I Found Freedom in My Grey Hair

I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my teeth, when I saw it.

A glint of silver, right near my temple. Not shiny like a sequin — no, more like an intruder sneaking out from underneath years of my box dyed raven locks. My first reaction? Panic. I leaned in, squinting, like maybe I’d imagined it. Well shit. Then came the denial: That’s just the light. The overhead’s weird today.

But it wasn’t the light.

It was just the first of many.

For years, I colored it. Not because I loved doing it — but because I didn’t know I had another choice. Covering my roots became a routine, like folding laundry or setting the alarm at night. It was something I did because...well, society doesn’t look upon aging women very kindly.

But each time I stood in that mirror with gloves on and dye dripping down my forehead, something in me felt a little more distant. It was as if I was slowly coloring myself out of my own life.

Then came the day I couldn’t do it anymore.

It wasn’t some big declaration. It was just exhaustion. I remember holding the dye box in one hand and thinking, fuck this shit. I threw it down and walked away — not knowing that moment would change so much more than just my hair color.

Letting the grey come through wasn’t magical. It was awkward. Letting the grey grow out was uncomfortable. The in-between stage? Brutal. I mean for a while I looked like a skunk. But somewhere in the mess, I started seeing myself again. Not the version I was trying to keep frozen in time, but the woman I was becoming.

There’s power in that.

Power in realizing that every silver strand held a story — of babies rocked to sleep, losses mourned, belly laughs, hard-won wisdom, and quiet resilience. My grey hair wasn’t aging me; it was honoring me.

People started noticing. Some said, “You’re so brave.” Others whispered, “I could never.” And while I smiled, the truth was — I hadn’t been brave. I’d just finally chosen me.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was showing up fully — no filters, no pretenses, just raw, real womanhood. For the first time in my life, I was loving the authentic version of me, not some inflated societal view. Putting down the box that day was about loving myself, but also about something more important…. FREEDOM!

If You’re Wondering If It’s Time…

It is.
Not just to grow out your hair.
But to grow into yourself.

You’ve earned every silver thread, every soft line. You are not “letting yourself go.” You are letting yourself be.

So, how about you? Have you found yourself in your grey hair era too? Or are you still holding that dye box and wondering? If you want to talk about it — I’m here, I would love to hear your story!

Let’s stop hiding. Let’s start owning every inch of our gorgeous midlife selves.

With love from Mabank,

Brandy