‘Do you want to see a horror movie?’ How I ditched wigs and embraced my bald head after unexplained hair loss at a young age

“When I started noticing hair loss after relocating to Germany in 2006, I did not give it much thought initially.

My hair increasingly became thinner but I simply attributed it to my coiffure routine which was an orchestra of braiding, weaving, and chemical treatment. Literary everything you could think of.

I have never had a lot of hair, I mean, not the kind that would do a hair shampoo advert. It was always enough for the purposes it was intended for.

This is why I did not consciously notice that it was getting worse nor even think it was a huge problem.

Even after I began getting patches without hair, one and a half years later, I dismissed it and ascribed it to water, food, the cold, lack of laughter with neighbours, or even homesickness.

Just something that was going to go away as soon as I earned a little more money…just kidding!

The first time I decided to shave it off was when my husband, who was my colleague in his father’s restaurant at the time, and I started dating.

I used to wear wigs and nobody noticed that it was not my real hair. Actually, Whites do not notice if you have put on a weave or a wig.

They used to be awestruck by how fast I could transform my hair in just a day.  I would have straight mid-length hair, the following week it would be long and curly, a month later, long wavy Beyonce style mane…I love long hair!

I did not offer any explanation to the questioning stares. I would rather have had them think of me as a magician or a witch than a hairless woman!

Looking at myself in the mirror became like watching a horror movie. I dreaded the sight of myself in the mirror.

I could not talk about it, not even with friends. I wanted the horrible nightmare to just vanish as silently as it had emerged.

I would put on my wig immediately when I woke up, and have it on till bedtime, of course except while in the shower. I wore my wig even in a swimming pool!

The first time my husband and I got intimate I was very uneasy. I tied my wig so tight, my head was throbbing.

I had even done some extra rubber bands just to make sure it stayed in place. There was no way that thing was going to fall off, not even with the wildest gymnastic stunts.

It was so unlike me being noticeably agitated. I am usually a very jolly person.

We had courted for some time so he kind of knew me…but not as hairless! I never let him caress my head.

After staying in denial for some time and noticing that I was not enjoying my life to the fullest, I mustered the courage to do the very thing that made even my knees weak.

I dreaded having my husband see me the way I saw myself in the mirror.  The “ugly woman.

I remember asking him, “Do you want to see my real hair?”

Actually, I should have asked, "Do you want to see my head?” Or better still, do you want to watch a horror movie?”

Like in a slow motion movie, I steadily pulled the thing off my head. I looked him directly in the eye, wanting to see his first reaction but at the same time wanting to run and never see him again.

I could not bear the thought of him telling me that this is not what he had bargained for. That he wanted a beautiful, black lady with long brown hair.

That he could not be with a woman who was so ugly and looked like a man. Even most German men have hair, he himself has a head full of beautiful dark long blond hair!

Living in a country where people have long hair, where every third advert on television shows a beautiful woman with long hair, I just could not be bald.

How would people view me looking like the slaves in the old American history books and movies?

What would they think of me, was it not enough to have this skin colour  that already made me an outsider? Must I now make it worse by being hairless?

In Kenya, though also not considered beautiful, we see hairless women often, or even school boys or men who shave their heads bald, my brother for instance. It is not an unusual sight. People will tell you, you look like a schoolboy.

In Germany, however, bald headed women are mostly those who have undergone chemotherapy and are battling with cancer.

People look at you or even avoid looking at you because they do not know what exactly to say to you.

Those who know you and somehow know that you do not have cancer, will ask funny questions and you can sense their awkwardness by the whole not having hair situation.

I once shaved my head before coming to Kenya for holidays and one of my employees remarked that he had read somewhere that we Africans must shave our heads before we visit our ancestral homes.

He asked if this was why I had shaved my head…. I wanted to tell him that we Africans actually have to pull off a tooth every time a relative dies and believe me, with the amount of ignorance and stupidity some people have, he would have believed me!

I was a wreck, for what felt like an eternity. My husband took my face in his hands, kissed me and told me that I was beautiful and that he was now free to caress my head!

He didn’t ask any questions, he didn’t seem shocked, he just continued loving me and looking at me adoringly the same way he had done from the very beginning. I thought he was strange, and I even wanted to run because I thought he was not normal!

