Brave the Shave – Not in my name

I caught MacMillan Cancer’s ‘Brave the shave’ advert on television this morning, which I previously posted about. How is this campaign still going and winning awards? Oh yes, it brings them in millions of £. I cannot believe they still do grasp how insensitive this is. Not only does it trivialise hair loss, which has been a source of many tears and self loathing for over twenty five years for me.

Loosing our hair is very different to shaving, unless you experience it for yourself, you cannot grasp the emotional and mental changes that go with hair loss. Would we ask people to paint bruises on their body to empathise with victims of domestic abuse, neglecting the emotional and mental abuse that can accompany it? It is distasteful.

The advert has people looking in mirrors desperate to see how they look now, with hair loss mirrors become something to hide from as scared of the image they now show. Shaving hair is not empathetic, I mean why would you choose to look this way? Hair loss isn’t all in one go either, it can be a slow process of waking up to hairs on the pillow, which are only matched by our tears, until it is gone. It is heartbreaking.

This plays up to the narcissistic, attention-grabbing, selfie generation that want to show they are doing good things for charity, but it is really all about them – lapping up all the whoops and grins from others. As they spend the follow period showing us how their hair is regrowing, never sparing a thought for us that it will never grow back, and forgetting the cause as they do too.

Go on bra walks, run marathons, or make cakes, but please think before you pick up that shaver in someone’s name.

© Fi S. J. Brown

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Alopecia and Me

There’s a balloon on my head or at least that’s what it looks like. How do I explain alopecia in terms that people may empathise with and dare I dream even understand? Our immune system is meant to fight infectious organisms and substances but mine decided over 25 years ago that this includes my hair. Yes, my own body’s defence mechanism went on a friendly fire offensive against my hair cells and killed them.

First it looked like hairs on the pillow and soon there were none left on my head. By none I mean none, at times of stress I have no hairs anywhere on my body that a woman would. However, I did notice little white hairs on my arms on Monday, which some may say but everybody does Fi – well my body hasn’t done so in over twenty years! My hair has grown back once and nearly back twice only to fall out again within a few months so now can hardly remember what it feels like to have any hair at all.

Being bald drained any outward self confidence, the bullying at school left their own scars to make for a vicious cocktail inside of me. Looking in a mirror became a phobia as I was scared to see the freak in my head in flesh and the ogre have physical form. I had zero therapy to understand it all and the doctors were as useful as chocolate teapots when I could see one but even then the control of my life was not in my hands. It is only now I have accepted fully that it is part of me, I will never be able to stop others reaction to it and do not care what they might say or do for there is no cure to reason to laugh at me. I am overdue buying a new wig, I feel like a change…one thing is for sure I’m not going blonde!

© Fi S. J. Brown