Healing with Henna

Artists create alternative option for those experiencing hair loss

STORY BY HANNAH AMUNDSON | PHOTOS COURTESY OF SARAH WALTERS

Sarah Walters provided free henna crowns through her home studio in Kirkland, Washington. An ornate design provides an alternative to wigs and hats for those experiencing hair loss. Photo courtesy of Sarah Walters

I watched a henna artist draw a henna crown on my mother’s bald head. Until now, she hid her scalp by adorning it with various hats and scarves. It was difficult watching clumps of hair fall from her head the day after my 21st birthday, but six months later it was decorated with flowers and patterns circling the entirety of where her hair used to be. This unwanted change in her life became beautiful.

Debbie Amundson felt healthy. But according to her doctor, cancer was spreading within in her body: non-small cell adenocarcinoma, originating from lungs that had never inhaled a cigarette. Two years of radiation and chemotherapy treatment later, the 48-year-old mother of three was completely bald.

Type into Google search: “chemotherapy hair loss options,” and the first three options suggest hiding behind wigs, scarves or hats.

Amundson used those options for a couple months until she found an alternative, lesser-known option — a henna crown to cover the entirety of a chemotherapy patient’s bald head.

HENNA CROWNS

“It’s kind of nice to have a different option,” Sarah Walters, a Kirkland henna artist says about the crowns. “And if you can do something artistic, unique and creative at the same time, I think that’s a beautiful thing.”

Sarah Walters has been providing free henna crowns for four years through her business, SARAHENNA. She estimates she has done 20–30 henna crowns.

During a henna crown appointment, the client is invited into Walters’ home studio. The studio has a warm, peaceful atmosphere with a view into a luscious, green backyard.

Walters mixes a henna paste recipe containing henna, sugar, water and essential oil extracted a couple hours before the appointment. The mix is subjective to each henna artist, but the essential oil is key, since chemotherapy patients can have high skin sensitivity.

Before the henna crown appointment, Walters talks with the client for a few minutes to inspire ideas for the crown. In the past, Walter has incorporated meaningful symbols, motifs, animals and quotes into some of her many henna crowns.

Once they settle on an idea, Walters starts the crown. As she draws the design, the client and Walters talk. Difficult emotions often come up, while tears flow.

“I have no idea what their prognosis looks like, yet, they have a very positive attitude and they’re maybe more joyful than I am,” Walters says. “And it makes me stop and think. ‘Why was I being such a baby earlier because my toast got burned?’ It’s the perspective thing.”

Walters lost her stepdad in 2004 from a rare form of cancer called multiple myeloma. He died six months after his diagnosis at age 53.

His death came years before Walters had considered doing henna, but later influenced her desire to start creating henna crowns on donation basis. Walters wants the crowns to be accessible, and this is her way of giving back.

Two years after Walters started doing crowns, she heard about the non-profit henna crown organization, Henna Heals, through other artists. The organization set up a list of henna artists around the world and connected artists to people who had lost their hair and were interested in crowns. Walters joined the organization.

HENNA HEALS

“[Henna Heals] originally started with the goal of trying to raise awareness of henna crowns,” says Frances Darwin, founder of Henna Heals. “I thought that henna crowns would be a really great way to spread awareness of self-empowerment.”

Darwin, a Toronto-native photographer, established the Henna Heals organization in 2011 after a trip to San Francisco, during which she met a local henna crown artist.

Within two years, various media outlets caught on and covered stories on Henna Heals.

After the media coverage, more artists contacted Henna Heals to join the organization and more crowns were being requested.

Walters was one of the artists that contacted Henna Heals. Another was 18-year-old Camas High School senior, Abby Engel.

ABBY

Around the same time Henna Heals started, Abby Engel was first introduced to henna.

At 13, Engel had always been artistic. One day, she was puffy-painting a shirt and started painting on herself — swirling designs and doodles covering her hand.

Her mother’s friend was visiting that same day and told Engel that those swirling designs strongly resembled henna. They went to Whole Foods, picked up a henna kit and Engel has been drawing henna ever since.

Years later, during her senior year of high school, a friend tagged Engel on Facebook in a 2014 Henna Heals article.

Engel knew she wanted to make a difference in people’s lives, so she joined the organization.

A few months after joining, her first appointment was with a 20-year-old with an autoimmune disease, alopecia, which results in hair loss. Engel drew a unique design incorporating a sun, moon and feathers, with jewelry-like henna twirling around the front of the scalp.

After Engel’s first henna crown appointment, she was featured in Vancouver, Washington, newspaper, The Columbian, and on a Portland broadcasting station, KGW News.

Sarah Walters provided free henna crowns through her home studio in Kirkland, Washington. An intricate ornate design provides an alternative to wigs and hats for those experiencing hair loss. Photo courtesy of Sarah Walters
Sarah Walters provided free henna crowns through her home studio in Kirkland, Washington. An ornate design provides an alternative to wigs and hats for those experiencing hair loss. Photo courtesy of Sarah Walters

CONNECTIONS

One morning, Debbie Amundson picked up The Columbian to see Engel’s henna crowns.

For five months, Amundson had no hair. She never publically announced her baldness or displayed her scalp. Trying on hats at the store, she’d peek around to see if anyone was looking, throw off the hat she was wearing and pull on the new hat.

However, henna crowns intrigued Amundson. Through mutual friends, she was able to contact Engel and set up an appointment.

Amundson and her daughters were invited into Engel’s home. They sat in a sunlit room with soft music playing in the background, while Engel and Amundson discussed designs for the crown. Engel started the crown with a flower, and eventually swirling details spread across the entirety of Amundson’s head.

Amundson changed her Facebook profile picture to a photograph her daughter had taken, showing the end result of the crown. This was the first time she shared her baldness on social media.

THE FUTURE

Six months into Henna Heals, Darwin sadly knew it wasn’t going to be a financially profitable organization. The organization had never been about money. However, Darwin knew she needed to support herself, since she was the only one running Henna Heals.

“For the last four years, it’s just been me on my computer in my basement,” Darwin says.

Darwin plans on raising money to archive the website so people are able to access the health and safety information. However, this isn’t the end of henna crowns.

Engel is going to the University of Portland in fall 2014 to enroll in the nursing program. She will still be close to her hometown and hopes people will stay in touch for henna crowns.

Walters continues offering henna crowns for free and encourages anyone going through chemotherapy or hair loss to try a henna crown.

“If you can find a professional henna artist and they’re licensed, that’s always a good indication that you’re dealing with someone responsible and professional,” Walters says. “Then ask them about their ingredients. Talk to your doctor and get the green light. And give it a try.”

In the end, Henna Heals reached its ultimate goal of raising awareness of henna crowns, and Darwin hopes to archive the website during the summer 2015.

Cancer is hard. In so many ways, it takes and takes and takes. It takes hope. It takes happiness. It takes away sense of security. Cancer squeezes the life out of you, filling you with drugs that might take away your hair. Finding hope is difficult, and seeing my mother find empowerment in a henna crown is more than fulfilling. It fills the empty void that cancer created and creates beauty in a horrible disease.

To my cousin, Stefanie, who cancer took away a year ago: Rest in peace.

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