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 to be worthy of love.

That experience taught me something I now help clients uncover in therapy:

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.

Research supports this link between emotional pain and appearance-based coping. 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).

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

But here’s the truth:

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.

From a psychological perspective, this is known as a maladaptive coping strategy—a behavior that provides short-term relief while masking deeper pain. In these moments, external change can feel easier than confronting internal wounds. But the relief is often temporary, and the core wound remains (Compas et al., 2001).

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

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. That’s why I now help them pause, tune in, and ask:

• 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?

The irony is, my hair used to be one of the most beautiful things about me. People would ask if it was a wig or extensions because it was so long, thick, and shiny. And I damaged it—unknowingly, in my search for love and belonging.

But I’ve healed.

And that’s why I can share this story now—not from a place of shame, but from clarity. From growth. From forgiveness—of others, and of myself.

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.

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 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.

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.