Being Ginger

Being Ginger is not all that it's cut out to be. Growing up, I was constantly approached by strangers asking where my red hair came from, because if you knew my family, I don't exactly match.

To be honest I don't know what people really expect when they meet my family. I don't come from the Weasley family. I come from the O'Kane family, which I guess with our last name you would expect a few more redheads. But nope, just me. 

When I was little, there were very few and far between slurs about my hair from society. But once middle school rolled around I was called things I had never heard before. My favorite throughout the years? Fire Crotch. 

Allow me to run down the list:

Fire Crotch (thanks)

Ginger/ging (Thanks South Park)

Devil Baby (Thanks Hitler?)

Soulless (watch out homie you're next)

Red (meh.)

A few phrases I've come accustomed to: 

Does the carpet match the drapes? (are you an idiot?)

Do you and other gingers plan stealing souls together? (sure?)

Why don't you match your family? ( Did you pay attention in biology?)

Did the milkman stay too long?( a teacher asked that one) 

Do you have anger problems? (well I do now)

Since you're ginger are you like crazy? (bout to be)  

OH. You like don't have eyebrows. (please don't touch my face)

I could keep going, but they're rated R. 

What people don't understand is that by being ginger you're opened up into a new level of discrimination. It's not terrible, it's just annoying. I cannot go to the mall, to the store without hearing something about my gingerness. Usually I wish I hadn't. 

Most recently at the store  "ayye baby you can come steal my soul and some other things too!" No thanks.

As a ginger, and as a human being who believes in personal space. Please stop touching my hair and asking me inappropriate questions. If you want the answers, buy me a drink first and we can talk ginger.

But what all this has taught me is to love myself, and my hair. 

If you got it, flaunt it. 

With ginger love, 

-Tay