Black or Grey? The DMV Made Me Pick a Side
If you want to know how to really test your sense of self, skip the therapy session and head to the DMV.
I was there for the usual: renewing my driver’s license. You know the drill a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, stand on the little footprints for the photo, and answer all the standard questions:
Eye exam? Check.
Address confirmed? Check.
Organ donor? Check.
And then, without warning, she dropped it:
“Ok, so do you want black or grey for your hair color? You can’t have both."
Excuse me?
I froze. My application said “black” because my hair has always been black. Sometimes by nature, sometimes with a little help from a box at the drugstore. But over the last few years, I made the choice to let my natural grey grow out. A decision I’m proud of… most of the time.
But now? Now I was standing there, in a harshly lit government office, being told I had to pick a team.
Black or grey. No hyphens, no in-betweens.
The truth is, my hair is both. The top layers are a soft silver that shimmer in the sun, and underneath, there’s still streaks of deep black. It’s a timeline on my head, the story of every year, every choice, every change. But apparently, the state of Texas doesn’t have a checkbox for “aging gracefully but still a little rock and roll.”
I could feel the people behind me shifting in line. The DMV lady looked at me like she didn’t have all day — which, to be fair, she probably didn’t.
So I took a breath, smiled, and said, “Grey.”
It felt weirdly final. Like I’d just declared to the universe that I’m done with black hair forever.
But here’s the thing: it also felt right.
Grey isn’t just a color, it’s the proof that I’ve lived. It’s the late nights, the early mornings, the big loves, the hard lessons. It’s every laugh line and tear I’ve earned.
And honestly? If the DMV wants to put that on my license, I’m fine with it.
Though I have to admit… next time, I might just show up with purple. Let’s see how they handle that.
With Love from Mabank,
Brandy
