RARE TRAITS

Last month I wrote a blog post about "gingers" -- those of us with red hair.  It was a post that was sort of sad and mad about the stereotypes, prejudices, and  negative connotations.

(Family Note:  When discussing this with Son-Two, a redhead, he revealed to me that his school years were often rather tortured, socially, all the way from elementary through high school by the teasing and taunting he got as a redheaded boy.  I wish I had known he was suffering in silence over this -- I would have kicked some 10 year old butt on his behalf!)

Anyway, Son-Two brought the following article to my attention and we high-fived in solidarity and a hint of smugness, especially since we two are the rarest of rare with our red hair and blue eyes.
http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/emmakelly/redhead-facts_b_4781153.html

So, now we feel better and will take to teasing all of you blondes and brunettes about your Vitamin D deficiencies.

At least, that's the view from here…  ©

GINGERS UNITE!

I read this article yesterday about prejudice against redheads.   Very interesting and science-y.
http://theweek.com/article/index/255821/the-science-behind-anti-redhead-prejudice

I have been pondering since then if it is (was) true for me.

One of my big regrets at aging (and it's a silly little thing, really) is that no one who didn't know me in my younger years believes I was ever a redhead.  My hair is graying in a really good way --  a "highlighted" mixture of light color (OK, gray) that is turning the whole thing into a sort of a copper-y blonde.  Very nice, if I do say so myself, but usually I am now referred to as "blonde".

Until aging changed it, my hair was red.  When I was a teenager I would have killed to be a blonde.  The cultural fantasy was, and maybe still is, that "blondes have more fun".  This was played out in ads for hair color, scenes of non-stop adventure, photos of raucous laughter, and all manner and hue of blonde girls being surrounded by hot, hunky guys.

My life was more sedate.  I blamed it on the hair.  And the skin, which was always super pale with a little ruddiness, and freckled, not smooth and evenly tanned like was the ideal.  My best friend was blonde and she had the perfect personality for it.  I was the sidekick, sort of ignored best friend:  Super nice, kinda smart, but maybe a little quiet and preferring to go home early.  If I had been able to be self-aware then, maybe I would have also attributed my quieter life to a more discerning taste in what I thought was fun and who I thought was hot and hunky.  But I wasn't wise then, only self-loathing.

Still, from earliest memory, I did garner attention for my hair   It was always worthy of comment, usually from older women, who always remarked, "You have beautiful hair!" as if this was some anomaly.  Or by rather lecherous men, calling or whispering, "Hey, Red!" as if my hair color gave them some entree to familiarity they had not earned through actual introduction.  "Carrot-top" was another moniker some found wholly amusing to toss my way.

I wanted to hide.  I felt shame and embarrassment.  I longed for the anonymity of brown or yellow hair.

Maybe I was particularly sensitive, since neither of my parents had red hair, although my older brother and I did.  That recessive gene popped up unbidden in both of us (and yes, I am certain we had both of  the parents we had).  This caused even more ruckus.  If had a a dollar for every time I heard: "Where'd you get that red hair?!?" I'd be richer than rich.  My little girl self had no way of knowing how to answer that, but somehow I got that I was a freak or was "wrong" to have the hair I did.

Later I came to understand that redheaded women were also assumed to be sexy and exotic, with a fiery temper some found exciting.  I tried to live up to that -- it was a more "positive" stereotype, after all.  But I was (am) sort of an introvert so mostly I just felt like a pretender, still not getting it quite right.

I think it may be even worse for redheaded men.  My younger son is a redhead and he gets a great deal of attention for it -- the kind I had gotten as a kid, too.  He's referred to as a "ginger" by some of his friends and while he doesn't seem to let it bother him, I have sensed he'd rather it not be his defining characteristic.  He's fighting the "tall, dark, and handsome" ideal.  He's tall and very handsome, but he's not dark -- being redheaded, blue-eyed, and fair skinned.  When I did a clip art search for this post, the "redheaded guy" photos were almost exclusively of the goofball, freckled, Poindexter variety.

