THE BIG DYE LIE

     Generally, people of color are not reminded of their passing years by the loss of hair pigmentation.  As soon as the shafts of our Caucasian scalps become streaked with gray, we might wish for some gene splicing method to conceal the tattletales.
     My Grandmother Polly detested her gray hair.  Actually, it was snow white by the time she quit trying to change it.  Once she had it colored by a neighborhood beautician and it came out blue.  All the family was now fully aware of grandma's hair, but none dared risk mentioning it.  Any comment about her natural hue had been taboo, since she was so positive it was unflattering.  The new shade forced an opinion which also couldn't be openly expressed.
     The perception of old age being associated with becoming gray is very pronounced in our society.  This stereotypical attitude is programmed early and remains throughout our lives.  Gray is old.  Old is gray.  How can one forget the first time they heard the lyrics, "The old gray mare she ain't what she used to be."   Children begin to pair "old" and "gray-haired." early on, and it continues into adulthood.
     When faced with the sight of our graying locks, it is nearly impossible to shake the over-the-hill attitude which creeps into our psyche as we become victims of such a collective opinion.  When the hair begins to change to shades of gray, each of us must face the menace in our own particular way. 
     We couldn't care less when the color fades on somebody else's head.  We feel free to offer comments or quote jokes about all the different things which cause it. We tell them not to pull those first few because two will grow back for each one removed.  Or we insist how good it looks on the other person, even as we picture them as beginning the descent from the prime of life.
     When the "salt" assaults the "pepper,"  the realization is devastating.  We need to hide the evidence of our downhill slide.  We are sure we do not feel as old as others will think we are after they see our gray.  We may decide to dye.
     This disguise gives rise to all the dye-lie words.  We call it a rinse, a tint, a lightener, a darkener, an enhancer or a conditioner.  More body?  You bet, a coating of color adds lots of body.  Plus, it covers the gray, that fast-spreading affliction we wish to hide from ourselves and others. 
     Although others are rarely as close to us as our reflections in a mirror, this is where we look for the signs we assume are obvious.  We see that old gray and are anxious to conceal it before others notice. To dye or not to dye is not an unanswered question for millions of us. 
     There are volumes of money being spent by men and women who use home and professional applications to cover gray, even though gray hair is most resistant to dyes. The ploy is to convince consumers to use one of the vast range of colors from blond to black which best matches their "natural" shade.  Regular use will insure that gray hair is covered, even as it is turning.  In time, we can't be positive what our real color is.   We only know the gray is gone.
     Hair grows from the roots at a rate of about one-sixteenth inch per day.  Within two weeks time, re-application must be considered.  It may be delayed by altering our hairstyle or hiding it under a hat or scarf.  After a month's time, new growth must be dyed. 
     Wearing dyed hair allows us to be more aware of other heads of hair.  We notice the way color treatments reflect light differently.   All color seems unnatural, especially on anyone who is our age or older.  We wonder about the veracity of those who suggest they do nothing to maintain the same hair shade as when they were in high school.
     The battle against gray hair is unending.  The fight may be directed to a silver sliver or a growing splotch.  Offenders sprout from ears, eyebrows and noses.  It is disgusting to have to clip, pluck or Q-tip dab all the bright beacons which can interfere with our attempt to appear free of gray.  Every day reveals another reminder.
     Nothing can haunt us as much as the truth that under that color is lifeless, pallid hair.  My daughter infuriated me once, when she innocently revealed my secret to her classmate who had remarked how young I looked.   Years later, I was aghast when a housemate informed his cousin, after she expressed an interest in me, that I dyed my hair.  It is best not to tell anyone or admit it if asked.
     It is obvious that hair dyes are caustic chemicals which probably cause some degree of reaction in all users.  Further, there is no way to guarantee continued use of such ingredients in such close proximity to the brain, will not be cumulatively harmful.
     But gray is the same as old to all and to the old in particular.  If The Big Dye Lie serves to limit the amount of condescension or spurious respect for age, it may be better than honesty.