"Wow!  You have pink hair!" 

"Is your pink hair real or fake?"

"You must be a rebel."

"Are you an artist?" 

These are some of the words people say to me about my hair.  A year ago, I dyed a small strip of my hair pink--scorching hot bubble gum pink--for Pink October.  I followed a prodding impulse to find a way to show that I am a member of the pink tribe.  I am a breast cancer survivor.  

Since I'd lost my hair during chemo, coloring a bit of it pink made sense to me.  I thought it might open the door to conversation and awareness, opportunities to remind other women about breast health.  

It's not enough pink hair to start a rebellion.

When October passed and it was time to lose the pink, I couldn't do it.  I stayed pink for Christmas, for my last writing residency in January of 2013 in Oregon, and now I own it.    

I get some strange looks.  The pink's become so much a part of me that I sometimes forget it's there.  One time a school teacher told me that children are not allowed to wear any unusual hair color during the school year.  I told her that it's a sad world when children aren't permitted to express themselves.  Smirk.  

Pink attitude for artists and rebels and everyone in the tribe.