Last year, on International Alopecia Day, Rebecca shared her alopecia story with her work colleagues in the Police Force. For International Alopecia Day 2026, Rebecca asked us to share that same story with the alopecia community and we were pleased to accept.

The first Saturday of August marks International Alopecia Day. Did you even know there was one?  Well, in recognition of it and as a fairly senior female leader in this organisation who has finally embraced my baldness and won the war against alopecia, I feel compelled and privileged to raise awareness about this auto-immune disease, to remove the embarrassment and taboo of female baldness and to empower women like myself to become liberated and embrace their alopecia.

We thrive on evidence and data in policing and statistics show that 1 in 3 women will experience hair loss at some point in their lives. 1 in 3!! In an organisation where 48% of the workforce are female this means that around 1,660 female colleagues will suffer hair loss at some point in their lives; maybe as a result of pregnancy, the menopause, treatment or alopecia.  Think about it; potentially 1,660 women, but whilst I have worked for the Force for 22 years and in policing and community safety for 33 years, I have only seen one bald woman, and that’s the person looking back at me in the mirror.

Where is the army of bald ladies if the statistics are right?  You see plenty of bald men, but rarely bald women.  Ask anyone to name a bald female celebrity and I bet you, nine times out of ten they will say Gail Porter.  She has now I think become more synonymous and famous for being bald, than she ever was in her TV career.  Good on her for putting her proud bald head above the parapet.

It has taken me more than 25 years to fully embrace my condition and over those 25 years I have become an expert on alopecia, having experienced all different types from alopecia areata (small patches of hair-loss) to alopecia totalis (loss of hair on the head) and then finally alopecia universalis (loss of all body hair). I’ve tried topical treatments, pills, scalp concealer, laser treatment, wigs that you take off, hair systems (wigs) that stay on, (failed) SMP and have had micro-bladed eyebrows.  A bit like the grieving process, I’ve gone through all the different emotions of denial (mainly other people saying things were not that bad, when they were) despair, anger, sadness and finally acceptance.  It’s been one roller-coaster of a ride, but it’s not all been bad.  There have been some funny moments throughout, but most importantly I’ve come to realise, that whilst alopecia has certainly not been my friend as it has treated me cruelly, it is not my enemy either. It has in fact helped shape me into the person that I am.

When I first noticed those small shiny patches of hair loss in my 20s it devastated me, but I soon learned I just had to get on with things.  Worrying (which is inevitable) was likely to make things worse as hair loss thrives on anxiety.  The patches would come and go and that’s how it continued for 15 years.  In the back of my mind though I had a sense of foreboding.  My Grandma and Auntie had both lost all of the hair on their heads and wore wigs.  Two generations of bald women in the family with alopecia totalis; the odds did not look good for me…

In 2015 the inevitable happened and my hair started to rapidly fall out.  It was in my brush, on the pillow, in the shower, in fact everywhere other than on my head.  It was all I could think about and all I could focus on. I entered a dark place, saved only by my amazing son Max who at the tender age of 11 became my rock.  He made me face the fact that whilst I could not control what was happening to me, I could control my response.  My family and friends were the same, reminding me (though it was easy for them to say), that I was the same person with or without hair.  To be fair neither the dog or cats cared if I fed them with or without hair.

Enter the wig…..What a surreal moment that was when I finally decided I had to wear a wig, such was the embarrassment I felt about being bald.  The wig was a double-edged sword as whilst I hated wearing it, my desire to ‘look normal and feminine’ and to not draw attention to myself top trumped the dislike and discomfort I felt wearing it.  To the outside world I looked normal, but inside I felt far from that.

When I entered Headquarters on 6 January 2016 wearing the wig for the first time, I thought it would be obvious to all.  That Christmas my hair had looked thin, wiry, patchy and unhealthy, but after two weeks leave I returned with a full head of hair that looked pretty bouffant!  How wouldn’t people notice?  I work with police officers and senior police officers at that, and their whole ‘raison-d’etre’ is to notice things.  I have learned from this whole experience though that the observational skills of humans is abysmal and if you say something with absolute confidence you will be believed.  Every time I changed my wig over my three hair loss experiences (five times) or went from longer hair (the wig) to a short pixie crop (when my hair grew back and I ditched the wig), I would act confidently even though I felt far from it.  I describe it as my ‘Stealing a Mattress’ moments as it all felt so implausible.  Who would think that someone in broad daylight could walk into a bed shop, put a mattress under their arm and walk out?  Who would challenge them?  To pull something off that big you need to be confident, look people in the eye and speak with conviction and that’s what I did; my own steal a mattress moments.  And of course why would anyone think I was wearing a wig?  I mean, it's not anyone's first thought to think someone is wearing a wig!

In December 2016, I won my battle against alopecia and my hair grew back.  I was elated and I felt different to my ancestors.  But if anyone has seen the film Final Destination, alopecia, like death, does not like to be cheated.  Anyone who has seen that film knows that the characters who should have died on that plane in quickly executed deaths, then had very nasty, bloody deaths, as death took its revenge and served it cold.  And alopecia felt the same, it decided to come back with a vengeance and took not only the hair on my head but also my eyebrows and eyelashes and, trust me, that has a massive impact on the look of your face!

