Jochobed’s Heart: Embracing Alopecia with Strength

In the story of Musa and the Pharaoh, the woman who places baby Musa in the basket in the river, his mother, is mentioned as a woman whose heart was strengthened so she could put her baby in the river without any plan ahead. In the Torah, she is referred to as Jochobed, a woman with a strong heart. This fascinated me a lot. I wanted to be a Jochobed too. At night, I prayed to Allah to make me one, but now I realize that I am.

My Story

My story begins as the youngest daughter in a big family. I have four other sisters and two brothers; in a Desi family, this means that once your turn for care comes, your parents are too exhausted and too out of their resources to listen to you. So naturally, you get an elder daughter syndrome despite being the youngest. That was my case. In a nutshell, I was a pale-looking young girl with an amazing brain, a love for romance novels (particularly Zaroon from ZGH), and a dire need to be validated and recognized by my parents. However, things took a drastic turn in my otherwise okay-ish 15 years of life when I developed Alopecia Totalis.

Alopecia Totalis

For my readers, I want to clarify that I am an MBBS student, so all medical-related things quoted here are almost accurate. Alopecia is an autoimmune condition. In simple words, it’s like one sunny day, my body decided to reject itself, particularly anything with hair follicles, and so I started to lose hair from my body. It can result in anything from small bald, coin-like patches on my head, to being totally bald and beautiful on my head or even from the rest of my body. My body, being an over-efficient kind, decided to go all rogue, so I landed somewhere between stage two and three.

The Journey

The journey from being a timid, totally confused, living-in-hiding, 15-year-old semi-bald kid to now a tall, proud, still-afraid though, alopecia writer was not easy. It was made particularly difficult by a society that never allowed anyone who was out of the ordinary to survive, let alone thrive. My family also tried to hide me; in their defense, it was because of my own safety and comfort, and well, it was their first time dealing with an alopecia kid, so I will cut them some slack.

I remember running to my terrace to hide whenever there was Eid, and the guests would come to my home. I would stay there, looking at the night sky filled with stars for hours until they had all left. (Maybe that’s how I have come to love a clear night sky filled with stars.) I remember pushing my friends away in school because, though it was painfully hard, it was still better than them finding out and maybe helping me understand that nothing had changed, and I was still the same Hadi. I remember crying so badly when my maternal uncle came and laughed when he accidentally saw my patchy bald head. I remember when my older sister said, “May Allah give you back your beauty,” and feeling as if I had turned into some ugly creature. I remember when my mother, amidst her own cries, said that this was my fault because I studied too much, making me feel as if it truly was my doing.

Healing

Thinking about all those words of hurt and unacceptance, I felt it might take a lifetime to heal. But that was not the case, for Allah has been very kind. I knew I owed myself an apology for believing in everything others believed for me and for treating myself as a Rapunzel locked away in a faraway tower, only to be rescued by a Prince Charming (except this Rapunzel was bald—what irony). I am still in the process of treating myself right, and I think this will take some good time, but I am proud of how far I have come.

And for those of you who might be wondering, “Isn’t there a cure for this disease?” well, there is. But it involves a lot of trial runs with various medicines. For some people, oils also work, and for the lucky ones, they get their hair back without doing much. Since I am not amongst them, and I’ve decided not to put myself through trials (for now), I am good with being bald. I have finally accepted myself as bald. I am not sure what will happen next, but I am sure I will not wrong myself once again.