A few days ago, Kate Middleton—duchess and mother of the heir apparent of the royal crown of England—was shamed on the front page of one of the most popular papers in England, the Daily Mail, for going out in public with the roots of her natural silver hair (barely) visible.

Putting a telescopic lens to her head, they tsked-tsked her for daring to reveal even the tiniest bit of her true colors.

Kate is pregnant, and sources have cited that the duchess has held off coloring in order to protect her unborn child from unnecessary chemical exposure. Given this, I think the Daily Mail really needs to be held to account for attempting to shame a pregnant woman for making the choice not to color. Speaking of shame: shame on you Daily Mail.

And while the tiniest peek of silver hair sent Kate’s critics into a frenzy (no doubt sensing blood like sharks in the water of their own stupidity), it me got excited for a whole other reason: I could not help but visualize Kate—the glowing duchess of 33—with the crown of her own silver hair situated brilliantly and fully upon her head.

If she were to grow out her sparkle rather than hide it, she would serve as a beacon of courage and authenticity, inspiring literally millions of women to embrace the beauty that is already theirs lying just underneath the layers of hair dye that, in my opinion, often veil their native brilliance.

With that, allow me to introduce myself. I am Sara, hailing from the legendary realm of the Silver Sirens, which some believe to be a myth but in truth has been here for millennia. Here, women are graced with—and proudly display—sparkling silver locks, self-love and magnetic appeal. The color of our hair is recognized as a powerful symbol for our mysterious powers and likeness to the silvery moonlight. Here, we make no apologies.

And so I offer the Duchess an invitation: With one foot already through the gate and the faintest glimmer of your magic already being revealed, won’t you pay a visit to the land of the Silver Sirens?

We host elaborate dance parties, ride Harleys, and alternate between ball gowns and anything with leopard print (or whatever the heck we feel like). We are young and we are old; but we are anything but frumpy. We remember Who We Are and spread our magic generously wherever we go, inviting women to join us in the remembrance of their royalty (that should be particularly easy, in your case).

And best of all, there are no pesky root touch ups. Let’s just say, life is very, very good here.

Perhaps the rite of passage that is motherhood is calling you deeper, ever deeper, into remembrance of the magical woman you’ve always been. Underneath that pretty reddish brown (which looks lovely on you, by the way) lies your precious inheritance, an inimitable signature of your authentic power.

Your hair is your own, so please do as you like. But personally, I hope you dare, Kate. I hope you tell the likes of Daily Mail where to go with nothing other than the most eloquent flick of your gorgeous natural locks and a dazzling smile, and a powerful gleam in your eye.

Because our greatest royal accessory—the one that the world needs most, that makes it a brighter place—is never a tiara that someone else places on our head. It is, rather, our very own Truth. And no one—no one—has the right to shame you for your shine.

~

Relephant:

Why Letting My Hair Turn Silver is a Radical Act of Self Love.

Bonus:

Author: Sara Sophia Eisenman

Editor: Travis May

Photo: Author’s Own, magazine.foxnews.com