I love my grey hair
Written by Caryn Franklin, who has never been afraid to age gracefully.
I was in my 30s when I started to go grey. A white streak appeared at the front of my head like an amazing satin ribbon. I loved it. It was alluring, mystical and bold. Not everyone felt the same way.
I was presenting the BBC Clothes Show at the time and was rung up by a colleague to say I'd been discussed in a meeting: my grey streak wasn't liked. It made me look ''too old'' and needed to be covered up with dye.
That was my first experience of ageism. I'd been gearing myself up for it because women are taught from a young age that youth and beauty is highly prized. I'd just never thought it would happen that early.
At first I worried. I'd been told I would be "wound down," which means made to disappear. I've always been very outspoken. I said: "I'm not going to dye my hair. I know I have value beyond what I look like."
From that point, I resolved to ensure my grey hair looked amazing. I worked with my hairdresser, Charles Worthington, to make my white streak look as deliberate and decisive as I felt by dying my brunette hair darker and glossier, so it would stand out.
When I was 50, I decided to grow out the streak and have a full head of grey hair. Friends and I agreed that it would affect perceptions of me and it could affect offers of work. It was the desire to be authentic as well as embracing a feminist stance that appealed. Women have always been evaluated and oppressed on the basis of their appearance.
I'm now 57 and a proud grey-haired woman. Just like Helen Mirren, Judi Dench and Mary Beard - who, in a Radio 4 documentary next week called Glad to be Grey, will speak about her refusal to pretend she's younger than she is - I'm not covering up.
Yet our position is pretty rare. More than 70 per cent of grey-haired women in Britain colour their hair, while in the US it's thought to be nearer 90 per cent. I understand why, and support any woman's right to do so. There is a double standard and women are judged on their looks much more harshly than men - especially in the workplace. For a woman to succeed there, especially if she's head of the household, she must use every tool, including fashion and beauty. So it's no wonder that women spend around ??140,000 in their lifetime on their hair. Young women buy into expensive skincare regimes, and girls as young as seven are overly preoccupied with their appearance.
If women felt safe to age naturally and didn't feel it would impinge on their ability to earn or project an attractive image, I'm sure many more would choose their natural colour. But that's not the society we live in now, and nor was it one that existed when I chose grey in the Nineties.
We didn't have Twitter or social media, but I wish we had, because I could have found a community of supporters. It was lonely doing it on my own. Even though there were a number of grey-haired men on TV, I couldn't see a single female presenter who had un-dyed grey hair. Now there is a fantastic online community celebrating grey.
But going grey is a personal decision. For my part, I looked in the mirror and wanted to connect with what I felt inside. I let go of a learnt preoccupation with youth. I started engaging with something so much more exciting - the adventure of self-knowledge, confidence, authenticity and wisdom that all come with age.
I gained time, too, because I stopped inspecting myself for signs of ageing and began changing my life. I stepped away from the stage work and began doing more consulting, campaigning and writing, and even entered academia as a lecturer and an MSc student of psychology.
When I say I'm happy being old, people rush to assure me: "But you're still young."
I say sod it. I don't want to look young. I'm enjoying who I am - from my imperfections to my strengths - and I'm learning more about my own power. I'm a tribal elder and I love it.
Written by Caryn Franklin. First appeared on Stuff.co.nz
Related links:
5 reasons to embrace going grey
7 celebrities prove you just get better with age
15 women who have aged elegantly