I Am Redhead

I Am Redhead



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I Am Redhead
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We spend a lot of time discussing what comes out of each others’ heads.
I’m not talking about thoughts or words. I’m talking about hair.
Many conversations are happening about hair right now, like whose you can touch (spoiler alert: no one’s, unless you have permission and/or are their hair stylist or barber), or what the heck is happening atop the scalp of an individual whose name rhymes with grump. But there is one specific follicle discussion that I am sick of having.
I, Katie Kuppens, have red hair. Those of you who disagree, keep it to yourselves.
No, it is not Carrot Top red. I did not look like I could wander the streets of Paris as a Madeline stand-in growing up. I couldn’t really relate to Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I’m a terrible swimmer, for one thing, and my hair color does not look like it came straight from a box of Crayolas. But as my grandmother would say, my head looks like a penny when the sun hits it.
My ginger status seems to be up for debate for a lot of people. One of my friends from high school insists, after fifteen years of knowing each other, that I am blonde . I have no idea what to do with this besides sputter in exasperation. What is she talking about? I have nothing against blondes, but that is a distinctly different color than what’s growing on my noggin.
For better or worse, I have allowed the idea that I am a redhead to become a part of my identity. It’s not that I live by the stereotypes that redheads are stubborn or hotheads (although, I can be both of those things from time to time). Rather, it’s just part the way I describe myself. The image that I have of me is with red hair.
I’m not sure why people like to argue with me on this fact. It is my head, my identity, why do you think I’m wrong about this?
In a lot of ways, I think identity can be a subjective term. We are born with inherent qualities that make up who we are, but we are the ones who get to decide what they mean for ourselves . We are the ones who get to tell others who we are. Others may try to dictate that for us, and it’s essential that we hold on to the autonomy of our identities as we understand them. Red hair is small potatoes compared to other battles that people fight over identity, like race, sexuality, gender, and religion. Our world is filled with people trying to force others to take on the “correct” identity.
But it is still my hair, my identity. And if I don’t fight for myself, how can I effectively stand with people who are fighting these greater battles?
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