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Share Your Stories

Whitelock.Info is a community of people with one main thing in common, the piebald skin and subsequent white forelocks. We each have stories to tell about them too. I urge you to share your story with us. It doesn't have to be spellbinding to be interesting to us. Proper grammar is not what we are looking for here. We just want to make a connection – to know there are others out there who go through the same things we have dealt with, be it funny or sad or whatever. I'll throw a couple of stories out there to get the ball rolling, but it's your community. Contribute or it will gett pretty boring just reading what I have to offer. Just keep it clean, it is a family site after all. We prefer Word documents attached to email. Send it (or any questions you have) to editor@whitelock.info. Please keep personal info private – no real names or addresses go out on the web. Stories are to be about you. No gossip. If the story is about someone else, get them to tell it. By submitting the story you are giving Whitelock.Info the rights to publish it. All stories published on Whitelock.Info are copyrighted. No one except the original author may copy or reproduce them in whole or part or in any manner whatsoever without expressed written permission from the author and Whitelock.Info.

Submit your story to the editor.

 
Story Title Author's Username Date
You're Beautiful, It's True Sophie B. January 11,2007
"Black Like Me" Ruth Anderson October 16,2006
Lost and Found Mike Reilly October 16,2006
One... Two... Three... Dan Anderson June 29,2006


You're Beautiful, It's True.
I was born with the white triangle on my forehead and birthmarks on my stomach and legs, which appeared a few months later on. I know my mother also has these marks and I think my grandmother did too, but both did not really like talking about it so I have never really questioned it or investigated it further. I now have three children and it was after my eldest son's questions that prompted an investigation - which lead me to this site! Neither of my boys have the marks but my daughter (who has blonde hair, mine is black) does not seen to have the hairstreak although she does have the marks on her legs and stomach.

Growing up I was always embarrassed of my birthmarks; I was not really bothered about the hair - although it often did get comments. My parents did not deal with it well, my mother was forever buying different creams to cover them up and my dad even took me to try and get them removed by a tattooist! I always wore long trousers and skirts and a sarong on the beach to cover the marks but all of this changed when my daughter was about four months old. I was bathing her one-day and noticed she had the birthmarks on her. I was distraught; I desperately did not want my precious little girl to go through what I went through growing up. I rang my husband in tears and could hardly get the words out as to what had happened, he came straight home. He sat me down, mainly to try and get some sense out of me, and when I told him about the marks, what he said - as corny as this sounds, changed everything. Now writing these words it does not sound like much but I can tell you it meant the world. He simply told me that I was beautiful, I had great legs and he loved my marks, he said that I was special and our daughter would be special. I now sometimes wear knee-length skirts (getting there) and have even been to a swimming pool and did not wear a towel to the side of the pool. It might not sound like much but believe me it is a big step.

I know that the way I will deal with my daughter’s marks is to tell her everyday how perfect and special she is and to never get her to cover it up (except with sun block!) Children can get bullied for all kind of reasons and the only way to combat it is to have self-confidence, as a parent you are in the most perfect place to do this - so tell them they are perfect everyday!

Sophie B.


"Black Like Me"
Hello everyone, I am Ruth Anderson, the mother of Danman007, Rachel Peterson's niece, and also the Chicken Man's old Hen!!!! My mother, Jean Springer Helie, had the white lock and bore three children. My older brother Larry was born without the white lock. Eleven months later, my mother gave birth to twins, my brother Bob and myself. Now this is where it gets interesting. Even though we were twins, certainly not identical since he was a male and myself a female, I inherited the white lock and he didn't.

When my son Dan was born, and five days old, we were walking in the Mall when I noticed two older women walking towards us and staring very intently at my white lock. Just after they passed by I overheard the one say to the other, "Look, she dyed that little baby's hair just like hers". I just turned around and smiled.

When Dan was about eleven years old, we became concerned about his skin being burned so much since we had problems keeping him out of the sun. We went to a dermatologist and he felt nothing but sunscreen would help. However, he asked me if we'd mind if he could try an experiment with us. There was a new medication out that would quickly darken the skin; however, it was unavailable except by experimental prescription. At the time it was being sold on the Black Market to movie actresses who were looking to achieve a quick deep tan. It was also used by the white actor who turned himself black in order to star in the movie, "Black Like Me". Anyhow, Dan and I tried taking it even though I told the doctor I was sure it wouldn't work. I took the medication about a month and my white skin stayed white, but my pigmented skin turned very, very dark, so I stopped taking it.

I have enjoyed reading other's stories on your website and just thought I'd add my input.

Thanks,
Ruth Anderson


Lost and Found
One of my earliest memories is of a time when we were visiting family in Omaha while moving from east coast to west. I was only 3 years old, so when all the women decided to go shopping, my mom, Ramona, brought me along. My Grandma (Cecil), aunts Donna, Imelda, and Helen, and Mom and I descended upon Woolworth's. Once they settled into the women's clothing section, (lots of brassieres as I recall) I evidently got bored and wandered off.

Next thing I knew, they were all gone. The whole gaggle of them had moved on without me. I commenced to look rather forlorn when I could not find any of my tribe and proceeded to start bawling. A clerk tried to console me saying she would help me find my mother. She asked my mom's name, but I didn't know or could only remember her as Mommy. So she tried to get a description out of me. Through my sobs and tears, I just kept pointing at my whitelock, but she didn't catch on.

So she was taking me to the elevator to go to the Lost and Found Dept when she met another clerk and told her about finding me lost. As soon as the second clerk saw the whitelock, she gasped and said there was a whole group of women in her dept that all had a white lock of hair too. I must belong to them. Soon enough we were reunited, with great fuss being poured out on me.

The whitelock was indeed a blessing in this case.

However, to this day nearly 50 years later, I still dislike shopping, particularly in women's departments!

Mike Reilly


One... Two... Three...
I would like to share something I learned at a young age. When I was about six years old, I was having some problems being different in school. I felt ashamed of being different, because I had a whitelock. I had some time in the summer to spend with my mother's aunt, Rachael Peterson. She was a very proud whitelock. I was able to open up and talk to her about my feelings and how shy I was. That afternoon she brought me into town to go shopping with her. I got in the truck and put on my baseball cap. "Oh No, you're not going to wear that!" Rachael said "You're going to stand by me!" She took my cap off and explained how we were going to have fun. She said "When we get into town and walk down the sidewalk, you hold my hand." "The first people we walk by that look at us funny, we're going to count to three silently and then we'll turn around." I didn't understand why we would want to do this but I loved Aunt Rachael, so I thought I'd give it a try. We walked down the street hand in hand, and like she said, the first people we walked by that looked at us funny, we counted to three and turned around... There those people were turned around looking back at us! And did they ever look goofy! They had stupidest looks on their faces, then their faces and ears turned red and they walked away sheepishly. "Let's try that again!" I said proudly. We did over and over. I learned something from her that day. We are all different! You just take what god gives you and have as much fun as you can with it. Rachael and I giggled and laughed all the way home.

- Dan Anderson

 

Copyright 2006 Mike Reilly.