Aging Authentically: Why I Stopped Dyeing My Grey Hair

Embracing my new roots brought up some questions.

You might notice that this week, we’re going outside the realm of veganism. I did mention I’d shake up the content a bit - this is part of that shake-up. I’ve come to realise that I don’t really like the idea of a niche. I am a multi-faceted person, I care about many things, and I’ll write about many topics that touch me and make me think. Hope you enjoy.

A couple of years ago, I did a photoshoot with my husband for a brand I really love. I was going through the photos afterwards, loving most of them. I loved the bag we shot for the brand. I liked the light. I was happy with how the clothes looked.

But then something caught my eye.

My hair, apart from being its usual unruly, not-quite-straight-not-quite curly self, had something new to show me today: I had visible grey roots in every photo. Each and every one.

The offending photo. Although this is nothing compared to how my hair looks now. I can barely see a grey root here!

I knew that it was beyond time for my bi-monthly dye appointment, but I had not expected the silvery strands to make quite this much of an appearance in the photos. “It’s an easy Photoshop fix,” offered my husband. And I’d lie if I said that for a brief moment, I didn’t consider it. But then I realised that if I was to digitally alter my roots, there was really no reason why I shouldn’t also Photoshop my wrinkles - which were also on show in almost each of the shots. And that was simply not happening. Ever since getting them, I had made A Thing out of proudly accepting my wrinkles. I’ve never had Botox or any similar treatments and I don’t ever intend to (disclaimer: personal preference, everyone is free to do what they want, no judgement, yada yada), and I’ve never Photoshopped my face or even used a “smoothing” filter. So, I was wondering, why would I then do the same thing to my greys? After all, they were just another way my body was changing. So I nixed the Adobe assistance and published the photos in all their wrinkled, grey-speckled glory.

You guessed it: nothing happened. No one said anything, no outrage followed.

The difference, though, was that while I have never been in the same room as a Botox needle, for four years I’ve been diligently trotting off to the hairdresser every two months to hide the “damage” that time has been doing to my hair. Dyeing my roots had become part of my routine, like doing my nails or putting makeup on. But if I didn’t want to cover my greys in a photo, why would I want to keep concealing them in real life?

My 40th birthday last year. Visible roots here, and yet this is definitely one of my favourite photos of myself.

This is how the thought came creeping in: I could stop dyeing my roots.

I toyed with the idea of how it would feel to go about my life with my roots showing. Looking my age, which at that time was nearly 40 (today I am 41). Not worrying whether it was time for a dye. Not trying to flip my hair in a way that the greys were less visible or angling my head differently in photos. Just ageing naturally, without a care in the world. Like a...man.

“Either go all grey or no grey hair. Salt and pepper is for the table,” proclaimed Sophie Mas and Caroline de Maigret in my all-time favourite book on ageing, Older But Better...But Older. But this mindset, while masquerading as accepting, is still keeping us tethered to our hairdressers’ bottles: “all grey” is not the natural way that hair ages. Those who “embrace the grey” by showing up overnight looking like Sarah Harris (who is stunning and gives us all hair envy!) probably didn’t embrace anything except a very expensive dye appointment. Ageing hair left to its own devices is likely to go salt and pepper - not for everyone, but this is what’s happening to me now that I’m over a year into the journey. And I have to say, I don’t mind it in the slightest. If anything, it feels cool and defiant. Yes, I’m going salt and pepper. Just like men do. Any problems?

“It’s a great time for you to grow it out,” said my hairdresser enthusiastically. “You will only get more greys, so the quicker you do it, the better.” I saw her this month again, for a trim sans the root touchup (and a new fringe, inspired by Anne Hathaway in The Idea of You), and the only thing I miss about our longer appointments are the laughter-soaked chats while the root dye was doing its thing. As for the rest, no regrets.

This is two weeks ago and my hair looks very “half and half” as the dye is growing out. I LOVE IT. I really like this look!

Part of why going grey has been so effortless for me is the incredible Silver Sisters community on social media. From the Instagram hashtag with over 500k posts (favourite accounts include @silver_strands_of_mine, @jen.goes.grey and @my_silver_evolution) to the super-supportive Facebook group, there is no denying that women everywhere are growing tired of having to spend time, money and energy on something that we don’t really need to be doing. By seeing gorgeous women all over the globe embrace their natural looks, I felt empowered to do the same.

Today, I’m a bit over a year since my last dye. I can clearly see my greys in the mirror and in photos - but I’m at a point now where I don’t give them almost any thought. In fact, I’m pretty blown away by how little I care about my greys being on show. I’m aware people can see them as I walk down the street - and besides the revelation that people don’t actually care (shocking, right?), there’s the liberating realisation that even if they did, it wouldn’t bother me. I genuinely wouldn’t mind if someone thought I looked old. In fact, I don’t believe that “old” and “older” should have the negative connotations we give them. I have lived 41 full years on this Earth, years that have spanned the full range of emotions such as joy, sadness, fear, hope, euphoria, rage, despair, love and more. Years that have brought me a wealth of experience. And I don’t mind at all if this shows in my physical appearance.

My 41st birthday, new fringe and “silver highlights” clearly showing

“But where do you draw the line?” said my husband. “You wear makeup. You shave your legs. It’s the same, isn’t it?”

And he is right. I believe that many of us dye our hair, get Botox or shave our legs because it’s expected of us - even if many of us don’t actually care that much either way. It’s just so deeply ingrained in us that This Is What You Do that we don’t stop to consider whether we even want to do it. I didn’t examine my reasons for booking my first dye appointment. It was a matter of “okay, greys are showing, time to get it fixed!” Much like a stain on the kitchen floor. You just clean it up and go back to eating peanut butter by the spoonful, without much further thought.

What’s baffling though is that I pointed my finger at others who viewed Botox the same way. “Oops, there’s a wrinkle, oh well, I’ll get it sorted on the weekend.” To me those people were betraying the sisterhood by choosing to obey the patriarchy, and guilty of “making things harder for all of us”. Somehow I didn’t connect the dots that by dyeing my hair, I was doing the very same thing. I too was promoting a mindset that sees women chasing a more youthful-looking image, to their own detriment. A needle does not the difference make. The motivations (or, in my case, complete lack of analysis) were the same.

Today, I realise that going against the grain in every single aspect might not be for every person. While I do proudly show off my grey roots, I do indeed shave my legs. Nixing patriarchal standards in absolutely everything would be exhausting, and I understand that some people have no interest in fighting a battle every time they get ready in the morning. They just want to go about their day as comfortably as they can - and refusing to fit the mold can be pretty damn uncomfortable. So if dyeing their hair, shaving, or getting a tweakment makes people’s lives easier then who am I to judge? It’s not on single individuals to fix a broken and damaging system.

For me personally, the motivation behind choosing grey roots as my little act of defiance might lie in the fact that I really, really hate ageism. I’m just so fed up with the fetishisation of youth and the invisibility of older women that I’ll happily look old just to rebel. Which is, I guess, pretty youthful of me! And actually, I (whisper it) don’t mind the look of the roots. It feels like, after years of the same, something new is happening to my hair. So, for now, I will continue greying with joy. Who knows, things might change - a year from today you might get a newsletter from me with a photo of my new pink hair. Time will tell if my hairdresser will have to book those longer appointments again. But for today, grey is my happy colour.

First, third and last photo by David Camilli. Second photo by Angela Susini.