Life, Values & Legacy: Our Chat with Macy Gordon of birmingham

We recently had the chance to connect with Macy Gordon and have shared our conversation below.

Macy, a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: When was the last time you felt true joy?
The last time I felt true joy was during a spontaneous day with my best friend—a day I had no idea would become our final memory together. I had returned to Atlanta for the first time in two years, hoping to escape the weight of unsupportive family and the pressure of building my business on my own. After a long self-care morning—spa, nails, dental work—I met up with my best friend at the mall. We laughed, talked for hours, and even matched our braces colors by coincidence. It was August 2024, and for the first time in a long time, I felt light again.

Just a few months later, on November 1st, 2024, he passed away. Since then, joy has felt like something I’m still learning to reach for. My life has been a roller coaster of trying to rediscover who I am, rebuild my passion, and figure out how to move through the world without the person who knew me best. I recently lost my first cousin as well, but the grief has left me numb, as if my heart has run out of ways to react.

Even with all this loss, rebranding my business has become my anchor. Pouring my energy back into what I love gives me a sense of purpose and a spark of happiness. Knowing that I inspire young girls and women—to feel beautiful, to keep going, to rise through their own moments of darkness—reminds me that my work matters. It keeps me grounded. It keeps me moving. And slowly, it’s helping me find my joy again.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Macy S. Gordon, born in Chicago, IL and raised in Atlanta, GA. I relocated to Atlanta after the passing of my mother, Sharetha T. Holmes, a respected celebrity hairstylist in Chicago. My upbringing had always felt like a dream—I was raised in a two-parent household alongside my older brother, Xavier C. Holmes, and grew up traveling to countries such as England, the Bahamas, and Jamaica. My childhood was full of love, opportunity, and experiences, until everything shifted with the loss of my mother.

Her passing left me confused, heartbroken, and struggling to understand why God had taken her so soon. Being separated from my brother as he remained in Chicago while I moved to Georgia added another layer of emotional difficulty. Starting over in sixth grade made me quiet and introverted as I adjusted to a new city, new school, and life without a mother’s guidance.

It was during this time that I met my best friend, who sadly passed away last year. Despite our challenges, we grew up together, went to college together, and created memories I will cherish forever. I attended Miles College, one of the greatest HBCUs in Fairfield, Alabama, where I earned my Bachelor’s degree in Biology (Pre-Med) with a minor in Communications and a concentration in Integrated Public Health.

I am currently pursuing my Master’s degree in Marketing, with plans to graduate in May 2026. Over the next few months, I also plan to obtain my real estate license to expand my opportunities within the sales and property market.

My passion, however, remains deeply rooted in the hair industry—an industry that my mother built her legacy in. I am the owner of a hair extension business where I sell premium bundles, wigs, clip-ins, lace closures, and frontals. My vision is to expand by saving and investing into opening a fully stocked storefront in my city, allowing women to walk in, feel the hair, and experience my brand firsthand. My slogan, “Quality Over Quantity,” reflects my commitment to top-tier customer service and exceptional product quality.

My long-term goal is to finish the dream my mother started: opening a full-service salon and beauty bar where clients can receive everything from nails and hair to facials and men’s grooming. I also plan to open a restaurant offering great food, live music, and a vibrant atmosphere—an environment full of culture, comfort, and community.

Ultimately, I am working to build a legacy that my future children can be proud of—one rooted in entrepreneurship, creativity, resilience, and service to others.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: What did you believe about yourself as a child that you no longer believe?
As a child, I believed that I had to stay quiet, small, and out of the way to be accepted. After losing my mother and relocating, I convinced myself that blending in was safer than standing out—that my voice didn’t matter and that I had to suppress parts of myself to avoid being judged, misunderstood, or overlooked.
Today, I no longer believe that. I’ve learned that my voice does matter, my presence carries value, and I don’t have to shrink myself to make others comfortable. I now understand that I am capable, deserving, and strong enough to take up space, lead, inspire, and build the life and legacy I want.

What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
The defining wounds of my life have come through loss—each one shaping me, challenging me, and forcing me to grow in ways I never expected. The first wound came on Valentine’s Day of 2010, when I lost my mother. Her passing was the first major trigger of my life; it broke the foundation I knew and changed the trajectory of my childhood. Losing her so young, created confusion, loneliness, and a long journey of trying to understand life without the person who gave me my first sense of identity.

The second wound came a few months into college, when I lost my only brother. As the first college student in my family, I was pushing myself to succeed partly to make him proud, knowing my mother only had two children. His loss felt like another rug pulled from beneath me—another piece of my support, history, and family gone.

My third defining wound happened most recently, on November 1st, 2024, when I lost my best friend. He was the person who saw me, understood me, and walked through life with me—especially after the losses I had already faced. What made it even heavier was that all three of them had birthdays back-to-back. My mother and best friend shared the same birthday on November 29th, and my brothers was December 15th. Because of that, the end of 2024 was one of the hardest, most emotionally draining seasons of my life, filled with reopened wounds and memories that cut deeply.

But despite the pain, I’ve begun healing through two things: my business and solitude. Rebuilding my brand this year gave me purpose again. It reminded me that I still have a future worth fighting for. My solitude taught me how to sit with my emotions, understand them, and grow from them instead of running from them. Piece by piece, I’ve been learning how to turn my wounds into wisdom and my losses into motivation.

I am still healing, but I am also rising. And through my work, my faith, and my inner strength, I’m honoring each person I’ve lost by becoming the woman they always believed I could be.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? Is the public version of you the real you?
The public version of me is real, but it’s only part of who I am. What people see is the strong, driven, and ambitious woman building her brand, pursuing her goals, and inspiring others. That version is authentic—it reflects my resilience, my work ethic, and my passion for helping women feel confident and empowered.
But the private me carries the layers of my losses and my healing journey. Losing my mother, my brother, and my best friend shaped me in ways that the world doesn’t always see. That side of me—the reflective, vulnerable, and growing part—mostly exists in solitude. Both versions are real. The public version shows my strength; the private version nurtures my growth. Together, they define the whole of who I am: a woman learning to embrace both her resilience and her vulnerability.

Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. If you knew you had 10 years left, what would you stop doing immediately?
If I knew I only had 10 years left, the first thing I would stop doing is worrying about what anyone thinks of me—including family or old friends. I’ve learned that people come and go for a reason: some are no longer with us physically, and others I simply outgrew. I now only keep the two real friends who truly support and understand me, and that’s more than enough.
I would stop holding back, stop overthinking, and stop letting fear or other people’s opinions dictate my choices. Every moment would be spent fully pursuing my passions—building my business, expanding my brand, creating my beauty bar and restaurant, and leaving a legacy for my future children. I’d focus on joy, growth, and experiences that matter, fully unapologetic, fully ambitious, and fully myself.

Contact Info:

Image Credits
Hair: Gla’Noir Essential LLc.
Model: Macy S. Gordon Owner
Photographer: Glenver Terry

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