Which brings me back to the prejudice thing.   A person of my acquaintance recently used the expression:  "redheaded step-child" in a mocking and derrogatory way. While not directed at me,  I was  still offended and then shocked that I'd never heard this expression before…you would think I would have.  I looked it up:  This idiom refers to anyone or anything that is neglected, unwanted, or mistreated.

(The following provided by Word Detective:)

“The best guess I've seen is that while any child may face abuse or neglect from a step-parent, one with a notable feature (such as red hair) reminiscent of the departed former spouse may be a particular target in such a situation. It is also true that red-haired children are often the butt of jokes by their peers, especially in Britain (where they are called 'gingers'), and in several European cultures red hair has historically been considered an unfavorable characteristic."
______________________

Cassell’s Dictionary of Superstitions (1995) tells us that red-haired children are reputedly born to unfaithful mothers, and that meeting a red-headed man or women is considered unlucky. A Dictionary of Superstitions (1989) by Opie says that to be red-haired has been considered unlucky since at least the 12th century. 


No one wants to be defined by, judged by, or identified by a negative stereotype that is used to denigrate.   I know that as prejudices go, being a redhead is relatively benign.  Still….I'm sad for my little girl self who was so embarrassed.  I'm sad for my teenager self who felt so outcast from the ideal.  I'm frustrated for my eldering self who now cannot embrace that which I'd love to flaunt -- and use as a rallying cry:  GINGERS UNITE!   YOU WANT HOT AND FIREY?  I'LL GIVE YOU FRIGGIN' HOT AND FIREY!!!

At least, that's the view from here…. ©

GOOD HAIR DAY

When I made my way to the bathroom, in the early darkish-dawn this morning, I flipped on the light and glanced in the mirror.  My hair looked great!  I am blessed with good hair, I know.  It's thick and turning gray in a good way -- sort of streak-y and people will often say they like my "hair color" or my "highlights" -- as if a compliment to my stylists/colorist.   That makes me smile because I have never, ever colored my hair.

My hair was bright red when I was young. (Yes, everyone called me "Red" or "Carrot-Top" when I was a little girl, which I hated, since I was shy and just wished my hair was brown or yellow like everyone else's to avoid the unwanted attention my redness attracted).  As I got into adulthood, it seemed to darken a bit into a red-auburn, long and thick and quite pretty -- and I didn't mind the attention it attracted nearly so much!

Over the past 5 (OK, maybe more) years, it has "lightened" again.  So much so that people I have met within this time frame do not believe I was ever a redhead.  I was in a waiting room one afternoon and heard the receptionist refer to me as "the blonde woman waiting in reception".  I looked around and realized I was the only one there who could remotely be considered "blonde".  I was shocked!  And saddened.  My very identity has been tied to the unique genetic accident of being a redhead.  That recessive gene's unlikely emergence created a "me" that I had grown to love.  And now I seem to be the only one who still sees me as a redhead.   I look in the mirror and I see red.

Well, I see the gray too, but somehow that just seems like a mistake, like maybe it's temporary and will go away once it's had it's fun with me.  On the other hand, I try to pride myself on being a realist about certain things, and I know that my mother's hair went from tow-head blonde as a young girl to light brown, then darker, and then a slow and progressive graying until in her later years she had a headful of beautiful thick pure white hair.  If that is what is before me, I won't complain.

The women in my family really do have great hair; I see it on my niece and her daughters too.   This gift of good hair may seem trivial, but there is a multi-million dollar "hair industry" that caters mainly to women who's hair seems to betray them at every turn.  Some women spend an inordinate amount of time and money on it.  And I'm all for looking our best (can't beat a really good and face-flattering haircut!), but with all things we have to concern ourselves with in this crazy off-kilter world, I'm just glad my hair isn't one of them.

At least that's the view from here...©