Our Stories

I was diagnosed with Alopecia Universalis when I was eighteen months old. I have never really known life with hair. As a child, I understood I was different long before I had the words to explain it. I felt it in the way people looked at me.

For years, I wore a pink bandana almost every day. It made me feel safe. It helped me feel normal. The bandana became familiar. Comforting. Like a part of me. As I got older, it started to stand out. Kids asked questions. Some days we explained what alopecia was. Other days, we did not. Sometimes it felt easier to say I was allergic to hair and move on.

Makeup became a turning point for me. It was creative and fun, and it helped me feel more like myself. Learning how to draw on my eyebrows changed everything. For the first time, I could imagine life without the bandana.

One morning, I walked out the door with my bald head showing. From the outside, it probably looked small. Inside, it was everything. It was the first time I chose not to hide. The first time I let people truly see me. That moment became the beginning of real confidence and self acceptance.

Growing up, there was very little information or community around alopecia. Everything we found focused on fixing what made me different, not helping me feel proud of who I already was. There was no cure. No treatment that would change that.

Beauty Beyond Barriers exists because I never want anyone to feel like they need to hide who they are. This is the space I always needed growing up. A place where you feel safe, supported, and encouraged through every stage of your journey.

I was six years old when it started. I was running through sprinklers in the backyard when my mom noticed a perfect circle on the back of my scalp. What began as a small patch spread quickly. Hair on my pillow. Doctor visits. Creams. Shots I hated so much I tried to run out of the office. Nothing worked.

When I was seven, I asked to shave it all off. I sat on a shower chair while my dad shaved what was left. Then he shaved his own head so we could match.

Alopecia is unpredictable. Some months I have eyebrows. Some months I do not. Sometimes hair grows in places that make no sense. I left school for winter break with hair and came back without it. That kind of growing up changes you. I learned early that I could not control any of it.

When you are bald for most of your childhood, blending in is not an option. You find out quickly who your real friends are. Confidence has to come from within because nothing on the outside stays the same long enough to rely on.

I did not start wearing wigs until I was twenty one. Not out of shame. Out of curiosity. When I finally tried them, it felt playful. A new look. A new version of me for the day.

The hardest years came later. In my twenties, people I trusted mocked me in private group chats. They edited photos. Said things that stayed with me long after. I learned that their cruelty was never a reflection of me.

I have lived with alopecia for nineteen years now, and I would not change it. I love who it shaped me into. I love the confidence it forced me to build, the strength it demanded, and the community it brought into my life. Alopecia is unpredictable, unfair, and sometimes ridiculous. But it gave me a depth of self love many people never experience. I would choose this life again.

I was twenty two when I found my first bald patch. At first, I was in denial. I told myself it would grow back. That I was overreacting. It did not. As my hair continued to fall out, the emotions came fast. Shame. Anger. Fear. A deep sense of loss I did not know how to process.

I had grown up confident. Hair was part of how I understood myself. Around the same time, I lost my dream dance job and a relationship that mattered deeply. It felt like everything familiar disappeared at once.

Losing my hair was not just about appearance. It was about who I believed I was allowed to be. I was terrified that without hair, I would no longer be someone people wanted to see. So I hid. I wore a wig for nearly a year. To everyone else, I looked the same. Happy. Outgoing. Confident. Behind closed doors, I would take it off and cry. Living two lives was exhausting.

Eventually, I reached a breaking point. My brother filmed a dance video where I removed my wig and showed my bald head. Posting it felt terrifying. And freeing. That moment changed everything. Not because life became easy, but because I stopped hiding.

It led me to become the first bald model featured in Sports Illustrated Swim. More importantly, it showed me the power of being seen.

I created The Baldtourage to give women and girls the connection I needed. Not to fix anyone. Not to change anyone. Just to remind people they are not alone. Being part of Beauty Beyond Barriers is an extension of that same purpose.

If you are losing your hair, feeling scared, or feeling alone, please know this. Be kind to yourself. This moment will not always feel the way it feels right now. I see you. I am with you.