But I stayed, and he has been supportive all these years. On short episodes when I have had hair and wanted to braid it, he helped me choose the best colour, the colour he thought complimented my skin.

He would help me unbraid them and if my hair fell off while doing it, he would help me shave it off again.

Although my husband always encouraged me to stay with my natural hair or even embrace my baldness, I was never comfortable. My self-esteem was extremely damaged.

The remarks from other people, even if they were not ill intentioned, made me really sad and I would feel like I was not enough without hair.

When someone looked at me, I thought it was because of my lack of hair. All the self-confidence I had before was utterly diminished.

If my husband turned and looked at a woman with long hair, it often broke my heart and I would elucidate it to mean that is what he longed for.

I even had phases of depression when my hair would show signs of growing, and I would raise my hopes that it was improving only for it to fall off after a few weeks later.

On many occasions, my husband would find me crying in the bathroom at 2 am at night having shaved off a part of my head with some textile scissors.

He would silently take his electric beard shaver and try to correct what clearly looked like a scene from a blockbuster horror movie.

Even on such extremely embarrassing moments, he would remind me just how beautiful I was, with or without hair.

I scouted for solutions everywhere and from everybody who provided an inkling of hope be it from professional medics or even outright amateurs.

I was desperate. I scoured the internet for all types of hair remedies. I sampled various tips from friends, prescription from doctors. I bought creme and oils and pomades and sprays, but nothing worked!

I went to clinical doctors, did blood tests and hormone tests but everything seemed to be ok.

At one time I had Iron deficiency and the doctor said it could be the cause so I took Iron supplements and ate lots of red meat.

Another doctor told me that it was a lack of vitamin D, so I took Vitamin D supplements and made sure I got as much sunlight as possible.

A different health expert concluded that it was stress and recommended exercise, so I started running not five, but 15 km and going to the gym every day.

Yet another medic was of the view that it was the quality of the water in Germany, and so I started using only distilled water to wash my hair.

As if that was not enough, I was told it must be the mercury in the shampoos and conditioners, so I bought only organic ones without mercury….

Not forgetting the well-intentioned advice from friends and family.

At some point I was even advised to collect bird shit and apply it on my head. I dare you all to try that, gather a handful of birds’ shit!

Around the time my daughter was turning six, I noticed her wanting to put on my wigs every time she was dressed nicely.

Each time she was playing as a beautiful woman, she had to have a wig on.

This was my kind of wake up call. I asked myself what beauty ideals I wanted to instill in my daughter.

Her being born and living in a country where she will always be seen as an immigrant because of her skin color, having to add insecurities about her hair was not something I wanted her to grow up with.

I knew that I could not tell my daughter that her hair was beautiful if she did not see me loving mine.

I could not tell her that her tangled, long wavy hair was beautiful if I was wearing a straight long wavy human hair wig.

I completely stopped wearing wigs and doing weaves, I only did braids because I thought that that looked African. Afterwards, I could not even do the braids anymore because I had some very big patches and my hair stopped growing altogether.

Please do not get me wrong. I do not intend to disparage women who choose to wear European wigs or weaves.  I respect that because I know that our journeys are different.

I know how it is to want to look and feel good, to want to belong, to have the one thing that people think define the beauty of a woman. Rock your wigs, do what makes you feel good and makes you retain your sanity.

Learn and grow at your own pace. Take the time you need before you can walk out bald, and if it does not come to that, that is also ok. Surround yourself with supportive people, talk about it.

Nowadays, it is so easy to find groups of people with these problems on social media. Do not post a photo of yourself on social media if you are not 100 percent comfortable with your situation.

There are mean people out there and if you are not centered, they will make your feelings scatter all over and leave you broken.

Personally, I finally feel like I have found the place within me that is compact and centered enough to rock a bald head.

The gazes and stares do not sadden me anymore. I turn and look at people directly in the eyes and with my smile. I assure them that I am ok and that they should be ok with me being the way I am. If they are not, my smile still does not fade, I smile anyway!

I rock my African headgears when I want to and not because I have to. Do I have moments when I miss having long hair, yes! Would I still try out the next wonder creme that promises hair growth, yes!

What I do not do anymore, is be in the bathroom at two am in the morning crying and shaving my hair with some textile scissors.

I bought myself a nice electric hair shaver and I now stand in front of a mirror once a week and shave my head while admiring my smooth beautiful face.

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