«On the job they told me to wear a wig». How a Belarusian woman lives with alopecia since childhood
Katsiaryna Frantsuzava is 44 years old, and 43 of those years she has lived with alopecia. She barely remembers how it happened, but remembers everything else: how her mother cried at doctors' offices, how she was shamed for wearing a headscarf as a child, how she wore a wig and was afraid to turn the wrong way so it wouldn't fall off. At 20, she got tired of hiding. And life took a different turn.
Now Katya is a tattoo artist who covers other people's scars, and a rare specialist in trichopigmentation. She draws hair for those who don't have it. What difficulties do people with alopecia face and how not to lose yourself when you are "not like everyone else," writes "Minskaya Prauda".
— Katya, how did it all start?
— I was only one year old, so I don't remember that time well. But according to my mother's stories, it all started when I got sick and developed a fever. A couple of days later, hair started falling out on the pillow. Within just two weeks, all my hair fell out completely.
— Did they try to treat you, or look for the reasons behind what happened?
— Of course. But those were the eighties. Back then, no one knew what alopecia was. For me, it was quite a painful experience because I went to many doctors. They rubbed everything from onions and salt to something incomprehensible into my head. Internally, I felt like an absolutely healthy child, but everything that happened around me suggested that something was wrong with me, that it needed to be treated, hidden. And I felt uncomfortable. There were medicines, and pills, and injections. But nothing helped.
My family always supported me. My mother was very worried. I often saw her crying at the doctors.
— And how did your peers at school react?
— In kindergarten, school, and other educational institutions, I was never bullied. But outside of my academic groups, the attitude was different. I was called names and could even be pushed.
I wore a headscarf and therefore attracted attention. At 11, I went for a health trip to Germany, and there I was given a good wig.
In it, I looked like a normal child, a cute girl. But at that very moment, the fear arose that someone would find out I was wearing a wig. For me, that would have been the end of the world! And I constantly controlled my body: how to turn, how to tilt my head so that the wig wouldn't slip. It was endless tension. My posture even changed.
Over time, children began to notice that my haircut never changed, and here another problem started — too much attention towards me. Why doesn't Katya cut her hair? Why doesn't Katya change her hairstyle?
At twenty, out of helplessness, I decided that I no longer wanted this. I asked my mom to knit me a hat and came to class wearing it. I didn't explain anything to anyone. And at that moment, I felt lighter. No one asked me anything, everyone left me alone. I suppose those around me thought I was sick with something. But that completely satisfied me.
— What's the saddest story that you still find hard to recall?
— I remember, when I was in music school, I sang in the choir and we were preparing for a big performance. A teacher came to class and said that all the children would go to film for television except me. Because I wore a headscarf and would visually stand out. And then another teacher added: "But Katya has a wig, let her put it on!" And I went to perform in a wig. It wasn't the German wig I was given, but a wig that terribly squeezed my head. I recall that situation, and it still hurts me, because adults, of course, shouldn't act that way. Back then, I was a helpless child; I couldn't decide anything.
In adult life, the situation repeated itself. I worked as an artist at corporate events, and my employer said that I couldn't go to events wearing a hat. I absolutely had to wear a wig, because people want to see a normal person. And at that moment, I gave in. I remember working the corporate event in a terrible state. My temperature rose, my body resisted, and I made a promise to myself that I would never betray myself again.
— And there must have been funny stories too, right?
— Once we were sitting with girls who also had alopecia, in a cafe in St. Petersburg, sharing stories. Everyone who wears a wig has this wild fear that it will fly off at some inopportune moment. And one girl told how she was on a date at an amusement park. Her boyfriend didn't know she wore a wig. And then — a wild turn and the wig flies off. She tells this story and stops, a silent scene ensues… It seemed like a terrible situation in our case, but we started to burst out laughing…
At that moment, I realized that our fear had turned into a joke, that I could, in principle, joke about it. And it became easier.
— Are there many people with alopecia among your acquaintances?
— At one point, there were many of them.
That was such an active period of my life when the world divided into "bald" and "hairy." Later, my world came back together, and now I perceive people regardless of whether they have hair or not.
— And what ultimately helped you accept yourself?
— At twenty-seven, I entered university in the psychology department. I successfully completed it and decided to continue my education through practical training. And while I was studying, personal and group therapy came into my life. And from that moment, life began to change.
It took me approximately six years to "breathe freely."
And with each year, I feel freer and freer. Now I am a completely different person. And the past no longer affects my present.
At some point, I realized that there was nothing wrong with me. I am a beautiful woman. And that was also a kind of shock, because my whole life I had considered myself flawed. I had somehow adapted to it, but I didn't have the skills for a new life — as a normal person.
Now I am an artistic tattoo master. People with special cases come to me — I cover scars, keloids. I am happy that my work is beneficial, and in this, I see my mission.
Also, a niche area that is currently relevant for me is trichopigmentation. It is suitable for people who have experienced hair loss. It is a delicate, precise technique of applying pigment under the scalp, which visually creates the effect of hair growth.
I am a rare specialist in this field, and for me, it's not just a job. Thanks to this procedure, I realize that my past ceases to be a terrible secret and becomes my professional advantage. I myself live with alopecia. I know what people without hair feel. And I can speak the same language with my clients.
I have something to discuss, something to tell, something to share, and I can offer support.
— Do people in public places pay attention to you?
— I can calmly and without internal discomfort change clothes in the gym, in the swimming pool. But I don't feel the need to reveal myself on the street, to walk without headwear. The sun shines on the street, one could get sunburned. In general, it seems to me that people don't even notice me.
I know young girls with alopecia who boldly walk around the city. I look and think: cool!
— What would you say to someone who looks in the mirror and is unhappy with what they see?
— The first thing to understand is: alopecia is not a problem. It's not a disease; it's a visual feature. You need to realize that you are not your hair. You are a complete person regardless of the presence or absence of hair. It's important to remove any external criticism from your life. If someone judges your appearance or offers unsolicited advice, doubt their righteousness, believe only in yourself. And if alopecia hinders your quality of life, find a good psychologist. And this is not about weakness, but about a way to restore the quality of your life.
— What are the pros and cons of living with alopecia?
— As for the pros… I don't have hair at home, and I appreciate that (laughs). I also don't have to spend money on shampoo and hairdressers. And the cons… Probably the fact that my head is always cool. And sometimes there's intense attention from others. I might feel insecure at that moment. But that's rare. Life is wonderful and amazing! My friends, by the way, love to kiss my head or stroke it. I like that (smiles).