Loving My Hair Helps Me Love Other People

Dove Hair research found that 8 in 10 women feel pressure to wear their hair a certain way. To address this, Dove is working to break down the beauty standards that convince women their hair isn’t beautiful. Grace Coddington has defied conventional notions of hair beauty for more than 50 years. First, as a model and later as one of the most influential (and recognizable) fashion editors in the world. To help inspire all women to love their hair, Dove and Grace Coddington present three women who are redefining what beautiful hair means today, one of whom is Lauren Isabeau.

Growing up in St. John, in the U.S. Virgin Islands, I had the enlightening experience of spending my formative years as a minority. I remember the first time it even occurred to me that there might be some differences between myself and the West Indian children, with whom I played and went to school. Rather than the color of our skin, it was my hair’s different texture, compared to a boy in my class, which caught my attention.

I have no doubt that this environment was conducive to my decision to treasure the ways in which I am a rarity. I have truly loved my red hair for as long as I’ve had any concept of it. There are other idiosyncrasies about my physical makeup that I find intriguing—the shape of my eyes, the ever-so-slight “upturn” of my nose (both serve as reminders to me of my Scandinavian heritage)—but my hair is what the world seems to notice first. So it’s only natural that my hair has impacted my life more directly than those other features, even though I always hope for my subtleties to be noticed, and try to notice the subtleties first in others.

My hair could absolutely be described as the embodiment of who I am: honest and unadulterated. Its color evolves with the seasons: In the summer, it takes on flaxen tones from the sun while, in the winter, it darkens in the sun’s absence. I’ve never dyed it, and I’ve cut it only once.

I was 6 years old, and I had been given a knight-and-castle set for Christmas. I was so enamored with the castle’s moving drawbridge that I found my mother’s scissors and cut out a shape in my bangs that I hoped mirrored it. The end result, unfortunately, looked more like a broken window in the middle of my forehead. The trauma of that event, combined with the length of time I was required to wear a headband until it was long enough to tuck behind my ears, only deepened my resolve to let my hair be.

Typically when people see my hair they say, “Don’t you dare touch it.” And though I never respond to pressures outside of myself—if I sincerely wanted to cut it, I absolutely would—it just so happens that I seem to feel similarly to everyone around me about my hair.

I realize that effortless self-acceptance is no easy feat for most people. But, at the heart of it, the endeavor is really about getting to know yourself. You will always have external and internal pressures trying to influence you in a certain direction. And for that same reason, I understand when someone wants to dye her hair, or cut it. It isn’t for me personally; I connect to myself through my naturalness. But I recognize that others might find that same clarity in a different decision.

As for advice about how to love yourself, all I have to offer is my own experience and how it shaped me. I find it inspiring myself when someone wholly embraces herself, and believe others do too. It’s up to each woman to tap into that strength, be bold about it, and convey the feeling that You’re not going to tell me what to wear or how to look; that is for me to decide. Media and brands can only do so much (though they should). At the end of it all, it is an unavoidable life decision: Do you want to get to know yourself?

In deciding to know who I am—and examine what makes me unique—I’ve allowed myself to be an old soul. Accepting myself lets me cut to the chase, get to the meat of what is important in my life: my poetry, the study of the people I love, and letting them study me. There’s an openness and immediate transparency, which facilitates wisdom.

I’ve come across a few studies that speculate redheads gray prematurely. I haven’t followed up on them enough to gauge their truth, but I like to fantasize that they are true. The loss of pigmentation in hair gives it a beautiful, unrefined texture; it conveys a tangible gravitas. As I age, and I approach 60, 70—80, God willing—I would love to explore the depths of self that only a beautiful silver in my hair might bring.

Read more real women’s hair stories on Allure and Glamour. And join Dove Hair in their mission to broaden the definition of beautiful hair.

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