Every Color I’ve Ever Been

My hair has always entered the room before I did. Curls, copper, pink, caramel— it changes every time I do. I used to call it experimenting, but now I know it was just prophecy. Every shade was a frequency check, a quiet test asking me: Can I be this woman yet? Can I carry this color without shrinking?

When it was black, I was hiding in definition.

When it was blonde, I was reaching for light.

And when it turned red— babyyyy, I was remembering my own heat.

You see, color has always been my way of announcing the shift even before I had words for it. And my hair was a love letter to the woman I was becoming, even when I didn’t like her yet.

Every time the color changed, it wasn’t vanity. It was a pulse. A signal that something in me was ready to be seen again.

These days though, I don’t change my hair to escape. Now, I do it to stay in tune— because my hair speaks the truth before my mouth does. It’s the whisper that says: The glow is not new. You just stopped apologizing for it.

And that— THAT is what unbound looks like.

🌙 What the body knows

You don’t change your hair to become someone new. You change it to remember who you already are.