It’s 8:20pm on Wednesday night. Leah’s hair started to fall out this morning. Our friend Rachel is on her way over to shave Leah’s hair into a mohawk, a last hurrah.
Amelia: What do you feel like your hair says about you?
Leah: I like my hair. I liked both my breasts, too. I don’t consider myself that vain, but what little vanity I have left is going to fall off of my head.
Amelia: What do you feel like you are losing?
Leah: My identity. I’m becoming amorphous. I’m a blob. That is what it feels like. I’m half of a person without my boob, without my hair. You’d think it would be freeing to shave your head, right? But it’s not a choice. Some chemical is forming me into something I don’t want to be, a toxic wasteland. I feel victimized.
Amelia: Why a mohawk?
Leah: Because it makes a statement: I don’t give a fuck about what people think a woman should look like. It’s giving the finger to the system that says women are supposed to walk around in skirts, in high heels, in makeup, and have perky tits.
Amelia: What makes you hesitate to get the mohawk tonight?
Leah: Because it’s real. I’m losing my hair.The minute I look like cancer, I am cancer. I’m a billboard. I can’t avoid this. I can’t speed away in my car, or slam a door, or walk away.
Amelia: Do you remember what I told you in the hospital when you went in for your mastectomy, that I was fighting the urge to scoop you up and whisk you out of there? My desire to protect you was that strong and I wanted to get you out of there so badly.
Leah: Yes. I remember.
Amelia: I want to protect you from this, too. I feel the same way about your hair.
Leah: I know. I know. So do I. But there’s nothing we can do. This is happening.
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I love the honesty of your blog. I also love that your wife is involved in it and we have her perspective. Thankfully I was ok about shaving my head but I do refuse to get about with hats and wigs and scarfs because my head is fine as it is. Naturally I’ll wear a hat if it is sunny, a peeling bald head wouldn’t be much of a good look.
You rock the mohawk!
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Yes, it’s happening. But Leah is still the smart, fierce, beautiful woman I know and love. And Amelia is her rock. Mohawk, or Mohawk…that does not change! Love you both.
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And the second “Mohawk” should read “Nohawk.” Damn autocorrect!
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My sister lost her hair too. She started wearing a bandana. I was three. I still have the bandana, and back then (1975) ain’t no cool groovy Mohawk style. You got the look for anything. Thank you for sharing such bravery.
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Stray Cat Strut…….
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Also, in terms of your identity, I think you should know this. There is not a person on the planet who would put your hair or your breast in the first 50 items of a list of things that define you in their eyes (notice I did not say describe, big difference). Here are a few that would go there. Fierce, Honest, Intelligent, Incredibly Loyal, Powerful, Dynamic, Skilled, Tireless, Determined. Loving, Ass-Kicker……I could go on (you know me)… Now that doesn’t address issues of self image of identity, that’s up to you. Bet every now and then its worth while to factor in other peoples opinions of us…..Just sayin’ Love you.
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Love, love, love the Mohawk!!! You can rock anything!
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I’m much better at talking and organizing than writing, but I’m just leaving a note that says I’m thinking about you both and wish that I could make it all go away.
I also found this article that you might find interesting, in Vogue of all places: http://www.vogue.com/projects/13262618/hair-loss-women-cancer-chemotherapy-alopecia/
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Sending much love to both of you as you navigate this new normal.
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