My second battle coincided with Covid and that brought even more challenges, especially when the hairdressers shut.  You might think that as I was wearing a wig this would not have bothered me, but it absolutely did.  Whilst everyone else was trying to make their hair look better, I was trying to make my wig look worse and longer (not easy) in order to blend in!  I thought I had been found out by the then ACC Hankinson, who asked how I was keeping my hair tidy. I worried she thought I was breaking Covid rules and a Professional Standards investigation would then reveal my ‘dirty secret’.  But in a nano second I told her I’d got some hair straighteners for Christmas and they were keeping my hair tidy.  She has since told me that it was genuine interest and went on to recommend my straighteners to another female senior leader, whose hair was a little unkempt!

The most un-nerving thing about alopecia is its unpredictability.  Like a bad martini, it can happen any time, any place and anywhere.  The third time I lost all my hair, I knew this was a case of ‘three strikes and you are out’.  As I had now accepted that this would be a condition that I had all my life, gradually my mindset started to change and over a nine month period I did three things.  The first was to buy a wig I really wanted, and not what alopecia dictated.  During my two previous hair loss experiences, all I wanted to do was blend in and so rather than maximising all the benefits of a wig, which is to go for the colour and style I wanted, I chose wigs that were close to my hairstyle of the time.  For hair loss three though, I became brave and took a huge risk and chose a wig that I really liked. I thought it impossible that I would get away with it, but in a super super king size mattress moment, most people accepted what I told them.  The second thing I did, was to tell work colleagues who I either wanted to know, or who I thought needed to know, that I suffered from alopecia on the basis that I had now decided that the third thing I wanted to do in time, to finally win this war, was to fully come out.  So, in all bar my professional life I ditched the wig, whether this was going to the pub, supermarket, restaurants, dog walks or holidays and gradually I started to feel at ease.

It was awkward at first, as people (in particular children) would stare, but I would stare back!  I didn’t blame the children for staring, as they were just responding to something that is unusual to see.  And it would make me laugh a little when a parent would hastily try and shut their child up when they asked the obvious question “Mummy, why has that lady got no hair?”.  They never hung around long enough for me to hear the answer!  It was awkward for me too, as I knew that the default assumption when people see a bald woman is to think they are ill.  So, when I saw a fellow dog walker, or an acquaintance I would greet them with the words I inherently dislike to put them at ease; “Don’t worry, I am not ill, I just suffer from alopecia and I sometimes lose my hair”.  I was cross with myself for using these words, trivialising nine years of torment and stress in five words “I just suffer from alopecia”.

Following a six month secondment where I sometimes wore the wig and sometimes didn’t (very confusing for those I hadn’t told about my condition), I returned to the Force and decided that I would be returning bald (or ‘naked’ as I call it).  It was the final hold alopecia had on me, and I knew that embracing my baldness was the last move I had to play on the chess board to finally beat alopecia and take away its control.  It was scary, it was stressful, but in a strange way it was also exciting, as a new chapter in my life was dawning. 

My liberation day was 21 October 2024.  On a superficial level, I knew all I had to do was walk into the office bald.  But there was so much more at stake than that, as this marked the most significant and poignant part of my journey, as it truly was the beginning of the end.

One of the things that had concerned me about ‘coming out’ was explanation fatigue as I thought people would be bound to ask me if I was okay, given the default assumptions about bald women.  But amazingly, very few people did and that un-nerved me.   I knew this was an awkward situation all round, but I also knew that speculation, gossip and rumour were likely spreading, especially as I had apparently ‘been on a secondment’ and therefore I decided to address it full on.

Three weeks after coming back to Force I did a speech to senior leaders at the Force Accountability Meeting.  Whilst it was a speech that was born out of three weeks of awkwardness it was in fact nine years in the making.  It was about me ending my battle once and for all and winning this war.  It was about starting conversations, raising awareness and hopefully inspiring other women who were struggling, to feel okay about being bald, or okay about wearing a wig.  And I finished with this “Wouldn’t it be amazing if it was as unremarkable to see a bald woman in this organisation as it is to see a bald man?” For all those considering it, I have been met with nothing but positive responses and support.

I’ve written this article as I know there will be others before me and since me who will experience the same battle; one fought with embarrassment and therefore in silence.  I believe the statistics, as at least a third of those who have spoken to me about alopecia know someone; their Mum, daughter, sister, sister-in-law or friend who have also lost some or all of their hair.  Part of winning my battle is to talk openly about it, to raise awareness and to hopefully inspire others to do the same and that’s why I have also written a book, “Baldlilocks and the three Bare Heads; Losing the Battle but Winning the War”, which I hope to get published. 

But to end this article I’ll finish with the final words of the inspirational Rob Burrow, as they certainly resonated with me. He said “My final message to you is whatever your personal battle, be brave and face it.  In a world full of adversity we must dare to dream”.

At the beginning of my journey, I dared to dream that I would beat alopecia and my hair would grow back. I thought that accepting alopecia meant accepting defeat. The victory, though I never could have imagined, believed or dreamed it, was in fact accepting alopecia as being part of me and being openly bald and happy with my lot.