There was a time in my life when I didn’t just feel heartbroken—I felt invisible. After being made to feel unlovable, I bleached my hair and tried to go blonde. I wasn’t just changing my look. I was trying to change me.

I thought if I looked different—lighter, whiter, more like what I’d been told was “beautiful”—maybe the pain would hurt less. Maybe I’d finally feel chosen.

That urge didn’t come out of nowhere.

As a Pakistani woman, I grew up hearing Pakistani men casually say they preferred white girls. That kind of messaging sticks. Slowly, I began to believe that my features, my coloring, my natural beauty weren’t “enough.” And when the heartbreak came, that belief resurfaced with full force.

Despite people close to me gently warning me not to bleach my hair, I did it anyway. At the time, I couldn’t fully receive their compliments or concern—I simply didn’t believe them.

Eventually, the damage caught up. My long, thick, silky black hair—one of the features I once felt most proud of—became dry, brittle, and broken. I had no choice but to cut it all off.

And in that moment, I wasn’t just shedding damaged hair—I was letting go of the version of myself who believed she had to transform into someone else to be worthy of love.

But here’s a key distinction I’ve come to understand:

You are allowed to change your appearance. You’re allowed to explore new styles, enhance features, experiment, or evolve. There’s nothing wrong with doing what makes you feel confident, empowered, or aligned with your current self.

The issue arises when change comes from a place of deep unworthiness—when it’s less about expression and more about erasure. When we try to become someone entirely different to feel lovable or enough, that’s when we lose ourselves.

Change isn’t the enemy. Self-abandonment is.

I see this all the time with the women I work with—brilliant, sensitive, resilient clients from all backgrounds who feel the urge to alter themselves after loss or emotional disconnection. And I get it. I’ve lived it.

So often, we try to change our appearance when we’re really trying to soothe a deeper emotional wound. We think reshaping the outside will ease the ache inside. We chase worth in the mirror because sitting with rejection, grief, or loneliness feels unbearable.

What the Research Says

A study published in the Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology found that individuals with lower self-esteem and higher appearance-contingent self-worth are more likely to engage in drastic appearance changes—especially after rejection or relationship loss—as a way to regain a sense of control or validation (Park & Maner, 2009).

From a psychological perspective, this is known as a maladaptive coping strategy—a behavior that offers short-term relief but masks deeper pain. Research shows that while these strategies may help us feel better momentarily, the root wound remains unhealed (Compas et al., 2001).

In moments of vulnerability, the body becomes the canvas where unresolved emotions are expressed.

Trying to change ourselves when we’re in pain isn’t a flaw—it’s a survival strategy. We look for control in our reflection when the world around us feels uncontrollable.

But healing doesn’t happen from the outside in. It happens from the inside out.

A Message for Women of Color

Self-worth, especially for women of color, is often shaped not just by personal experiences but by cultural conditioning and systemic bias. The internalization of Eurocentric beauty standards—what psychologists call colorism—has been shown to negatively affect body image, self-esteem, and even relationship satisfaction (Hunter, 2007).

Acknowledging this allows us to extend compassion to the parts of ourselves that were simply trying to belong in a world that told us we needed to change to be seen.

Today, I Ask My Clients to Reflect:

• What am I really feeling?
• Who made me feel like I wasn’t enough?
• What old messages am I still carrying?
• And how can I meet that part of myself with compassion instead of criticism?

My hair? It’s not back to where it was, and it won’t be for a while. But this time, I’m growing it back for me. With patience, with care, and with full acceptance of who I’ve always been.

If you’ve ever felt like you had to change yourself to be loved, I want you to know:

You are not broken. You are human.

And you deserve healing that honors your whole self—not just the parts the world has deemed acceptable.

Let this be your season of growth—not to become someone else, but to finally come home to you.

With love and faith,

Z

_____

Backed by Research

This post was informed by psychological research on self-worth, appearance-based coping, and cultural identity:

• Park, L. E., & Maner, J. K. (2009). Appearance-based rejection sensitivity and self-esteem. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 28(2), 244–270.
• Compas, B. E., Connor-Smith, J. K., Saltzman, H., Thomsen, A. H., & Wadsworth, M. E. (2001). Coping with stress during childhood and adolescence. Psychological Bulletin, 127(1), 87–127.
• Hunter, M. L. (2007). The persistent problem of colorism: Skin tone, status, and inequality. Sociology Compass, 1(1), 237–254.