tye

I met Tye on a dating app early this year. We never met formally but became friends on social media. I had also bumped into her a few places around town, the first being at a drag show, where she was knitting during the intermission.  

I was excited when Tye reached out willing to share a story. We had never hung out before, and I saw this as an opportunity to get to know them and make a new friend. 

I had just gotten off work when I rode into Toftrees to Tye’s apartment complex. It was early-onset-dark outside and there was a December thunderstorm rolling through. Tye met me at the path to their apartment. I exclaimed how excited I was about a thunderstorm in December, to which she replied, “Not me, I’m a scaredy cat.”  

Tye walked me to her apartment as we continued chatting about the weather. Her space was very homey and comfortable with only the slight discomfort of a first meeting looming over us, which soon subsided. I sat at Tye’s desk, they sat on their bed, and a yarn project sat on their dresser.

After making sure she was comfortable proceeding, it was time for the story to commence. 

I guess my focal point is my alopecia. I originally experienced the symptoms of alopecia, like, in middle school. And basically, it’s just, like, your immune system attacks your hair follicles and you just don’t have hair.

 

Tye described that alopecia can be triggered by certain things, like stress or doing a lot to your hair. At the time, she was dyeing her hair and getting it straightened, “It’s very limiting because, like, I want to experiment with my look!” She said with a laugh as she gestured toward her head, “You kinda can’t do that.”

 

Tye did initially see a dermatologist for steroids to make their hair grow back, but nowadays, they embrace their look.

I think in middle school, I would wear hats and stuff, and I would just try to be like, ‘nothing’s going on, nothing’s wrong.’ … I tried to not embrace it, per say, and tried to kinda mask it, I guess, and I feel like it was not convincing to other people. Kids in my class would, like, try to pull my hat off. I was so ashamed to even talk about it.

Tye continued, “I guess now, I’m not in middle school anymore.” She shared that shaving her head was freeing, and she hasn’t looked back since. She does own wigs, but typically, Tye just rocks her head bald. She shares that so much has changed for her influencing her decision to embrace baldness.

 

I feel like, being younger, I think you definitely want to fit into the beauty standard, and I feel like now, I just don’t care. I think also, being more open to being queer and, like, looking queer … not having hair is fine with me.

The largest influence for Tye has been an increase in their self-confidence. With this in mind, she wishes there was more bald representation, for herself and others.

One time, a few months ago, I was back home with my mom grocery shopping and some lady was like, ‘I love your hair.’

The stranger shared with Tye that she also struggles with hair loss, and was actually wearing a wig at the time of their interaction. Tye encouraged her to own it, “She felt the pressure of needing to wear a wig, and I feel like there’s always this pressure for black women to assimilate into this beauty standard.” Losing hair is natural, and there seems to be a push to do what you can to stop it. With a giggle, Tye concluded, “I just want everyone to know, it’s okay if, like, not everyone has hair!”

After this declaration, Tye showed me her wigs and hats. She began knitting and crocheting after losing her hair and continues today, not so much to cover her head anymore, but to keep herself warm. It’s also just a relaxing hobby–even though I can barely make it past a chain stitch. I’ll take Tye’s word for it.

 

One thing Tye struggled with in losing their hair is the lack of being able to experiment.

“It made me feel like I can’t, like, experiment with my hair, which is true,” she laughed, “but, I feel like, not true as a monolith that black women can’t experiment with their hair. I feel like I was really fighting against that ideology that’s put onto me.”

One struggle I had never considered is, a lot of wigs are straight hair, not textured, and textured ones are more expensive. Consequently, Tye has a harder time finding wigs to match her natural hair texture, “It’s definitely a little sad that I don’t get to have as much experience with my natural hair … I do miss that.” Even though she misses experimenting, she is appreciative to not be tied down to the pressures of beauty standards surrounding hair, especially for black women. She also noted the excitement of being free from a wash-day routine, “It’s no more for me. I’ve been freed from that!”

I so appreciate Tye’s interpretation of the themes of love, grief, loss, and growth. One thing I loved about this story is that it wasn’t necessarily an event, or an external influence. They have alopecia and face it every day–it is personal within their body–and they are choosing to embrace it.
Another thing I loved about Tye’s story is how, almost, nonchalantly she told it. Like it was no big deal, really. I’m sure that’s not always the case, but she giggled and smiled all throughout our conversation. This is something Tye’s story taught me about the processes of losing, grieving, and growing. Sometimes things happen to you that are out of your control, you can either unconvincingly deny it, or graciously embrace it, and yourself vicariously, with a dimply grin.