In 2022, after a chaotic breakup (aren’t they all chaotic?), something unexpected happened: my hair, much like my ex, decided it had had enough. And just like that, it wasn’t just my relationship that was over—my hair had left me too.

I tried arresting the hair fall with serums, supplements and ayurveda. I even considered prayer, but by then, my hair seemed to have already packed its bags. With each strand that fell, my self-esteem followed, vanishing as quickly as my hairline. I started avoiding mirrors and, eventually, people. If no one saw me, they couldn’t witness my slow transformation into Gollum, could they?

Getting Over My Hair Loss

Because, really, who are we without our hair? We’ve been conditioned to see it as an inseparable part of our identity, defining every phase of our lives. Think about it: the emo bangs that restricted visibility in high school? The Redefining Maya the Drag Queen bleach-and-dye college experiment? The chic bob at your first job interview? Hair has always been a marker of who we are.

Thinning hair isn’t just about vanity. It feels like a loss of control, of self. There are countless reasons why women lose hair: genetics, alopecia, hormonal imbalances, mental health struggles, cancer, or just the general malaise of 21st-century living. Over 40% of women experience some form of hair loss by the age of 40, yet it’s rarely discussed. Instead, we’re bombarded with miracle cures, which, at best, offer temporary fixes and, at worst, come with side effects that make you question if hair is worth the hassle (looking at you, minoxidil). And even then, the emotional toll can be heavier than the physical one.

 At my lowest, I found myself Googling, “Will anyone love me if I’m bald?” (Spoiler: the answer is yes.) That’s when I stumbled upon the #hairloss community on Instagram. And a whole world of wigs, toppers, and alternative solutions opened up to me—options I didn’t even know existed.

It felt like I’d discovered a secret sisterhood. We’ve all been told that long, luscious locks are the pinnacle of femininity. But honestly? Deepika Padukone could wear a literal mop on her head and still be just as gorgeous.

Hita Prem, the founder of the alternative hair company NYW Hair, battled hair loss from age 19. “When I started NYW Hair, I wanted to give women the same sense of empowerment I felt when I began using alt hair. Alt hair now empowers me to uplift others, to give them the confidence to face challenges.”

The hair loss community didn’t just show me that losing my hair didn’t define my worth; it also reminded me that it’s okay to grieve my hair. So, I bought my first wig: long, wavy, and dip-dyed galactic purple. Wigs, I realised, were like makeup—they didn’t need to look “natural,” they just needed to feel like me. 

In the drag community, wigs are transformative like magic. They alter, amplify, and redefine identities in the blink of an eye. Wigs allow performers to play with femininity, twisting, exaggerating, and showing that hair is all about fun, performance, and power. According to Alex Mathew, aka Maya the Drag Queen, “The moment you have a good wig on your head, you feel like a different person altogether. Wigs play a huge part in this transformation of self.”

For women dealing with hair loss, wigs don’t have to be just a “fix” for what’s missing. They’re a chance to experiment and reinvent every day. Feeling like a blonde on Monday? Done. A wild curly mane by Friday? Why not! Like drag, wigs allow people to embrace different facets of their identity, proving that femininity isn’t biology—it’s self-expression.

Mumbai-based artist and performer Durga Shakti Gawde has had an existential relationship with hair. “It’s about self-image, and that’s what your self-worth and self-esteem are based on. Being bald helps me connect more with my femininity because I’m not distracted by societal expectations,” they say.

In the end, hair loss can teach us all an unexpected lesson: it’s not about the hair — it’s about how we choose to show up in the world. Whether you’re rocking a wig, a topper, or your natural scalp, it’s about feeling like yourself on your terms. Gender, beauty, identity—none of these are tied to a specific look. They’re yours to define, play with, and embrace. Hair or no hair, you’re still the star of your own story. And if you ask me, that kind of self-love is the most powerful balm there is.

Read the full story on ELLE India’s new issue, or download your digital copy via Magzter.

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