Acceptance is Faith Too: My Journey to Baldy Nation

I come from a long line of hairstylists—my mom, grandmom, cousins, and friends (because in a Black family, friends are cousins, and cousins are siblings). Hair has always been a big deal in my world. I’ve even written before about how long, straight hair was once the definition of beauty to me. But if I’m being honest? I was never a genuine “hair gal.”

Back in the day, you went to the salon every two weeks, and that creamy crack (relaxer) hit your scalp every 4–6 weeks like clockwork. The burns, the scabs, the smell of chemicals strong enough to clear sinuses—it was a full-fledged endurance sport. And for what? To make whiteness more comfortable with the way God hand-coiled my hair? But that’s not even what this post is about.

Whenever I left the salon with my new, flowy hair, I’d look in the mirror and think, “This is cute, but what would make it cuter? If it was shorter.” And thus began my journey through all the hairstyles—the wrap, the highlights, the braids, the sew-ins, the bob-wig, and then my fave, the shortcuts. Do you know the ones—shaved close with tiny curls and that signature swoop in the front? Loved the swoop. But through it all, my hair has always been thinner on the top.

At one point, cutting my hair became a ritual. Every time I healed from past trauma, I shaved it all off and let it grow back, fascinated by the new curl pattern that would emerge. Virgin hair is something magical.

And then Onehair grew back, and I noticed… it wasn’t soft anymore. The texture had changed. So, I got braids. Not tig—notes, either. My hair was so smooth and delicate that braids always slid out eventually. No big deal, no.

Until the nail shop.

I was sitting there, minding my business, when I noticed a quiet meeting in the corner. With the utmost respect and discretion, my nail tech walked over and gently handed me four braids—FOUR. I smiled and nodded, “Thanks, girl,” assuming they had just slipped out like usual. But when I got in my car and looked closer, I saw the attached follicles. My hair had fallen out.

By the time I got home, half my braids were gone, and small bald spots had made themselves at home on my head. I took the rest out and scheduled a barber appointment, fully prepared to shave it off and step into my wig-wearing era.

But then, something happened.

The barber shaved me low. He was nervous—I was nervous—but he did a great job. I got in my car and prepared to head straight to Hair Queen for a wig, but I had to pause as I glanced in the rearview mirror. It was cute.

I didn’t need a wig. I didn’t need a scarf. I looked good as a bald. I hit a U-turn quickly, pulled up to Sephora, and picked out the boldest lipsticks I could find. And as I walked in, head shining, I got many compliments. When I told the sales associate I had just shaved my head, she immediately smiled and said, “Welcome to Baldy Nation!”

And just like that, I was home.

I have been at peace with my baldness from day one. That doesn’t mean I never prayed for my hair to grow back. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in God’s power. But faith and acceptance are not opposites. Some people have tried to anoint my head with oil and declare growth over my scalp like I’m a barren land in need of a harvest. Others have given me side-eyed compliments when they see a little fuzz sprout up—acting like my whole life has been leading up to this moment of hair redemption. Sis, please! I showed you this old picture to flex my 100-pound weight loss, not to reminisce over my edges!

And let’s not forget the overly enthusiastic faith warriors who take it upon themselves to lay hands on my head and command my follicles to return. This one lady didn’t even ask for my consent—just a full-on, surprise attack, icy hands on my scalp, calling forth hair like she was resurrecting Lazarus. Ma’am! If you don’t, get your ashy hands off my head and focus on your split ends! I was violated in the name of follicular faith!

The reality? I know God can grow my hair back. But that’s not my testimony.  He anointed me with acceptance that this is my beautiful reality.  I trust Him! My faith is not restoring my hair but accepting my unique beauty as God’s design.

Acceptance does not mean I lack faith. It means I trust the path God has specifically designed for me. Since joining Baldy Nation, I’ve met many women navigating baldness due to sickness or circumstance. They feel free to show up as their beautiful selves—without wigs, scarves, or shame. God did not give me a crown of hair. My crown is my skin. He adorned me with a crown of boldness and acceptance. Acceptance is not resignation; it's a powerful choice to love and embrace ourselves as we are.

And why stop at hair? I love my body and the way I talk too much and overshare. I love how I process life through deep introspection (and, okay, a little overthinking). I love how I love people. I love that no matter what, I will always heal. I love how much I hate being ashy! I love making decisions because I can overthink a situation until I have exhausted every scenario. I’m not as much of a free spirit as I think! Some things God will pull you out of. Others, He will walk you through—and there is glory in that. This is a celebration of self-love and acceptance, and I invite you to join me in this celebration.

Stop fighting. Acceptance is faith, too! It takes faith to trust that God is in control and to trust His way over social norms and bad theology. You are beautiful, you are love, and you are divine.

And if nobody has welcomed you yet, let me be the first:

Welcome to Baldy Nation.

And let me leave you with this—acceptance is not a sign of defeat. If you have accepted the end of a relationship, a business, a job, or a dream, do not let shame creep in. God is not done. He will always upgrade. And let me tell you—His upgrades rarely look how you expect them to. Right now, God is removing shame and empowering you to embrace the unconventional path He has created. It will go against what you thought you knew. It will come with negative feedback. But God’s peace and assurance will override all of that. There is a whole new world waiting for you.

And trust me—you’re going to love it there.