The act of dyeing your hair [1] is a common mode of self-expression. If you're a queer person especially, hair color can take on a deeper meaning. It can be a chance to explore within our identity, to get in touch with our true authentic selves.

In late 2018, I was confused about my gender identity and wanted to experiment with the way I looked. I was exhausted from the mundane pattern of my natural curly black hair, growing it out until it was time for the bimonthly haircut. So I motivated myself to break out of my comfort zone and dye my hair for the first time [2]. Because I was a novice to all things beauty, I asked my sister Nia — who was an expert on the practice, for she practically dyed her hair every color of the rainbow [3] herself — to guide me through the steps over the phone.

My attempt to achieve a lighter brown color ended up a dark red. I liked the way I looked for a brief moment and kept it for a few months up until I came out as nonbinary in March 2019. Realizing the intended-brown-turned-red wasn't for me, I buzzed it off and went back to my black curls for the rest of that year and through the pandemic.

Then, recently, like many queer people before making a major hair change, I had a nervous breakdown. Summer was in full swing and I was still recovering from the loss of my father last March, just a few days before my birthday. I was having a hard time grieving. I had been out as a nonbinary person for three years, but I felt stifled by my service-industry job and out of control of my life and who I really was.

I decided to dye my hair a more dramatic color, this time bright blond [4]. To me, the shade defined confidence and independence. In the vein of Riz Ahmed in "Sound of Metal" and Reese Witherspoon in "Legally Blonde," I hoped my blond era would give me the power to take control of my life again and push me forward.

I called up Nia at 1 a.m. and asked if she could dye my hair for me instead of guiding me through. She agreed but warned I'd be her "first subject." The next day, I FaceTimed her while I was at a beauty shop buying all the materials. She told me to get quick blue bleach, 30 volume developer, and purple shampoo. Because I am still a noob, the situation was the equivalent of Patrick looking for the lid.

For the next several hours, Nia terraformed my curls [5], dyeing every strand from black to blond with her small hands. Initially, I was aiming for a buttery shade, but I only had an hour before I had to be at my sister Shavon's graduation, so Nia rinsed out my hair and let a dark blond take shape.

For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of freedom. In the moment where I felt parts of myself decaying, consumed by a joyless lifestyle, the act of giving my hair a new coat of paint brought me some color. The blond hair was my way of resetting myself, wrangling back the life I didn't recognize. When I looked in the mirror, I saw myself. Of course, you see your reflection — that's how mirrors work — but I saw all of me, the real Rendy. It was like a weight off my shoulders.

Because of that, I felt a new chapter of my life was incoming. A few days later, I took a major leap of faith and quit my service-industry job. A few days after that, I finally got to participate in my graduation ceremony. Today, I am taking chances on myself and rediscovering myself as a queer journalist, and I've never been happier.

Coloring my hair allowed me to get in tune with my body and soul. When I was losing sight of my identity, going blond gave me the push I needed to finally put myself first. Now I feel more confident in my skin and am ready for whatever lies ahead — as long as I've got my friends, my family, and a box of hair dye, as needed.