The Journey of Becoming

Breaking Things, Offending People, Collateral Damage, And Gratitude

This story is part of a larger series exploring identity, restoration, and the journey of becoming. Explore the Blueprint to Becoming series →

When Becoming First Shows on the Outside

The reflection looking back at me was different.

Gone were the long, permed, highlighted blonde locks—replaced with a short, red, asymmetrical bob.

Looking back, I don’t remember what prompted such a drastic change. It was the fall of 1988, and I was beginning my second year of fashion school. Something inside me shifted, quietly but firmly.

After calling several salons, I finally found one that could see me that day. I remember walking in and saying, without hesitation, “Take it off.”

That evening, my husband came home to what felt like a new woman—and he was not happy. Dinner simmered on the stove. I sat on the sofa watching my three-year-old daughter play when he walked in from work. His first words were sharp:“Did you cut your hair off!?”

“I didn’t,” I replied.

He never liked my red hair—ever. Even eleven years later, when we were divorced, he still hated it. Looking back now, I don’t think it was ever really about the hair. It was about what the hair represented.

I was changing. Or maybe—I was becoming.

Why Becoming Is Rarely Quiet or Convenient

Every woman should become. And we all would—if it were easier.

But becoming isn’t gentle. Things and people get in the way, and often, we let them.

Becoming looks less like a graceful transition and more like a bull running through a china shop. It’s loud. It’s disruptive. And yes—things break, and people get hurt. Those watching from outside the shop usually have opinions. They take offense. They take your changes personally.

Change feels threatening to those who benefit from you staying the same.

The Journey of Becoming Is Messy—Just Like Birth

I often think about childbirth when I reflect on becoming. Giving birth was messy, painful, and at times downright gross. There were things I experienced before and after birth that no one glamorizes.

But the outcome?

A beautiful child—worth every moment.

Now, years later, I can laugh about some of those experiences. At the time, though, they were anything but funny. The same is true of my own becoming. Today, I can smile. Back then, it was painful, awkward, and deeply uncomfortable.

Transformation always is.

Hair, Identity, and the Moment Red Felt Right

I was born with the darkest black hair, which stayed that way until I was two. Old photos still amaze me—jet black hair paired with light blue eyes. My parents were both dark brunettes with blue eyes. My siblings varied in hair color, but we all shared the same striking blue eyes.

By age four, I was blonde—and I stayed blonde through most of my youth. After twenty-five, my hair darkened, and I highlighted it to hold onto that identity. I had been every natural hair color except one.

Red.

So why red?

I could say it was a rebellion. Or bravery. Or that fashion school had given me confidence. All of that would be true.

But most of all—it felt right.

Red felt like me.

I’ve joked over the years that God made me every natural hair color except the right one. Red.

Deciding Is Not the Same as Doing

Deciding and doing are two separate acts in the journey of becoming.

You can decide and never act. Or you can decide—and move.

I once mentioned at dinner that I was thinking about painting a room yellow. By the next day, it was done. Someone else decided to paint their spare bedroom blue—and six months later, they were still staring at paint swatches.

That’s how my hair change happened. I decided that morning. By afternoon, I was short and red.

What surprised me wasn’t the change—it was the reaction.

My mother.

My sisters.

Church friends.

Especially my husband.

It was as if I had slapped them in the face.

When someone changes, it signals dissatisfaction with the status quo. And the unspoken fear is this: What if they’re unhappy with me?

Why Appearance Always Matters More Than We Admit

It’s hard to stretch in a family that holds everything tightly. Decisions become communal. If I don’t need that, why do you?

The truth is, I was suffocating. I just didn’t know it yet.

Registering for college and pursuing fashion shook people—but not nearly as much as changing my hair. If someone tells you appearance doesn’t matter, don’t believe them. Fashion wouldn’t be a global industry if it didn’t.

How we present ourselves reflects how safe we feel, how aligned we are, and whether we believe we are allowed to take up space.

When Beauty Becomes Dangerous

Years later, after graduating, I taught makeover classes for abuse survivors. To my surprise, the same family dynamics kept surfacing. Women experienced resistance, offense, and fear from those closest to them when they began to change.

So it wasn’t just me.

Eventually, I started every class with the same disclaimer: “Beauty is dangerous—this is not for the faint of heart.”

Because becoming yourself disrupts systems built on your silence.

The journey of becoming is about aligning who you are with how you live and express yourself.

Becoming Is a Whole-Woman Experience

Becoming isn’t limited to appearance.

It is:

• A decision prompted by your Spirit

• Executed by your Soul

• Realized through your Body

It takes all of you working together to charge into that china shop and say, “Take it off.”

If you’re like me, you’ve had more than one china shop moment.

Maybe that’s what this story really is—a collection of moments where things broke, people were offended, and collateral damage happened along the way.

But it’s also a story of stretching.

Of chasing becoming.

Of gratitude.

Because on the other side of the mess is a woman I love—and a life that finally fits.