|Illustration Behind the Lens by Nan Lawson. Lots of other cool redheads in her Etsy shop.|
As an adult being a redhead is a non-issue. Red hair? So what. Big deal. I don't even think about my hair. I even kinda like it now. It took many years to get to this point though.
As a kid the teasing was merciless (add freckles to the mix and, voila, instant target). I hated my hair. It made me self-conscious. I felt ugly. I know it sounds crazy, but everyone homes in on something, don't they? Especially as a teenage girl. I wanted to lop it off. I fantasised about shaving it, Sinead O'Connor-style, and I was always bugging my mum to let me dye it. She never would. Oh, wait. There was that once she let me dye it...a different shade of red! I was always gunning for black though. Or some other colour completely inappropriate for my skin tone. Now I think, phew! Dodged a bullet there. Thanks, Mum. Can you imagine the photos? Those ones of my wonky fringe in Year 7 are bad enough.
And thanks, Mum, for always telling me my hair was beautiful. I never once believed it. But now I can sort of see that it is special. Especially because now I have children of my own. My three-year-old is not a redhead. My eight-month old is sitting on the fence. She's going through a red stage, but that could change.
Now I think: redheads rock! And if JJ is a redhead, I want her to know that too.
I've been collecting images on Pinterest (where else?)! I wish I had seen some of these when I was going through my 'I want it black' phase as a teenager. If my baby is a redhead, I want her to wear her mane with pride.
Go redheads, woo hoo!