WE LCO ME TO

MIDDLEHOOD
BY JUDI KETTELER looked great. Still, it seemed unthinkable
to me. I had little kids. I was the baby of my
family. I did pull-ups regularly. OK, not ac-
tual pull-ups, but push-ups. Lots of push-
ups. I was too young, and as much as I was
trying to embrace midlife, my dark hair felt
like my last stand. I wasn’t ready.
I can do it when I’m 50. I’ll be ready then.
This is what I told myself every time I
looked in the mirror, yanked out a gray
wisp at my temple, or bought another box
of Clairol Nice’n Easy Root Touch-Up in
Medium Golden Brown. Like driving at 16
or voting at 18 or drinking at 21, 50 was the
age when permission would be granted. I
wasn’t sure what would be different when
I crossed the half-century mark, but I as-
sumed it would be some general feeling of
surrender. I’d pull up to the mirror, hum
that Aimee Mann song about how it’s not
going to stop so I should give up, and then
do just that: Give up and gray up.
But even as I said it, I thought, I won’t be
able to do it. I would look at the image on my
phone screen saver, a selfie of my husband
and me, my dark hair cascading effortlessly,
and think about how sad I would surely feel
to say goodbye to that brown-haired girl.
Seven years older than me, my husband was
already a hunky silver. But what would I be?

I SPUN AROUND ON THE HAMSTER

The Sound wheel of hiding gray every eight weeks, then

six weeks, then four weeks, until it seemed
there were only about two good weeks be-
fore I spotted the dreaded root regrowth.

of Graying
But I couldn’t let go.
Until, one day, I could. That’s how we
roll in this family. We get our kicks from
sudden changes of heart. Like my 12-year-
old daughter, who vowed she never ever
HOW TO NAVIGATE THE PERSONAL AND PUBLIC

F
wanted to go to sleepaway camp, right up

POLITICS OF HAIR.
until the evening she charged into the living
room and said, “I want to go to sleepaway
camp! Please sign me up right now!”
FOR YEARS, I COULD NOT IMAGINE SUCCUMBING TO GRAY HAIR. IT WAS FINE FOR OTHER My moment came in January. I’d like to
people. You know, older people. For women of a certain age with gorgeous silver manes, say I woke up New Year’s Day with a vision,
like Helen Mirren and Donna Brazile. But not me. but it actually happened in the car on the
I was a brown-haired girl, and other than that blonde phase in my twenties that’s what drive to my salon that first week. I was on
I would stay. Even when gray hair sprouted in wiry little strands in my thirties, it didn’t Madison Road, waiting to turn left, and in
seem real. It was almost novel. Gray hair, how hilarious, I thought. the space of waiting for the green light, I
But by my forties, I wasn’t laughing anymore. My gray was becoming intractable, and I thought, What if today was the day I did it?
was spending hundreds of dollars a year at the salon and root touching at home constantly. I walked in and told Megan, who had
Even during COVID, which was the ultimate permission for forsaking hair-coloring rou- been coloring my hair forever, “I think I’m
tines, I just root-touched at home more. ready to go gray.”
My sister, who is 10 years older than me, transitioned to gray a few years ago, and she “Yeah, you are!” she said. She saw it in

