Rebirth. Clarity. Crown.

Why I Shaved My Head After Becoming Dr. Charity Ndisengei

Just yesterday, I had a chance encounter at the gym. A friend looked at me mid-workout and casually asked,“Wait… aren’t you a doctor now?”

And without thinking, I replied,“No?”

She tilted her head and said, “But I saw your LinkedIn title change?0”

Cue the pause.

The very awkward pause.

Because she was right. And I was wrong. I am a doctor. As of August 2025, I officially became Dr. Charity Ndisengei. Dissertation defended, CAO approved, hood and all.

But in that moment - standing there in sneakers and a sweatband - I had disowned that identity as if I hadn't earned it. That simple interaction stopped me in my tracks and made me realize two things:

1. I hadn’t shared this milestone with my world.

2. Worse, I hadn’t fully absorbed it myself.

So… Here’s the Update

A few months ago, I shared a post on LinkedIn about the excitement of having my dissertation move to committee review. Since then, a lot has happened:

• I received full committee approval

• Defended my dissertation and passed with distinction

• Received final CAO approval from the university

• And I am now, officially, Dr. Charity Ndisengei, DBA, MBA

Typing that still feels surreal.

Because while the degree was earned, the identity is still settling in. And perhaps even more than the title, what I’ve gained is a renewed sense of self.

But let me back up.

The Weight of the Journey

This doctorate didn’t come with neatly paved roads. There were no shortcuts. No wealthy benefactors. No extended sabbaticals. It was built on grit, spreadsheets, overdue readings, business decks, dissertation drafts, client deliverables, and 5 a.m. workouts that held me together.

But the truth is, this journey started long before academia.

In 1999, when Zimbabwe’s economy collapsed, my parents’ business shuttered overnight. I was 19, about to go into my second year at university in South Africa. We sat down, and they gently told me they couldn’t afford to send me back.

I remember every second of that conversation.The weight of their disappointment. The panic in my chest. The unspoken fear: This might be it.

But something in me refused to let the story end there. So I made a deal: “Pay for the first semester. I’ll figure the rest out.”

And I did. I waitressed. Worked the ticket booth at Ster-Kinekor. Took side jobs. Found a way. No silver spoons. Just stubborn vision and divine provision.

And that mantra stayed with me: Provision follows vision.

Over the years, that single truth became the backbone of my career, my consulting practice, my motherhood, my leadership style and this very doctorate.

Why I Shaved My Head

After I received the news that my doctorate was approved, something strange happened:Instead of celebrating, I just… kept going.

Back-to-back client meetings. Brand strategy workshops. Dissertation formatting. School drop-offs. Budget meetings. Performance reviews. Leadership decks.

I hadn’t stopped. Not once.I hadn’t even let it land.

Until the moment at the gym.

And that’s when I knew: I needed a reset. Not the kind you put on your calendar. The kind that comes from within.

So I did something radical.I walked into my bathroom, stood in front of the mirror...... and I shaved all my hair off.

Again.

Not for fashion. Not for rebellion. Not for reinvention. But for release.

The Symbolism of the Shave

Hair holds energy. It holds stories. It holds expectations.

So when I shaved mine off, it meant:

1. I’ve Shed the Old Skin

   Every lock that fell represented the weight of striving—the fatigue, the imposter syndrome, the silent “am I good enough?” that lingered even after earning my doctorate.What remains is clarity. A blank canvas. A quieter mind.

2. I’ve Declared My Authority

   Imposter syndrome tells you to dim. To defer. To delay your worth.Shaving my head flipped that script. It said: I am here, and I am not waiting for anyone to validate me.

3. I’ve Claimed My Power

   Women’s worth is often tangled in how we wear our hair.By removing mine, I demanded to be seen differently—on my own terms.Not as someone becoming, but someone who already is.

4. I’ve Crossed a Threshold

   This isn’t just a new hairstyle. It’s a rite of passage.From student to scholar. From striving to standing.From proving to presence.

The Professional Parallel: Brand Clarity

As a brand strategist, I work with organizations to uncover the truth of who they are; and translate that into strategies, stories, and systems that create value.

This journey reminded me of something essential: Before a brand can lead with confidence, it must stand in clarity. Before a person can lead with impact, she must stand in her truth.

Brands, like people, often need to let go of what no longer serves them.Outdated messaging. Legacy expectations. Fear of change.The bravest ones aren’t just “rebranded” - they are reborn.

That’s the business I’m in. Not just branding. But transformation.

My New Mantra

So as I move into this next chapter, both personally and professionally, I carry this mantra with me:

I release what no longer serves me. I stand rooted in the power I have earned. I am not becoming - I am. This is my rebirth, my clarity, my crown. I lead with wisdom, courage and truth.

To Anyone Walking Through a Threshold

Whether you’re navigating reinvention, burnout, achievement, or imposter syndrome - know this:

You don’t owe anyone proof. You don’t have to explain why you’re ready. You only have to know that you are.

You’ve earned the next chapter. Now go write it with your full chest.

And if it helps, shave it all off and start fresh.

With gratitude, clarity and power, Dr. Charity Ndisengei, DBA, MBA.