I’m a natural redhead, and it’s safe to say I’ve gotten a lot of heat for it throughout my life.
As a child, I had curly, bright red hair, and the fair skin that came with it. As I grew, the stereotypes of being a redhead started to become prevalent; for example, having a hot temper. Every time I would get upset or angry, the reason I was vocal about it was attributed to my hair color. I also started having to go to the dermatologist’s to get all my freckles and moles checked. That’s about as far as it went in my adolescence.
When I hit high school I was bullied for my hair color. I had decided to join Speech and Debate as a freshman and there was a sophomore boy that thought it would be funny to bring up my being a redhead. “Do you have a nickname?” he asked, on the first day of practice, and I was confused because not only was it a random question, I had never talked to him before. “No?” I replied, and he said “I bet they call you fire crotch.” I was so taken aback that this boy, whom I didn’t even know, would speak to not only a girl so inappropriately but a freshman too. It wasn’t a funny joke between friends. It was harassment. It was humiliating for me and I never went back to Speech and Debate until my senior year, after he had graduated. Between this and the continuous trips to the dermatologist’s, I had to have a total of seven moles removed. And let me tell you, some were quite painful.
And so, in a way, being a redhead has scarred me both inside and out.
That was the worst I had experienced by far, but people always seem to feel the need to ask “Does the carpet match the drapes?” or tell me that I have no soul, comment on how “redheads are more fun in bed,” or inform me that it’s “Kick a Ginger Day.” Despite the fact that there is a “Kiss a Ginger Day,” it does not excuse the fact that these comments and so called “holidays” are embarrassing, insulting, and not funny at all. It’s no different than making fun of someone based on skin color or height; it’s just the way you’re born and you should want to embrace it.
Although I’ve wanted to, I’ve never dyed my hair, mostly because my mother would never let me, but also because I’ve grown to like having red hair. I’ve been stopped in malls, stores, and especially in the hair salon I work at to be told it’s beautiful and asked if it’s natural. I’m proud to say yes! Clearly, one has to be fierce to rock red locks, because dyed or not, the stereotypes will affect you. I’ve come to like my freckles, I’ve gotten used to my scars, and I like standing out in a crowd. If anything, it’s increased my awareness of skin cancer and taught me how to spot a bad mole. Being a redhead is who I am. Even though it hasn’t been easy, I can’t imagine my hair color being any different. And it isn’t the reason I have hot temper, it only matches it.
