Its A Grey Matter, Explained.
On choice, visibility, and professional identity
It’s a Grey Matter
This is personal, and it’s deliberate
This is something I feel genuinely passionate about.
I’m writing this because I’ve experienced the looks. The comments. The pauses that hang in the air just a little too long.
This is about my decision, and about supporting other women who are contemplating theirs.
Women have a right to go grey without commentary. Without scrutiny. Without feeling like a personal choice requires a public opinion poll. This isn’t a trend piece or a beauty manifesto. It’s about autonomy, dignity, and the very human desire to move through the world without being quietly evaluated.
And let’s be honest from the start: going grey is not a quick decision. It’s a journey. A one- to two-year journey. There are awkward phases, questionable lighting moments, and days where you think, “I should’ve timed this better.” There is discomfort, both internal and external.
But there’s also something deeply rewarding on the other side.
It didn’t start gracefully
I didn’t wake up one morning with serene clarity and decide to let my hair go grey.
My hairdresser, trying to be helpful, suggested we colour my hair grey. Logical. Controlled. Sensible.
Within a month, that grey faded. Underneath it, the blonde highlights I’d been maintaining for years began peeking through. The result was confusing: grey, blonde, roots, tones that didn’t agree with each other.
It didn’t look intentional. It looked like my hair was negotiating its identity in real time.
That’s when I realized I couldn’t colour my hair anymore, not even grey. I had to let it go. Let the process work. Let the natural me come out.
Once I stopped trying to control it, it became, unexpectedly, a beautiful process.
The moment it became unmistakable
Not long after, I was in Vancouver at a national sales conference, one of those polished events filled with lanyards, keynote stages, and confident handshakes.
A senior VP came up to me. He and I had worked together at another company. We had professional history.
He smiled, lifted his forefinger, and slowly made a circle above the top of his own head.
“Oh… doing something different up there?”
He was referring to my hair.
I didn’t respond, not because I didn’t have words, but because I was genuinely shocked.
For a brief moment, I imagined doing the same, circling his midsection or his back and asking, “Oh… doing something different here?”
Of course, that would have been unthinkable. Inappropriate. Career-limiting.
And yet, his comment about my hair was apparently acceptable.
That contrast said everything.
When hair becomes permission
The comment wasn’t really about hair. It was about permission.
Grey hair on women seems to arrive with an invisible sign that says: comments welcome.
From colleagues. From recruiters. From strangers.
In decades of working in corporate sales, strategy, and leadership, I had never seen someone gesture at a man’s head and ask publicly, whether he was “doing something different” as his hair went grey.
On men, grey reads as experience.
On women, it’s treated as a deviation.
The quiet math women do
Letting your hair go grey as a woman isn’t just a style choice. It’s a career calculation.
We ask ourselves whether we’ll still get the interview, still be seen as current, or whether this will be read as confidence, or complacency.
These questions aren’t written into HR policies, but they shape real outcomes every day.
The irony is hard to miss: organizations speak loudly about diversity and inclusion, while appearance-based age bias quietly determines who is seen as polished, relevant, or leadership-ready.
This is not about dye
Let me be clear: this is not a war on hair colouring.
Colour your hair. Don’t colour your hair. Change it every month if that brings you joy.
This is about choice without consequence.
My choice is simple. My favourite colour is now grey.
My hair is fully grey. It has been for over a year. And what surprised me most wasn’t how hard the transition was, it was how affirming the outcome became.
The compliments, mostly from women are sincere, supportive, and often whispered like a secret: “I wish I could do that.”
You can.
When looks speak louder than words
I’ve noticed something else.
Men turn around and stare at my hair. Not subtly. Not briefly. Openly.
And I keep asking myself: why is that the first thing they notice?
Looks can be just as intrusive as comments, sometimes worse. They linger. They assess. They reduce.
That question, why, is exactly why this conversation matters.
Time reclaimed
There’s also a very practical upside no one talks about enough: time.
As I age, I value mine fiercely. I no longer sit on hold out of politeness. I no longer surrender entire afternoons to routines that no longer serve me.
Before, I was paying roughly $350 every two to three months and spending three to four hours in a salon chair.
Now? I pay about $100. I’m in and out in under an hour.
That’s not just savings. That’s life reclaimed.
What this is really about
This isn’t about rejecting beauty.
It’s about rejecting obligation.
We are individual human beings. We all have the right to make choices about our bodies, our appearance, and how we show up without commentary, judgment, or silent scrutiny.
Grey hair didn’t make me less capable. Less relevant. Or invisible.
It simply made certain assumptions visible.
And maybe that’s the real issue.
A note to women considering this path
If you’re thinking about going grey, know this:
It’s a process.
It’s sometimes uncomfortable.
It’s rarely linear.
But it can return something invaluable, your time, your autonomy, and a deeper sense of alignment with yourself.
Move forward if it feels right.
Ignore the comments.
Dismiss the looks.
It’s a Grey Matter isn’t about hair.
It’s about agency, visibility, and the freedom that comes from choosing yourself.