I never was a shy girl. My childhood was filled with friends, joy and confidence – I dreamed of becoming a Singer. My name, ‘Sang-gee-ta’, means ‘music, the singing kind’ in my father’s language, so it felt like destiny. But the same month I had the guts to sing in front of my family for the first time, was the same month I found a small, dollar sized, bald patch on my scalp amongst my long, dark hair. I was diagnosed with Alopecia Universalis.
The months that followed, at 8 years old, were mornings of waking up to my pillow covered in hair, clumps of it falling out in the shower, and perhaps the most dreaded – saying goodbye to my eyebrows, my eyelashes, every hair on my body. 8 years old was a strange year. I went from singing, performing, itching to speak in front of the class and writing/directing my very own play for the class talent show, to a whole new girl who was afraid to utter a single word to even those I used to call my friends. Any new kid that arrived at school, would have assumed I was never anything but ‘that shy kid in primary school who had no friends and didn’t talk’.
“8 years old was a strange year. I went from singing, performing, itching to speak in front of the class and writing/directing my own play for the class talent show, to a whole new girl who was afraid to utter a single word to even those I used to call friends.”
I lost myself, I lost my friends, I felt the need to become a tomboy because I never felt pretty enough to be called a ‘girl’. I endured crude stares and bullying daily, from fellow children and adults. I grew up too fast. I lost my confidence. I developed an Anxiety Disorder. There was always a part of me deep down that wanted to perform, to act, to sing, but I faded into the background, and it seemed like that’s where everyone else thought I belonged too.
When my hair began to grow back through high school, I felt my confidence grow back with it. It was a miracle.
I felt somewhat like that little girl I had lost all those years ago, destined to be seen, and I found a genuine love for Acting. Being on stage was the one place I found that I could completely be myself, without barriers, without judgment. It was healing, and it’s all I wanted to do. So I went to Acting school, straight out of high school. And I grew even more. My hair was long again, despite a couple patches yet to grow back, but they were easily hidden. Everything felt possible.
“Being on stage was the one place I found that I could completely be myself, without barriers, without judgment. It was healing, and it’s all I wanted to do.”
But in 2020, with the wave of Covid, lockdowns, mandates, a halt to the film industry and stress… I began to lose my hair for the second time in my life. I couldn’t seem to stop it. I felt my femininity, and confidence slipping through my fingers all over again, with each strand of hair that fell from my scalp. I’d grown my confidence in who I was, I could deal with wearing a wig. But losing my eyelashes was the last straw. I felt vulnerable. I felt ugly. I was Depressed.
I think I hide it well. Not just the Alopecia, but the depth of loss that can come with it. I hide it with humour to those that know about it. I think they assume, or perhaps forget that it’s ever that difficult for me to live with, because I seem to manage it so well. It’s become my normal. But I always have a fear in the back of my mind. Especially when it comes to castings and auditions. ‘Should I mention I have this? They’ll probably see it as just another reason to say no, to go with someone else. How will they accommodate it If I do get the role? How will I hide it? They’ll see me as difficult. ’ You carry enough worries and face enough barriers as an Actor already, to deal with another one can be too much sometimes.
Some days, particularly windy days, make me more insecure and anxious than ever about my wig… I want nothing more than to just be at home. In safety. Away from possible stares of confusion or curiosity that something isn’t quite right when they look at me. Away from the questions that are likely to follow, even though it’s a subject I would never bring up by my own merit. Because some days, I’d really rather not have to speak about it, not have to worry about it at all. Not have to spend lengthy times getting ready, not need another moment to check my hair in a mirror throughout the day, not have to freak out if I forget my eyebrow pencil – or wig glue, in case the worst happens. I know these things must make me seem so vain to those who don’t know about my condition. They don’t know that some days I wish I could just wake up and throw my hair into a bun and be done with it.
I realise so many of the insecurities I have are in my own head, a part of the Anxiety. I can often assume the worst or imagine people are thinking things that they really aren’t. It can make it exceedingly hard to trust anyone. But taking the time to learn about my Anxiety Disorder has helped me understand myself better. To realise that, no, you’re not crazy, you just think a little differently. You may have triggers but recognising them helps to deal with them. Some days will be harder than others, some days you’ll need to cry. But when tomorrow comes, you can pick yourself back up again and take small steps to getting better. Whether it’s striving to eat well, get your body moving, sleep earlier, put the phone away, pray. Sometimes picking up the small things will help the greater whole. Speak to someone who gets it, whether it’s family, a friend, a professional or spiritual.
“Some days you’ll need to cry. But when tomorrow comes, you can pick yourself back up again and take small steps to getting better. Whether it’s striving to eat well, get your body moving, sleep earlier, put the phone away, pray.”
I’m grateful for the people I do have around me, although few. My spiritual relationship with God has helped in strengthening my mind and my faith that difficult days will always pass, and that I’m never alone. I’ve also found having an outlet to channel your frustrations and hardships into can really help. For me that was Acting, but more importantly it’s creating my own work, writing my own stories, getting to portray these characters I’ve imagined on a page.
When it comes to my Alopecia, I found a lot of courage in discovering social media creators such as danigmakeup and chloebean.
Seeing them turn their situation around and reclaiming confidence in themselves and getting to play around with different looks helped me to see my condition in a new way. Thinking back to the little girl I was who had to go through what she did at such a young age, reminds me that there are other little girls just like me. I felt like the only one in the world going through what I was, and I would hate for other children to feel the same way. To give back in the way of being someone they can look up to, especially in an industry that focuses so much on outward appearance, motivates me to keep going.
Although the difficulties we go through can seem to crush us, they can create in us a strength and purpose to help those going through the same trauma. They can give us a greater depth that enriches us as humans and as storytellers. If we just hold onto the hope that no pain lasts forever, that we can go on with our lives, that we can see the other side… We can re-inspire faith in others who may be thinking it’s the end, and in the process, we can re-inspire ourselves.
“Although the difficulties we go through can seem to crush us, they can create in us a strength and purpose to help those going through the same trauma.”
Written by Sangeetha Gowda ~
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Sangeetha’s IG: https://www.instagram.com/sangeethagowda_/
Diversity Australia Magazine 