Purple Cow
Why? Why Not?
“You will die.” Will I?
Well, yeah, that sounds a lot like the conversation between Eve and the serpent. I grew up in a rather conservative setting, and honestly, even some of the things which should be considered regular feel like a sin against ‘God’? ‘Society’? I don’t know…
Yes. I dyed my hair as a personal and social experiment.
I’d been nursing the idea for about five, six months. I finally decided I was going to do it, and I would not let my hyper-conservative ‘conscience’ talk me out of it this time.
I dressed up, headed to the salon and had it done — all the while ignoring whatever audio was playing in my mind.
I got home at night, so I couldn’t take clear photos. I made a couple of snaps and I uploaded them online though. Many thought they were edited photos — because I pulled that prank sometime ago.
Then I uploaded Sunday pictures and videos. Only then did it hit people online that I really did it.
The Self
To be honest, it kind of irked me every time I looked in the mirror and saw blonde!
I don’t think I got used to it at any point, although I loved how it looked in pictures and all. Sometimes I’d forget, and then shock myself when I pass in front of a mirror or any reflective surface.
To be honest, it was quite the eye opener for me. I defied my fears. I did it — I made a decision I knew some people would fight. It was a sort of reassuring process that I was an adult who could make decisions. As a child, there would be immediate drastic consequences for such action — so I guess I had to do this to be sure.
It might seem like an immature way to go about the realisation phase, considering the fact that I’m 23, but hey, it was an easy option.
The Father
I live in a different city from my parents.
Two days or so into my experiment, I received a call from my dad. Apparently, he found out from my mom that I had dyed my hair. He seemed disappointed or something close. But as the saying goes:
“Na wetin go make them say ‘I am disappointed in you’ I wan dey do now”
He said to cut it or ‘do something’ about it. I gave non-definitive answers like ‘okay’, ‘yes sir’. I even threw in a silly excuse like ‘I just made it and the chemical is still fresh so I can’t do anything for now’.
All my theatrics were a sneaky way of saying, ‘Nah fam, I’m not going to do anything about it’, without being direct — because what’s the point of inciting direct violence over hair colour? Let’s leave such for deeper topics.
We haven’t talked about it since then.
The Office — The Boss, Really
At the time, I was an intern at a data analytics firm.
The first day at the office with my new look was okay, with a sprinkle of subtle ‘WTF bro?’ from guys in the office in surprise.
Also, my boss tried — he really did — but he couldn’t hide the low-key dislike for my new hair colour.
For the few days he was around before he travelled, he threw in the occasional subtle life advice here and there — you know, just in case I had actually lost focus or something.
The Society
In summary, people stare a lot; and some will murder you with their eyes — or fail to resist the urge to express how nice you look.
It started with church on Sunday. As I approached the entrance, the media guys gestured to me to strike a pose — what do you know? Mini celebrity? I like to see it. At the end of service, I got a good number of “I love [or like] your hair!” comments.
I proceeded to get snapped some fire photos. Social media liked it.
I do cabs a lot, so during the week, a good number of people in cabs would throw in the “I love your hair” line — I think I started feeling special, l-o-l.
Also, there’s this canteen I always go to during lunch time at work. There’s this waiter there, he’s probably 19 or 20 and always looks at me with the “I want to be like you bro” vibes. When he saw my new hair, it was all over him as he said “Wow! Awesome hair!” with excitement — it felt nice.
Not many people know this — or might agree with it — but I’ve always struggled with walking in public places even on regular days. I’d often get hyper self-conscious and all. It’s probably one of the reasons I always walked fast during my university days — too many people!
That said, it’s hard to not get noticed when your hair is glowing blonde in a sea of dark heads. I had to constantly avoid eye contact from people who couldn’t help but stare. More often than not, whenever they were close enough, I’d greet or gesture at them — I see you bro [or sis], your stare is obvious.
Also, I found it particularly hard to make the journey into or out of the gate of the apartment complex I stay. The security guys always gave me ‘the look’. I made it a point of duty to greet and walk past them like I didn’t know what was up. But damn, I’m too much of an agreeable person to ignore such judgemental stares!
The End
At some point, I just felt like, you know, enough of the discomfort and all. I switched back to dark hair.
Like magic, as I walked back home, I had suddenly become invisible once again. No more stares, I could now walk with my head up, without depleting my willpower reserves.
As I passed by the gate after returning to dark hair, the particular security guy with the worst of the judgemental looks went “You don change am back?” with a smile and a demeanour which screamed ‘the lost soul has returned’, l-o-l.
My mom saw a picture of me with dark hair, and called to be sure it was really happening. Only God knows the thoughts those old folks have been harbouring about me all week. Prodigal son? L-O-L.
Moral Lesson
The two things to take away from the week-long experiment:
The first is that it takes a lot of courage and will-power to be unmistakeably different and go on being about your life. Probably a glimpse into how physically disabled or disfigured people feel all the time — kudos to people who have to go through such, and without an exit option.
Two, it’s not really hard to be popular — just do crazy shit often. And it explains why celebrities do the things they do, amongst other things.
As a bonus, yeah, it was a practical lesson as to the fact that, yes, as an adult, you can do whatever you like. But, you must also sustain the ‘adultness’ to deal with whatever comes with the decisions you make.
I always thought I didn’t care much about opinions. Maybe I don’t care what you think about my WhatsApp status or Instagram post, but I kind of, sort of, care about physical confrontation — direct or subtle.
Let’s see how this plays out into future decisions and what not.
My account from living with dyed hair for a week in Nigeria.
