Daily Dose in the Pod: My Hair is Falling Out. Yep.

I first noticed it early last Fall. An apparent hole, the size of a quarter, above my left ear, where you’d expect to find not a blank space but hair.

I gasped.

I’ve always had a ton of hair. Unwieldy hair, in fact. Particularly in days of yore when there were no products available in stores for hair like mine, at least in the communities in which I lived. But by my thirties, with creams and newfound curiosity and confidence about my Black hair, I finally figured out how to nurture my coils. And then for a few decades, I had “good hair.” Hair I finally loved.

Now this?

Dan will take himself off to the doctor whenever anything is amiss, but I tend to sit quietly with it for a long while. Afraid, perhaps, of a diagnosis or worse, a critique.

Besides, I knew what it was. It was A-L-O-P-E-C-I-A. Which sounds to me simultaneously: Zoological, a species like Allosaurus and Alpaca; Geographical, like Argentina, Armenia, Australia, and Austria; Culinary, like an exotic Italian noodle; and Transgressive of Societal Rules, like the word “elope.”

“Elope” seemed the most fitting, actually. Like, my missing quarter-sized volume of hair had said, “Fuck It,” in the middle of the night, and ran off to God knows where.

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It’s not that I just sat there and played with words and did nothing. I called up the only relative I know who’s had Alopecia, and we talked about what she did in response. She’d been young, in her twenties, when it happened to her. And somehow, over time, her hair grew back. So that gave me hope. I also reached out to a woman I know online, and she sent me pictures of her arduous before-and-after journey which took time. And I thought back on a woman who’d sat on a board with me, and wore a turban wrap all the time, which I’d originally thought was religion or style but came to learn was to hide her Alopecia.

So I sat with mine and just kept my eye on it, willing my body to undo whatever it was doing, and pondering the cause. Was it menopause? The weight loss drugs I was on for a few weeks before my insurance changed and wouldn’t cover it anymore? That’s all I could point to for “Why.” Other than, you know, LIFE.

And then to my delight, something started working. When I went in for a cut in December (when I’d decided to run for Congress), and I pointed out my spot to my stylist, Kia, she said, “Actually, look, its growing back and yet….” Together we peered closely at it, this strange little spout of hair pouring out of my scalp, scull, and brain, the evidence that I had aged, or at least changed.

Because you see the new hair was straight and white. Which I am not. And neither has been my hair.

I prayed in the way I do which is like verbal hope and gratitude, and welcomed these strange white hairs which are not only the wrong color but also are not curly, and thought maybe I’d finally start dyeing my hair to keep it all in line. And I was sure it would all in time be fine.

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Months later, I was doing my hair and I gasped again. Seemingly overnight, the quarter-sized hole and grown to the size of a half-dollar. Then seemingly overnight again the half dollar was like the circumference of a can of soda. I became enamored of the comb over, which for my hair type is more of a twirl the curl this way and that, and when it’s dry splay it out, so it can hang like a patio umbrella over the patch of sandy beach that is the hole in my hair.

What to do what to do what to do what to do what to do??

I thought about shaving the other side to match. Thought about a tattoo in dark brown squiggly lines, a pattern that would be an homage to my people or this Earth going back in time. Even a hidden riddle that would show passers-by Yes I know I have no hair but look what I’ve put there!

Clearly, “What would people think” is a driver. Should it be?

Kia told me about a tattoo artist. And about a Black female dermatologist more than an hour away. I chose the latter. She officially diagnosed me: The autoimmune disease Alopecia areata. She found four more spots I can’t even see. And began injecting steroids directly into my head which we’re to do monthly.

We shall see.

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Can you relate? Either to this or some other autoimmune disease?

xo

🤗 Here’s a hug for anyone who is dealing with hair falling out for whatever reason, or with an autoimmune disease.

🗞️ The Daily Dose is a new facet of the Pod where I’m devoted to a new discipline of writing daily on whatever subject seems relevant that day. Prior topics are my thoughts on why I’m so competitive (here), the Biden v. Trump debate (here), letting the elderly be who they are (here), my difficult encounter with the pro-Israel lobby AIPAC when I was a congressional candidate (here), and the progress of the 20th Century being thrown into the dumpster by conservatives (here).

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