I run a gray hair company. I still have grays, and a complicated, unfinished set of reasons for leaving them there.
For someone who spends as much time thinking about gray hair as I do, I am surprisingly inconsistent about covering my own.
I lead KIWABI globally, and gray hair and scalp health are what I dedicate myself to for hours every day.
Yet if you met me in person, there is a very good chance you would see my grays. So far, they have mostly sprung up above my forehead on the right side, with other silver strands making their way through the rest of my hair. There are way more than I can count, but from a few feet away, my hair still comes across as black.
They Feel Earned
There is a part of me that really appreciates them. Which is not to say that I love the way they look. After all, I think I look more polished when my hair color is consistent — one shade, or beautifully colored. But emotionally, I kind of like having them there. They feel… earned.
I have two children: a beautiful daughter who is 16, and a loving boy who is 5 whom I breastfed for way too long when it comes to draining my youthful essence away (I say this half-jokingly). I've also built my own business and helped build others. I've been through a divorce and another separation, with the father of my son. I've had to learn how to support myself and my kids, recover from things I didn't anticipate, become stronger without getting any b*tchier... all while, for the most part, remaining the bubbly, optimistic person I've always believed (wanted?) myself to be.
I am certainly not suggesting that gray hair is some prize awarded for being a mother, or for surviving a life filled with major ups, downs, and losses. But when I catch sight of those silver strands, I don't think, Oh no, I'm getting old. I think instead that they are physical evidence that I am no longer the person I was at 25 or 30, which I consider a very good thing.
They are physical evidence that I am no longer the person I was at 25 or 30.
The Less Philosophical Reason
Of course, there is a much less philosophical reason I haven't colored them: I have been saving them for work.
For months, I have been telling myself that I should use my own hair to document a proper KIWABI before-and-after. I want to take the initial photograph, use the products consistently for several weeks, and photograph the progression, so that we have a very real demonstration of how they work. This requires me to preserve the evidence. So I keep thinking, Don't cover the grays yet; you need the before and the transition pictures. The problem is that I am terrible at getting around to taking photos of myself. There are thirty things that feel more urgent in those moments, and the before shot perpetually stays number thirty-one.
Looking Younger, Later
My feelings about aging are similarly uncomplicated, and similarly contradictory. This may sound like an oxymoron, but I secretly delight in "looking young for my age" the more my numerical age goes up. When I was young and looked approximately my age, I didn't think there was anything particularly remarkable about it. If anything, I was more inclined to look in the mirror and focus on whatever I thought could be better. Now that my numerical age is steadily crawling upward, I find myself noticing the youthful things that remain, and being grateful for them.
I secretly delight in "looking young for my age" the more my numerical age goes up.
I have never had Botox or done anything specifically intended to make myself look younger, aside from makeup, which I've worn since I was a teenager (there is a reason I work in beauty — I love beauty products). But that isn't because I have taken some principled stand against Botox. It simply hasn't been something I've been motivated enough to get around to so far. And if and when I do, I know it isn't going to turn into an existential crisis about whether I have properly accepted aging.
Whatever beauty protocols I take part in, my goal is not necessarily to look like I'm 25, but to support my confidence as necessary, so that I can exude the radiance and energy of a woman who is full of life and love.
One Set of Rules for Another
This is probably why I appreciate seeing women looking confident and stylish with their beautiful gray hair. Whether it is a few streaks, salt-and-pepper, or an entire head of silver, it can look incredibly elegant and sophisticated when the person is glowing. At the same time, I equally appreciate a woman who meticulously takes care of every aspect of her look, who is pulled together and has presence. That level of dedication I truly respect, and wish I had.
I sometimes wonder whether, in trying to free women from one set of beauty rules, we've inadvertently started creating another. For a long time, visible gray was treated as something women were expected to conceal. Now there can be an implication — sometimes subtle, sometimes not — that leaving your hair gray is the more evolved, authentic, or confident choice. I don't particularly like either proposition. A woman coloring her hair does not tell me that she is terrified of aging, any more than leaving it silver tells me she has reached some superior state of self-acceptance. Sometimes a beauty decision really is just a beauty decision.
Sometimes a beauty decision really is just a beauty decision.
That extends well beyond hair for me. I think women should do whatever they want with their hair, their skin, and their bodies, if the choice genuinely makes them feel happier. To me, embracing every line and getting Botox every time a new one appears, letting your hair become completely silver and keeping it covered, are all just choices each of us has the right to make without being judged.
The most important thing to me is that these decisions are made confidently, and that the woman feels radiant — not whether it satisfies someone else's definition of what "aging gracefully" is supposed to look like.
What Changed, and What Didn't
Working with KIWABI hasn't fundamentally changed my thinking about any of this, and I consider that a very good sign. I didn't have to adopt a philosophy about beauty in order to represent the brand; the philosophy already made sense to me. We can make exceptional products for covering or reversing gray hair without believing gray hair inherently needs to be covered. Those ideas aren't incompatible. What we can do is give people better choices: gentler ways to color when they want color, ways to support pigment when they want to preserve it, and ways to care for the scalp and hair underneath, regardless of what they decide.
What has changed since working with KIWABI is how much more attention I pay to the health beneath the appearance. I notice changes in shedding now. I notice pigmentation differently. I think about what I'm eating, and whether I'm getting the nutrients my hair needs. I pay far more attention to my scalp than I ever did before, and I have become much more conscientious about the small things I do consistently, rather than waiting until something visibly goes wrong. Perhaps that has been the bigger evolution in my own approach to beauty: less fixation on correcting what I see, and more interest in taking care of what produces it.
Less fixation on correcting what I see. More interest in taking care of what produces it.
Ten or Twenty Years From Now
I don't know what I will do with my gray hair ten or twenty years from now. Maybe I will eventually have a beautiful head of all silver and decide I love it. Maybe I will take one look at myself at 60 and immediately reach for the Black. Both possibilities seem entirely plausible to me, and I will happily choose the one that makes me feel happier. No judgment.
I believe the things that make someone genuinely beautiful, in a way that resonates with everyone, have little to do with whether her hair is gray or how young she looks. They are the things other people actually experience when they are around her: joy, warmth, humor, confidence, curiosity, generosity, laughter. Whatever we choose to do on the outside should, ideally, help us feel enough like ourselves that more of those things can come through.
So for now, my gray hairs are staying where they are, until I get around to those before-and-after shots, and I know I have the option of covering them at any time, easily, at home, if I ever want a change.
Emi leads KIWABI globally. The before-and-after photographs remain, at the time of publication, unscheduled.
