ll stop here or grow my hair back? But embracing the identity of a woman with a shaved head has subtly empowered me. Now, when faced with challenging decisions, I often ask myself, “What would a woman with a shaved head do?” This mindset has helped me make bolder choices with healthier boundaries. For instance, when a man invaded my personal space in line at a store, I didn’t shy away; I firmly told him to step back—without an apology.
Looking back, shaving my head was a profound act of self-care. Not the superficial kind that encourages mothers to merely pamper themselves to maintain societal norms, but authentic self-care that dismantles toxic expectations and reclaims our rightful power as women and mothers.
To any mom out there thinking, “I wish I could shave my head,” here’s the truth: you absolutely can. If you feel you can’t, take a moment to reflect on why. What is holding you back?
Just recently, I went on a weekend trip and, for the first time in years, didn’t pack a blow dryer or any styling tools. My load felt lighter—quite literally.
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Summary
In a personal journey of empowerment, Jamie Thompson recounts her decision to shave her head during the pandemic, breaking free from societal expectations of beauty and motherhood. Embracing her gray hair, she finds liberation and self-acceptance while exploring what it means to be a woman unbound by traditional norms.
Keyphrase: shaving head empowerment
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