DumplingDudez

I stopped dyeing my hair two weeks ago when I turned 46.

And I'll be honest—it's been a little uncomfortable.

For years, coloring my hair and beard was just what I did.

It helped me look younger, feel younger, maybe even hold onto a version of myself that felt familiar.

But lately, I've been trying something different.

Not fighting my age. Not hiding it. Just owning it.

Every gray hair tells a story.

The immigrant kid who arrived in America at 15. The engineer. The marketing director. The entrepreneur who left a stable career to build something of his own. The husband.

The person still learning, growing, and reinventing himself.

I'm not saying I'll never dye it again.

But for now, this feels like another step in choosing authenticity over perfection.

Because maybe confidence isn't about looking younger.

Maybe it's about being proud of the life that got you here.

At 46, I'm still becoming.

And that's pretty exciting

We can hold hands here.

In Portland, my husband and I move through the city — and our lives — without the quiet fear we carried in Texas.

The fear of being judged, targeted, hurt, shot , or having to think twice about simply being ourselves.

That sense of safety is a privilege.
Not just in public, but in everyday moments.

It’s the freedom to put a photo of your spouse on your desk without worrying how it will be perceived.

To talk about your weekend without editing pronouns.

To live openly without calculating the cost.

That’s what real inclusion looks like.

Not special treatment — just the ability to exist without hiding.

I’m deeply grateful for spaces, cities, and workplaces where authenticity doesn’t feel risky —
and hopeful for a future where everyone gets that same freedom.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Chih

Photo by Photography by Melissa Saliski

The goal was never to prove the people who rejected me wrong.

The goal was to love myself enough that their rejection no longer defined me.

Chih