Check out our latest Lady Wrap Star, Molly! For pictures of Molly’s wrapping evolution, just scroll down and take a look!

Hi! Can you tell us a bit about yourself?  Some interesting facts, where you’re from,
how you spend your time, hobbies, etc.?

I’m a professor at University of Maryland Baltimore County here in Baltimore, and I love my job! I teach Ancient Greek, Latin, and courses in the cultural history of the ancient Mediterranean, then I also research the professional lives of Roman physicians (many of whom were immigrant non-citizens) and the
contributions of African thinkers to ancient medical science. My students are my pride and joy; they’re dynamic and bright and hopeful – they’ve taught me so much about bravery and
resilience over the past few years.

I’m from West Virginia originally, and I’ve been married to my husband, who was also my high
school bestie, for 19 years. We have a son in kindergarten who aspires to run a dinosaur farm
and three cats who are in charge of us. I play recorder with a few local chamber ensembles and
spin, weave, and knit with historical tools. I didn’t see a stoplight until I was 3, and my first
memory is watching a radio telescope from my backyard in Greenbank. My favorite way to
unwind is to use text-to-speech software to read books to me while I make things with wool. I’m
trying to get out of the house more, though – this summer I’m co-teaching a course in
experimental archaeology (how to reverse engineer lost trade skills from the past) and will be
foraging, gardening, and trying to make clay pots from scratch.

I like old stuff, as you’ve probably already figured out.

What led you to start covering your hair with tichels and when did you start doing so?
-How did you feel about it when you first started?
-How do you feel about it now?
-Can you share a memorable hair-covering moment?
-How did you find Wrapunzel?

I always wanted to cover, but I couldn’t tell you exactly why. It sits somewhere between meeting
a physical need for comfort and security and a spiritual need to pray with my clothing choices.
I have a memory from high school that’s been very much on my mind this past year of full-time
wrapping, and I think it explains why it took me so long to decide to cover my hair full-time – 30
years! One day at the fabric store, I got the idea to buy a bunch of cute fabrics and make some
kerchiefs, then I wore my favorite green gingham wrap to school. They told me to take it off
because it was a dress code violation and a gang symbol! What self-respecting gang wears
gingham? I’d really like to meet them and ask. But, although I knew that Christian women
traditionally covered their hair, my church didn’t encourage it, my family didn’t practice it, and so
I had no way to claim it was a religious exception to the dress code.

I was mortified to be in trouble for something so utterly benign, but that sort of thing happens to
me a lot. I now know that I’m autistic, which meant that things I found natural and harmless were
often treated as embarrassing and wrong. I faced a lot of rejection for being myself on a day-to-
day basis, and this taught me to ignore what my body and soul wanted in order to make other
people happy. It taught me that I had to change parts of myself to be lovable. It was the wrong lesson, and I’m so happy that younger autistic women are gaining the acceptance that wasn’t
available to me as a teen.

But in college, I had more freedom to make my first adult choices, and that’s when I tried again.
I also became Catholic, which is a Christian tradition that encourages you to use actions, dress
choices, and physical objects to pursue a relationship with God. I had just begun to experience
the chronic headaches I live with, and I needed a way to feel like I was safe and acceptable in
my own body. Wearing a cover helped me to heal my relationship with my body and come to
terms with God not answering my prayers for healing. It felt like a way of saying my body is
good, I’m thankful for it, and I will take care of it because it’s holy even if it’s not perfect. One
time, my Greek Orthodox friend and I were in the mall, and a group of women asked us if we
were Amish. It was funny! But it also impressed on me that we looked visibly religious and odd,
and I was still afraid it would cost me acceptance in my adult life.

After college I wanted to go to grad school and become a professor, but to do that, I would have
to have supportive peers and colleagues willing to hire me. I felt like I had to pick and choose
which parts of myself I could keep, and which I had to hide. On my first day of grad school, I
wasn’t wearing my kerchief. When I went looking for a job, I cut my hip-length hair, parted it to
the side, and tried to dress like all the other academic women. I spent hours reading advice
articles for aspiring academics, watching “What Not to Wear,” and poking around department
stores for a look I called my “professor costume.” It took me a decade and seven different jobs
in seven different states to finally get a permanent job; that’s actually a good outcome in my line
of work!

Life kept happening, and after my son was born, I started revisiting the ways that denying my
needs had cost me a sense of peace and wholeness. I saw my young adult students dressing to
please themselves and openly discussing their neurodivergence, and they were so much more
grounded and empowered than I had been at their age. I became more aware of the ways
autism presents in women and, eventually, a diagnostician concluded I meet the criteria for
autism level 1. The word for why I hadn’t worn a headscarf is called “masking,” and doing it had
been slowly killing my soul. I had been using my clothing and hair to beg people to accept me,
and it had only made me feel that my real self was unacceptable.