3 0 C I N C I N N AT I M A G A Z I N E . C O M S E P T E M B E R 2 0 2 3 ILLUSTR ATIO N BY D O L A SU N
WELCOME TO MIDDLEHOOD
my eyes. “I kinda love this gray,” she said,
her fingers combing through the strands
around my temples.
“I do, too,” I said, and shockingly I
(mostly) meant it. For the next few hours,
she stripped out the color that had been
HAIR IS NEVER JUST HAIR. EVEN AS IT’S A SPACE FOR
EXPRESSION, HAIR IS LAYERED WITH EXPECTATIONS.
GENDER, RACE, CLASS, AGE, RELIGION, YOU NAME IT.
added—so much color—to get closer to
my natural color. Then she added some
lowlights for the gray to blend better as it
grew in more and more.
I repeated that same process in May—
more lowlights, more blending—and if all
goes as planned, I’ll do it at least one more
time. And then nature is in charge. Nature
has always been in charge. At age 48, two
SEPT 9– OCT 1
REGIONAL PREMIERE DRAMEDY
WHAT THE
CONSTITUTION
MEANS TO ME
by Heidi Schreck
3 2 C I N C I N N AT I M A G A Z I N E . C O M S E P T E M B E R 2 0 2 3
years before my target, I’m just giving up
the fight against this particular enterprise.
What’s interesting is that the graying
process doesn’t exactly feel like giving up. It
doesn’t bring to mind Aimee Mann’s som-
ber tones or a sad inevitability. It’s more of a
Donna Summer song. And not “Last Dance.”
More like “Hot Stuff.”
WOMEN’S HAIR IS EMOTIONALLY AND
politically complicated. I recently read
Mary Louise Kelly’s new book, It. Goes. So.
Fast., an account of her efforts to slow down
and appreciate her oldest son’s last year of
high school as well as a general meditation
WORLD PREMIERE MUSICAL
FIONA:
THE MUSICAL
book by Zina Camblin
music & lyrics by David Kisor
NOV 29–
DEC 29
www.ensemblecincinnati.org
on middle-age angst.
Kelly talks about her own consideration
of going gray and realizes she isn’t ready
yet. But she reflects on the fact that, for
women in power or in the media—and def-
initely for women in Washington, D.C.—
going gray can place too much negative at-
tention on them and even make them seem
less powerful (as opposed to men seeming
more powerful as they grow more silver).
Does Nancy Pelosi have even a spot of gray
at 83? No, she does not. I’m guessing it’s
simply more expedient for her, and for
many women in the public eye, to avoid the
conversation altogether.
Because it is often a conversation. A
sideways look. A suggestion that some-
thing might be amiss. My 14-year-old son
recently asked—out of nowhere, in the
middle of a doctor’s office visit—“What’s
up with your hair, Mom? Why is it a bunch
of different colors?” He seemed genuinely
bewildered. As a self-employed writer
who’s worked mostly from home over the
SEASON FUNDER
OPERATING SUPPORT
PH OTO G R A PH BY J O N ATH A N W I LLI S
 past 20 years, I don’t have coworkers. But
I can imagine, if I did, the little glances I
might get. I already steel myself for the
momentary “Oh!” looks I’ll get from people
who haven’t seen me for a while.
That said, little notice has been paid to
my hair in the scheme of things, and I’m
mostly unqualified to talk about what it
really feels like to be judged for hair, given
what Black women have historically had to
navigate and still have to navigate. First,
there is the general idiocy of people—
mostly white people—about anything to
do with textured hair. Black women also
regularly face all manner of comments, un-
welcome hands touching and tugging, and
downright harassment and employment
discrimination.
The point is: Hair is never just hair. Even
as it’s a space for expression—what Cin-
cinnatian doesn’t love Molly Wellmann’s
fuchsia hair?—hair is layered with expecta-
tions. Gender, race, class, age, religion. You
name the category, and there’s something
going on when it comes to hair.
SEVERAL MONTHS AND SEVERAL INCHES
of gray roots in, I’m glad to report that l
mostly feel a sense of liberation. Of saying,
“This is me. Here I am. Women are allowed
to age. Got something to say about it? Go
eff yourself.”
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss
my dark hair. If I said I didn’t look at pic-
tures, even from a year ago, and notice the
effect of gray hair on my face. How it feels
like “before” and “after.” I worry that my
hair looks like some giant mistake. Like
I’m walking around in the world and just
haven’t noticed what’s going on.
The other day, I was finishing up a long
run. It was brutally hot, and I looked a
fright—red face, sweat dripping, hair in a
messy bun, strands of brown and blonde
and gray matted to my head. An older man
who lives in my neighborhood stopped me.
He looks like Sam Elliot, so we’ll call him
Sam Elliot. “I just wanted to tell you, I’ve
been seeing you out here running for so
long,” Sam said. “I see your transformation.”
I’ve been running for almost 30 years, so
I don’t exactly know what transformation
he was talking about. But I started doing
weight training about a year ago, so maybe
it was that. Or maybe it’s that this graying
hair makes me suddenly look like I’m in in-
credible shape “for my age.”
Either way, it wasn’t creepy how he said
it. It didn’t feel inappropriate, or male-
gazey, or anything like the HR guy who used
to stare openly at my breasts. It was more
like, “I see you working so hard on these
streets we share.” It made me feel seen.
Do I need Sam, or anyone, to see me?
No, but it’s kind of nice. Because the real
fear of gray hair is being invisible, isn’t it?
A ghost of your former self, fading into the
background. Like that Visage song, “Fade to
Grey,” with its tinny new wave beat.
Except I’m an ’80s girl, and I can rock
that song. Meet me on the dance floor, and
we’ll show the young ones how to shine.

The Queen City’s university since 1819.

For over 200 years, UC remains at the
forefront of innovation, improving the
physical, environmental, social, and
economic health of our city. In fiscal
year 2022, UC sparked $10.6 billion in
economic impact to the region.

#WeAreCincinnati
uc.edu/wearecincinnati

PH OTO G R A PH BY J O N ATH A N W I LLI S S E P T E M B E R 2 0 2 3 C I N C I N N AT I M A G A Z I N E . C O M 3 3