The Gray Hair Social Experiment

The gray hair social experiment

I have two gray hairs.

Actually, I have more than two. I often find them while sorting through the depths of my hair, in an attempt to please society (i.e. straightening my hair (aka torturing the shit out of it)). But these two in particular are on the top of my head, right where my bangs switch to normal hair. This means that I have two gray hairs that stick up right in the line of sight for most grown human beings.

I do not find this upsetting or concerning, I haven’t run screaming to a salon, I haven’t purchased anti-aging cream and I have not burst into tears (at least not about this…..). It’s really not surprising considering I found my first gray hair in the eighth grade.

Actually, I didn’t find it. My mom took my sister and me to what I recall as our first salon experience (meaning not Great Clips or something of the sort). She picked this lady out for us specially because she had curly hair and “specialized” in curly hair (goodness knows Lauren and I needed all the curly hair advice we could get). The hair lady was treating me to my first aforementioned torture session when she exclaimed,

“You have a gray hair!” and plucked it out.

This was by no means the first time I was disgusted with society, but it was the first time I was introduced with the expectations society holds for adults. Which leads me to my current experiment-

Like I mentioned, my two gray hairs are extremely obvious. This means that people notice them. So people decide to comment, some people stare and others are unobservant (blind and/or self-absorbed I’m assuming, because yes, the world does revolve around my gray hairs). Monitoring people’s reactions to my gray hairs has become a sort of social experiment for me that I’ve found fascinating. Everyone reacts in their own special way, but usually fairly similarly at the same time.

When some dear family member pointed them out in front of the rest of my family, I got treated to the fact that both my dad and his sister had two rogue hairs as young adults as well. I found this comforting. I constantly insist to people that I’m not the only 22 year old with gray hairs, and I think the fact that I’m not a genetic mutation that belongs with Professor X and the rest of the gang is another step to prove this.

The most common reaction I receive is:
Oh my god! Brigitte! Did you know you have gray hairs??

My nonchalant reply:

Yeah. They’ve been there for a while.

Them shocked, abashed and taken back (Option #1):
Well do you want me to get rid of them for you?

Them shocked, abashed and taken back (Option #2):

Don’t pluck it!! If you pluck it, 3 will grow back in its place!!!

This has led me to the following conclusion: I really don’t care. I have very dark brown hair (no, it’s not black…) that will make even blonde hairs look gray. I can’t really hide the fact that gray is lighter than dark brown, like some lighter haired folk have the grace to do. Just like everything in my life right now, gray hairs are another part of growing up. Getting older is something that happens to everyone. What’s the point in fighting something that is clearly genetic and represents nothing about me personally? I refuse to get rid of something that society tells me I should fear. I refuse to give into these pointless norms and expectations.

Plus they make me look distinguished.

And wise.

And they may have names…..