I found I couldn’t act day after day like how God made me is wrong without harming myself. And
I felt more secure about my job and my community than I ever had before. It was the right time
to try again.

Here began the part-time covering; kerchiefs on some days, and every now and then I’d have
my hair out to throw people off the scent. Then, as Lent 2024 approached, I decided it was time
to test the waters. Wrapunzel had been on my radar for a while because a Facebook friend
wears tichels and I quietly bookmarked the blog as soon as I saw it about a decade ago. I didn’t
feel ready for a whole shaper (eek! A pouf!), but I dipped my toes in the water with some
inexpensive pre-ties. And then, I decided to try wrapping for Lent. 40 days – I couldn’t destroy
my whole social life in 40 days, surely? Hopefully,my student evaluations wouldn’t take a
sudden dive because my students felt I looked too eccentric or religious.

It was fine, actually! I was right to trust my community, and I was right to trust what my body and
soul needed. My days now started with a choice of beautiful fabrics and the ritual of wrapping
my head until I felt pretty and secure. I walked into my classroom with a light head-hug
reminding me that God loves me and made me on purpose, and I am here right now to serve the other people He made. I felt self-conscious as the only person in most rooms with a head
covering, but I didn’t feel like I was hiding from the possibility of rejection. It really does make a
difference!

Wrapunzel’s community became a valued source of affirmation and validation as 40 days turned
into a whole year. I had wise, kind people willing to give advice and encouragement that didn’t
feel at all judgmental or unsafe. That is so rare! Connecting with other people with very different
lived experiences over a shared love of artistic expression was exactly what I needed. It’s
turned a solitary practice into a source of community and learning. My favorite posts are the
ones where people discuss their reasons for wrapping and I get to see the true range of what
the same practice means to different people.

Seeing is believing, so here is a year in review, starting with one of the last pictures of me
before I decided to wear a tichel.

The ‘professor costume’ in its final days. Funky asymmetrical bob, fit and flare dress, jaunty ribbon. I thought at the time this was a pretty good picture of me.

Already things are looking up. It’s just another kerchief with barettes, but that stupid long dangle of hair is out of my nostril!

Ah yes, here we are trying to do a bun wrap without a bun or a shaper and feeling like we might have a defective skull. But I already look happier; this might be my first head hug.

My first go-to tichel! Rainbow threaded Green Israeli tichel. I was struggling to get the long tails/ tucked back look with a DIY shaper. I was so sure I could craft my way to victory.

Our heroine’s boss is about to see her in a tichel for the first time. She looks nervous, but it’ll be fine.

Here I am on the Athenian Akropolis with a bunch of students! The older donors were mildly curious about the scarves but satisfied with the ‘hair jail’ explanation. It’s windy in Greece. I broke down and saved up for a Cloud 9, and it changed my life.

The marigold crossroads and I meet for the first time! I had thought that rectangular scarves weren’t for me. Marigold had other plans.

This ended up replacing my older headshots when I give talks and workshops. That was the first day the wrap I’d go on to call “lunatic fringe” makes an appearance. I’m still delighted and floored that other people want to imitate it! Middle School Molly would be shocked anyone would dress like her.

It’s a mediocre tichel. Not bad, but not what I imagined. Just fine! And seeing the ‘good enough’ wraps is important because at a certain point, good enough is perfect!

I had worn tichels to teach, give speeches, meet with various campus administrators. It was time to face the final boss: Baltimore Outdoor Summer! Friends, life without hair on your neck is very sweet, and you can see how gleeful I am about it.

This was a bad tichel day! I wanted a tidy twist crown with tucked ends. I got a pouffy, slithery eldritch horror trying to make me look like an Italian renaissance painting about lazy nobles and their bad turbans. All I need is a derpy pet ermine. I never did get this one to work.

When I got my first Wendy, I put her on, freaked out, then put her away. I’d take her out every few days but couldn’t get her to work for me. One last try, Wendy. Wendy delivered! We’re inseparable now.

Here I am about to go to a meeting with my university leadership, including the president! I am dressed like an enchanted forest peasant, and very happy about it. People still treated me like a smart professional with important things to say, then chatted with me on the way back to the parking lot.

Stay tuned for part 2, where I talk a little more about my artistic process, tips, tricks, and general life advice.