(Or at least, my redheaded female counterparts.)
People telling you that you look tired despite having slept 12 hours the night before.
Nope, not tired. Not even a little. I just have translucent eyelashes and no eyebrows, and my skin is so pale that there are always some remains of a shadow underneath my eyes.
As much as I want full dark eyelashes and skin that isn’t always some varied shade of pink, it’s just not going to happen.
The inexplicable annoyance that sometimes comes over you when you’re referred to as a “ginger.”
Perhaps it’s because the term was created as a sort of slur, but I’d much rather be referred to as a redhead.
Let’s take a look at Urban Dictionary’s definition: “A human, characterised by pale skin, freckles and bright red hair. ‘Gingers’ are generally considered to be inferior to their more melanin-rich brethren, and thus deservingly discriminated against. Gingers are thought to have no souls. The condition, ‘gingervitis’ is genetic and incurable.”
Alright that’s hilarious, but you can see why I hate it. And yes it’s all in light-hearted fun, but boy it certainly didn’t feel that way when I was being teased as a child.
(Yes, I do occasionally refer to myself as ginger. Sometimes it’s just easier.)
When you get your eyebrows penciled in for a wedding/special occasion and the make-up artist thinks it’s a good idea to make you look like a Kardashian.
This happened at my best friend’s wedding, when I was a bridesmaid. I’m okay with eyebrow colouring – I had it done just before I moved to Berlin. (The blessing of light eyebrows is that I rarely need to wax or pluck them.) But THIS make-up artist made my face almost unrecognisable.
Admittedly, this doesn’t look all that bad in this photo. But it’s not ME. Get it?
I looked like a trashy hooker. As much as I abhor light eyelashes and eyebrows, I do not want my golden arches to look like they’ve been tattooed there.
Here’s a more normal version of pencilled eyebrows.
Not an engagement photo.
People automatically assuming you’ll identify with anything that’s ginger related.
Just like this blog post, in fact!
I don’t mind people sending me dozens of memes per day. I don’t even mind getting endless invitations to attend redheaded events organised around the world. It’s a big part of my identity, it’s true.
Just keep in mind before you send me something or tag me in something that you’re likely the 50th person to do so that day.
The weird obsession with Anne of Green Gables, or any other red haired celebrity.
Okay, Anne isn’t a celebrity. She’s fictional. But I love her. When I was really young, I started reading the first book in the series and was immediately enraged by Anne’s hatred for her own hair. I actually stopped reading because of it. I’m not even kidding.
But picking up the book 20 years later, I fell in love with her.
It’s the same when you see red haired folks on television. You feel a special kinship with them, despite their make-up artists also thinking that they’d be better suited to look like everyone else in Hollywood with dark eyebrows and unnatural tans.
The odd pride that comes with being a mystical unicorn.
Red hair and blue eyes are the rarest combination in the world? Why, that’s me! You’d be lucky to have me. I’m a rare gem.
People telling me to wear sunscreen and a hat, including strangers. Sometimes on tours.
I’m not sure if they’re aware of this but like, I’ve been ginger my whole life. I’m well conditioned to the fact that five minutes in the sun is enough to turn my already pink skin into a glistening, blistered sheath of cancer.
Yeah, I’m still prone to sunburns. But dudes, I’m nearly 30. I got this.
And, by the way, I do tan. Rather nicely, in fact.
Okay I bronze slightly.
The unbelievable irritation that sweeps over you when someone makes a “gingers have no souls” joke.
HAHA SO FUNNY. I HAVEN’T HEARD THAT ONE 500 TIMES TODAY ALREADY.
Three thumbs up for originality.
Hearing weird superstitions about red hair.
A doctor once told me, as a child, that he didn’t like seeing redheads go into surgery because we tend to bleed so much. This was after scheduling my tonsillectomy.
I never did get my tonsils out.
We’re also apparently crazier and angrier than most normal people. I suppose I’m not doing myself any justice with this post.
Bonus: Not having to shave your legs ever.
I’m fully expecting an onslaught of ginger jokes after this is published. Show me whatchu got.