My Life Without Hair

In many ways, Ariah Deming is just like any other fourth-grader. She’s obsessed with the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. She shows off a mouthful of braces when she smiles (which is often). She loves playing with her dogs and taking care of her baby sister.

But there is one thing that makes Ariah [uh- RYE-uh] stand out: She doesn’t have any hair.

Ariah has alopecia areata, a disease that prevents her hair from growing properly. Living with alopecia [al-oh-PEE-shuh] has not been easy. But over time, the 11-year-old from Denver, Colorado, has come to embrace her difference—and even see it as a kind of superpower.

“It makes me feel special, because I’m out of the ordinary,” Ariah explains.

In many ways, Ariah Deming is like other fourth-graders. She loves the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. She shows a mouthful of braces when she smiles (which is often). She likes to play with her dogs. She takes care of her baby sister.

But there is one thing that makes Ariah [uh-RYE-uh] stand out: She doesn’t have any hair.

Ariah has alopecia areata. This disease prevents her hair from growing properly. Living with alopecia [al-oh-PEE-shuh] has not been easy. But the 11-year-old from Colorado has learned to like her difference. Today, she sees it as a kind of superpower.

“It makes me feel special, because I’m out of the ordinary,” she says.

About 6.8 million Americans have alopecia, which shuts down a person’s hair follicles—the tiny holes in the skin from which hair grows. Scientists aren’t entirely sure what causes the condition, but they know it’s partly genetic. Although alopecia can be treated in different ways and sometimes goes away on its own, there is currently no cure.

People with alopecia don’t feel sick at all. But the emotional effects of the disease can be devastating. Ariah has had alopecia ever since she was a baby. “She has been stared at her whole life,” her mom, Tiffini, says. “And people aren’t always kind.” At school, other kids would whisper behind Ariah’s back and make cruel comments. She tried to ignore the bullying. But she admits, “It’s been hard.”

About three years ago, Ariah and her family learned about a Florida-based charity called Locks of Love. The organization provides high-tech wigs called hair prostheses to kids who have lost their hair because of an illness or injury. The prostheses are made with real hair donated by people across the country.

About 6.8 million Americans have alopecia. Scientists aren’t sure what causes the condition, but they know it’s partly genetic. Alopecia can be treated in different ways, and it sometimes goes away on its own. But there is no cure.

People with alopecia don’t feel sick. But they can suffer emotionally. Ariah has had alopecia since she was a baby. “She has been stared at her whole life,” her mom says. “And people aren’t always kind.” At school, other kids would whisper behind Ariah’s back and make cruel comments. She tried to ignore the bullying. But it was hard.

About three years ago, Ariah and her family learned about a charity called Locks of Love. The group makes high-tech wigs called hair prostheses for kids who have lost their hair because of an illness or injury. The prostheses are made with real hair donated by people across the country.

Locks of Love president Madonna Coffman knows how challenging hair loss can be for kids like Ariah and their families: Both she and her daughter have had alopecia. “Kids don’t like to go to school with the wrong jeans or the wrong backpack,” Coffman says. “You can imagine how difficult it is to go to school without hair.” She helped start Locks of Love to bring high-quality hairpieces—which can cost as much as $6,000—to kids whose families can’t afford them.

Unlike regular wigs, Locks of Love prostheses are specially designed and fitted to each child. When Ariah and her family got in touch with the charity, it sent her a special kit to make a mold of her head. The mold would be used to create a snug, skin-colored cap. Nearly 150,000 strands of real hair (about 10 ponytails’ worth) would then be attached to the cap by hand. The painstaking process would take about five months.

To Ariah, the wait was almost unbearable. “I just wanted it so badly!” she says.

Madonna Coffman is the president of Locks of Love. She knows how hard hair loss can be: Both she and her daughter have had alopecia. “Kids don’t like to go to school with the wrong jeans or the wrong backpack,” Coffman says. “You can imagine how difficult it is to go to school without hair.” She helped start Locks of Love to bring high-quality hairpieces (which can cost as much as $6,000) to kids whose families can’t afford them.

Locks of Love prostheses are different from regular wigs: They’re specially designed and fitted to each child. The charity sent Ariah a kit to make a mold of her head. The mold was used to create a snug, skin-colored cap. Nearly 150,000 strands of real hair (about 10 ponytails’ worth) were then attached to the cap by hand. The process took about five months.

Ariah found it hard to wait. “I just wanted it so badly!” she says.

When Ariah’s hairpiece finally arrived in the mail, she eagerly tried it on. The silky, strawberry-blond hair came down to her shoulders, just like she had requested. Ariah was overcome with joy—and relief. “I didn’t even have words,” she says. “I was so excited. I knew I’d be much more comfortable at school.”

Because Locks of Love hairpieces are carefully fitted, kids don’t have to worry that they will fall off during school or activities. “They allow kids to be involved in sports or sleepovers, even riding roller coasters,” Coffman explains. Eventually, she says, “a lot of kids develop so much confidence and self-esteem that they don’t even need to wear the hairpiece anymore.”

When Ariah’s hairpiece came in the mail, she tried it on. The silky, strawberry-blond hair came down to her shoulders, just like she had requested. Ariah was filled with joy—and relief. “I didn’t even have words,” she says. “I was so excited. I knew I’d be much more comfortable at school.”

Because Locks of Love hairpieces are carefully fitted, kids don’t have to worry that they’ll fall off. Wearing them, kids can play sports. They can have sleepovers. They can ride roller coasters. Over time, many kids develop more confidence and self-esteem. Some feel so good about themselves that they stop wearing their hairpiece. They feel fine just the way they are.

That’s exactly what happened to Ariah. Since getting her prosthesis, she’s started going to a new school. She has made a group of close friends. “I just feel more confident,” Ariah says. And so she has stopped wearing the hairpiece to school every day. Having the option to look like other kids has helped her realize that she likes being different.

People still stare at her on the street. But Ariah says that people who are curious about her bare head should just come up and ask her about it. “Ariah is so friendly and patient,” her mom says. “She always takes time to educate anyone who’s willing to listen.”

Today, Ariah saves her hairpiece for special occasions or days when she just feels like blending in. But most of the time, she is happy to stand out. “It’s good to be different from everyone else in the crowd,” she says.

That’s what happened to Ariah. Since getting her prosthesis, she’s started going to a new school. She has made close friends. “I just feel more confident,” she says. And so she has stopped wearing the hairpiece to school every day. Having the option to look like other kids has helped her realize that she likes being different.

People still stare at her on the street. But she says that people who are curious about her bare head can just ask. “Ariah is so friendly and patient,” her mom says. “She always takes time to educate anyone who’s willing to listen.”

Today, Ariah saves her hairpiece for special occasions or days when she just feels like blending in. Most of the time, she is happy to stand out. “It’s good to be different from everyone else in the crowd,” she says.

This article was originally published in the May/June 2019 issue.

This article was originally published in the May/June 2019 issue.