Balding and The Plight of Male Body Positivity
Weighing personal choice versus industry-driven stigmas of the missing hairline.
Body positivity is often discussed in relation to women, as it’s readily apparent they’re held to a different standard than men. But that doesn’t mean men don’t go through struggles as well. And few are more universal than hair loss.
The media, cultural norms, and stereotypes contribute to these pressures. And the problem is that, for men, balding is a Catch-22. It pits our insecurities against unfair societal expectations. We are expected to be tough and not let anything bother us. But when something does, we are expected to just bite down and take it.
So what do we do when we hate our receding hairline?
My own journey to understanding
I stood in front of the mirror, pulling my hair back, grimacing, and looking like I was in a Rogaine commercial. I’d just turned 19 and realized in horror that my hairline was receding. I looked at it from different angles, trying to make sure I was seeing it correctly.
“This can’t be,” I thought. Mom had always told me, “Your grandfather kept all his hair. You won’t lose it.”
She conveniently ignored that my other grandfather was completely bald by age 35. It was becoming quite evident whose genes were winning.
I went into a slight panic and shaved my head despite having only a mild recession at that point. Only a few years earlier, I’d seen my buddy Jared being roasted by classmates for losing his hair. I’d forgotten that teenagers bully anyone over any minor thing — but that didn’t mean their feedback was objective science on someone’s value.
That night, I wanted to get my mind off of things, so I sat down on my parent’s couch and put on the TV. There was a marathon of old-school National Geographic documentaries —those gritty, and unfiltered stories of lions chasing zebras all day.
On the screen, a majestic lion sauntered confidently across a field towards a new pack of females who had no alpha. His huge and beautiful physique filled up the entire screen. His mane was a giant black coat of fur around his neck. It made him look like an emperor.
The narrator, in his deep, soothing, godlike voice said, “Female lions are attracted to thick, darker manes on males. Thick hair is a sign of fertility and strength. Patchy manes are a sign of potential sickness and weakness.”
I fumbled around for the remote, feeling like the universe was trying to punk me and rub my face into my new problem.
Contending with this new dilemma
For a man, losing your hair can feel like the loss of your youth, like your vitality is draining from your body. Your first realization of hair loss can be a dire moment. You can end up questioning if you’ll ever be attractive or desirable. Which is silly because the balding gene has had no trouble propagating thus far.
In my case, I knew I didn’t want to lose my hair. When I shaved my head, I didn’t see a sleek Vin Diesel looking back at me. All I felt were waves of insecurity.
But I didn’t want to try any herbal treatments or pseudoscience remedies. There’s a huge, weird industry for people who are afraid to see doctors and — spoiler alert — the products are often rip offs. I’m a fan of committing to solving a problem rather than dancing around it.
I went and saw a medical doctor, and he put me on a prescription for Propecia (finasteride) which had only been out for a few years at this point (this was the early 2000s). Drug researchers discovered the drug inadvertently while developing a medication to treat enlarged prostates. There was a pair of twins in the trial, who were in their late 20s and had aggressive hair loss. Researchers noticed the non-placebo twin’s hair stopped falling out, and even began growing back thicker.
The drug works by blocking the hormone that causes hair loss in men, dihydrotestosterone (DHT), which slowly thins out hair follicles over time, until they go away completely.
The catch is — if you stop taking Propecia, you can lose all of the results within six months. After starting, I didn’t immediately notice a huge change. But the front of my hairline inched forward a very tiny bit, because the drug can save smaller hairs, allowing them to grow back fully.
Twenty years later, I still take it and my hair has still stayed the same and I’m thrilled. I considered showing a before-after, but realized this article would seem like a commercial for hair loss products, which is — in part — the opposite of my intent.
People often chant to love your body as it is, and I think that’s a great message. I encourage it. But self-love isn’t the same journey for everybody, nor is it as simple as just accepting how you look.
For me, I didn’t like the way my shaved head looked. I like having hair. It’s as simple as that. So I took steps to address it. And I don’t think anyone should be shamed for that, just as they shouldn’t be shamed for being bald or even for having cosmetic surgery. I say let people do with their bodies as they choose. If these decisions make them happy? So be it.
Now, if you get cosmetic surgery and then sell your anti-aging cream to millions of Instagram followers, under the assumption that you’re natural? That’s a different story.
I’ve never written about hair loss publicly, because it’s a subject I still feel pangs of insecurity over. Why? Because hair loss is a Catch-22 for men. If you dare do anything to stop hair loss — you’ll be roasted endlessly. Conversely, if you dare lose your hair or, god forbid, lose it while you’re young, you’ll inevitably get jokes in your direction too.
And to those who are dreading losing their hair, or already have, fear not. Balding men have thrived from the beginning of our species and still do. Historically, hair loss was treated neutrally and just as a part of everyday life. In 2019, an Egyptology professor, Samal Kamal, found evidence of 122 bald men painted in several ancient Egyptian Tombs, circa 2613 to 525 BC. The men were depicted at all levels of society, in leadership, business, and adored by women.
The stigma around balding is largely a product of 20th century advertising, which did a great job of turning non-problems into realized ones for consumers across all demographics. For example, one study showed that only 8% of images of male models in magazine showed signs of balding, despite many being well into middle age.
The anti-balding commercials were the real devil. They routinely showed attractive models with full heads of hair, beaming charismatic and proportional smiles as they walked on the beach with beautiful young women. Then, they contrasted this with a sad and out-of-shape man who is alone in the bathroom, staring with disapproval in the mirror — just like I did.
The reality is that, out there in the real world, where the birds fly and the sun shines, that same sad bald guy you saw on TV, is often walking on the beach with a woman and both are just as happy as any other person.
Men who grew up in “guy’s guy” households like me were wired to be tough and not voice complaints, and not be vulnerable to superficial concerns like hair loss. But I know it grates at many of you. No matter what you do, just remember it really is a superficial issue at the end of the day.
Bald men around the world are having no trouble finding success and life partners. If you want to do something about your hair loss, consult a doctor as I did. There are more options than ever and reliable ones at that. There is no shame in solving something that bothers you. Personal choice is a beautiful thing.
Either way, don’t fret. With time, mistakes, and patience, I realized that women generally care more about what is in your heart and mind, than what is on your head.
I'm a former financial analyst turned writer out of Tampa, Florida. I write story-driven content to help us live better and maximize our potential.