This past Sunday was supposed to be like any other ordinary day at church—quiet, contemplative, and filled with a sense of reverence.
However, something happened that completely threw me off balance: I noticed a woman sitting near the front pew with bright pink hair. I was genuinely taken aback. I understand that we live in a world that values and encourages self-expression, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that this seemed out of place in a sacred setting like a church.
In my mind, church has always been a place that embodies modesty and respect, not a space for bold fashion statements.
The preacher began his sermon, but I found it incredibly hard to concentrate. No matter how hard I tried, my attention kept drifting back to that head of neon pink hair. It wasn’t just a gentle, pastel hue either—it was vivid and bold, almost glowing. The kind of color that makes you double-take because it’s just so striking. I grew up during a time when everyone dressed more conservatively for church. Muted tones, understated fashion, and a general simplicity in our clothing were seen as ways to show respect. So, I started questioning myself: is it wrong for me to feel that this vibrant pink hair, especially such an intense shade, was inappropriate for a place of worship?
Once the service ended, I noticed the woman standing outside of the church, casually chatting with a group of people. I hesitated for a bit, unsure if I should approach her. Part of me didn’t want to make things uncomfortable, but I also felt like I needed some kind of answer to my inner conflict. So, I mustered up the courage and walked over to her, doing my best to keep my approach respectful and friendly.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to be as polite as possible, “I couldn’t help but notice your hair. I just wanted to share my thoughts—bright colors like that might not be appropriate for church.”
The moment I spoke, her eyes widened, and I thought for a second that she might offer an apology or even provide some sort of explanation. Instead, her response caught me off guard entirely.
“Well, I don’t think it’s any of your business,” she shot back, her tone sharp. She even offered a smile, but it felt far from friendly. “I come to church to pray, not to be judged on my appearance.”
