I have naturally red hair. It is something of a chameleon, for it goes blonder if it has been exposed to the sun for any prolonged period of time. At other times, it appears darker and more brown. Blonde, brown, red, and, though I am loathe to admit it, grey can all be identified amongst my thick hair.
It is difficult to pinpoint the exact shade of my hair; people have different opinions on it. Over the years, it has been described as being auburn, copper, dark-red, honey, red-gold and even strawberry blonde. It certainly provides a topic of conversation. If pressed, I personally would describe it as being auburn.
As a child, I did not enjoy being a target for my peers, who used to taunt me by calling me ‘ginger’ or ‘carrot’. Believe me, these names were not meant in a nice way. Even now, well meaning adults sometimes resort to using the reliable ‘ginger’, in an attempt to describe the colour of my hair.
I am unhappy about my hair being described as either ‘ginger’ or ‘carrot’, because neither of these colours are accurate descriptions, and also because of the negative connotations associated with ‘ginger’ in particular. I am not being critical of, or negative about, people with ginger coloured hair. However, the noun ‘ginger’ has become something of a joke, often being used in a derogatory way, due in part to the media. Remember the npower advertisement back in 2000? It featured a picture of a ginger-haired family, alongside the slogan, ‘There are some things in life you can’t choose.’
What I used to dislike about being a redhead, was standing out amongst blonde, brunette and black-haired people. At school, I was desperate to blend into the background, but couldn’t. Now that I am older, I have come to love the colour of my hair, and I am pleased that it is an uncommon one.
I have never had my hair coloured because I feel it would be a shame and that there would be little point, being as it is colourful enough already. It is an added bonus, that having hair this colour means that I don’t feel the need to spend a fortune at the hairdressers, having my hair dyed or having highlights put in.
To conclude, it has taken me thirty years, but now I am ready to confess: I am a redhead, and am proud to be so. And to anyone who has ever called me ‘ginger’, be warned: I do possess the temper that goes with the hair colouring. This is stereotypical, but true.
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