Not to mention all the millennials — and Kim Kardashian — dying their hair bottle gray. All winter long, I gathered my hair in a messy topknot or hid it under one of the two pom-pom hats, waiting for the courage to cut off the remaining dyed part of my hair. Or, worse, I worried, from watching me despite my daily feminist lectures at the kitchen table. I've had a lot of "pinch me, is this really happening? My unlined, dewy skin was my best feature, and my habit of dressing like I lived in Bushwick, Brooklyn, rather than Brunswick, Maine, meant that people thought I was 25 when I was 32, 30 when I was 40, 37 when I was And by me, I mean my looks. After my book launch, I began spending a disproportionate chunk of each day considering my roots and what to do about them. Joan Didion was photographed gray for her famous Celine campaign, but switches between silver and brown bobs in the recent Netflix documentary The Center Will Not Hold. Was I somehow punishing myself, post publication, for writing the hard truth about my parents? Celebrated most recently by Oprah on the cover of O, the Afro remains a powerful and personal expression of racial identity. But deep down maybe I was still and forever a suburban Long Island girl.