It's a condition that's quite rare.
And because I can hide it so well, few people know.
You feel like you're alone.
It's a very difficult thing to express.
That's a big part of sharing my story, because it sort of feels like a coming out process.
So, alopecia areata is an auto-immune condition that causes your immune system to mistake
in my case, my hair follicles as foreign bacteria.
My white blood cells are shrinking my hair follicles to the point where they can't inhabit hair.
The condition, most scientists agree, is genetic.
I was about 12, turning 13 years old. I was first year of high school, the best time for it to happen.
You know, I started off having bald patches.
And it sort of started quite steadily falling out.
I think it would've all fallen out within six months.
And then I started losing my eyebrows, so I had to deal with that.
Then I started losing my eyelashes, and my nostril hair.
Generally I'm not comfortable going outside and interacting with people
when I'm wigless because there's the expectation that a woman should look feminine
and have beautiful hair in order to be attractive.
And there's quite an outstanding double-standard when it comes to
what is socially acceptable for a woman to look like.
And although men with alopecia have quite a hard time with it, it's far more socially acceptable for bald men.
Things like wearing a wig aren't physically comfortable for me, but I do it because emotionally and mentally
it makes my everyday life a lot easier.
For me it's easier to, I suppose, have that facade.
And it's nice to have people
treat you on the basis of who you are as opposed to what you look like.
Hey, how are you?
So we're at Charmaine's Salon, and it's where I come to get my wigs made.
Let's pop this one off.
Put it on the stand.
And I'll have a look at your scalp, make sure everything's okay.
I guess with any illness that's quite physically outstanding
it's limiting in terms of your relationships.
You get into dating someone and there's a point where you have to tell them you have alopecia.
In my case because I'm wearing a wig, it's just impractical and uncomfortable otherwise.
Say you're going in for a kiss and you're worried about them gripping like the nape of your neck
maybe feeling the base of your wig.
Or you're worried about they'll accidentally brush off some of your eyebrow that you've drawn on
or you're worried about being in the bedroom, and them tugging on your wig and it falling off
and you both being incredibly awkward, not knowing what to do.
Not feeling any lumps or bumps or anything, no hair underneath so that's great.
My greatest fear is being stared at.
And not knowing what people are thinking.
And that feeling of someone trying to figure out who you are or shocked by you or scared by you.
It makes you really uncomfortable with yourself, and the situation because you're like
why are they looking at me, when I know there's nothing wrong with me.
So, to all of the people staring at me right now, I guess my message would be to
start staring at bald women in a complementary way.
And in a way that you would stare at any one else on the street.
Because, at the end of the day, you know if you lost your hair, you'd still be the same person.