Apparently a reason to follow me on Twitter. A reason to ask me if the carpet matches the curtains. A reason to touch my hair while I walk passed you in the street. A reason to call me the spawn of the devil. A reason to fear me for my fiery temper.
Do all redheads have a fiery temper?
Well, I don’t know… I know this might sound really bizarre but just because I have red hair, it doesn’t mean that I’m psychically linked to all red-haired people on this planet. We’re not Borg, but right now I’m very tempted to assimilate you…
What do you think that redhead in the painting featured at the top of this post – The Accolade by Edmund Blair Leighton – is actually doing.
Is she tapping some guy on the shoulder to let him know that he did a good job?
Is she about to lop off his head because he’s been a very bad boy?
Or maybe she’s just using his tunic to clean some blood and guts, which he’s very relieved aren’t his, off of her shiny pointy stick?
She looks quite peaceful to me, but… it could be the calm before the storm, or the eerie silence after the storm.
“Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
and I eat men like air.”
― Sylvia Plath, Ariel: The Restored Edition
If you’re truly interested in conducting a scientific study to test this theory about the temperament of the red of hair out, might I suggest that you start off by dying your own hair red and seeing what happens.
You look terrified by such a simple and logical suggestion. Are you afraid that all those demons inside of you, which you so carefully hide with your fun-loving blonde…
or are you really a serious brunette under the blonde smile?
…will take the colour change as their cue to come bursting out, flowing forth freely in the motion of big emotions which you seem hell bent not to feel.
Ah, the very human kind of demons hidden within very human humans. But they’re not hidden well now are they?
The slightest dent to the ego, and the pleasant smile turns into an unpleasant snarl.
The merest skip of a pebble on the placid surface, and ripples ripple, soon becoming waves.
The lightest tread on the manicured lawn… well, yes, there was a sign: Do NOT step on the grass… but no one heeds the warning because it is never for them it is for those stupid others who are definitely not them, and the sea of green was so inviting, trespassers never think they are one of those even when they get shot.
“If you’re betwixt and between, trust the one with red hair.”
― O.R. Melling, The Hunter’s Moon
You’d think that all the sunshine shining out of the asserting assembly of good people of this world would chase the shadows away, but it only serves to make them more noticeable. Perhaps an eclipse would be more useful for not allowing to be seen what longs deep inside to be noticed and heard which is why it screams.
Every effort made to get rid of the bugs which bug, prod, poke, bite, nip… only seems to make them swarm.
How do you banish the need, greed, fear, fury, shame, guilt, gory… perhaps by finding a red and blaming her instead.
“Red hair, sir, in my opinion, is dangerous.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Very Good, Jeeves!
I wouldn’t have followed you on Twitter if you didn’t have red hair. I would never have asked you if the carpet matched the drapes if you didn’t have red hair. I wouldn’t have touched your hair as you passed by in the street if you didn’t have red hair.
I wouldn’t have called you the spawn of the devil if you didn’t have red hair… because that would have been silly as only redheads have that historical reputation.
And I wouldn’t fear your fiery temper if you didn’t have red hair… and yet here I am saying this to you which perhaps I shouldn’t because of your red-tempered hair.
“All the kick-ass girls have red hair.”
― Marion Roach, Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Sexual Power of Red Hair
So, I took my own advice and went off on an adventure to find a way not to cause so much trouble for others due to their interpretations of my hair.
I bleached it to bits and that did not go as planned, the red turned to pink… just think of how the poor people would be affected by that!
Brown seemed a safer way to go… but made it so much harder to go anywhere along busy streets. Bump, bump, bumpity-bump. Did this colour come with a force field which forced people to bump into me!? This had never happened before, before the way before me parted when I was red.
Black it must be… but the raven-haired lock look looked ridiculous on me!
“You’d find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair,” said Anne reproachfully. “People who haven’t red hair don’t know what trouble is.”
― Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
And thus I returned to my roots.
Denial was not an option, it had been tried and tested. Depression was far worse when covered by the false and fake. Acceptance was required, and with it came the chance to embrace my license to anger. Bargaining would have to wait while I took stock and restocked the chamber of my natural weapon.
As I sit here writing this, a wisp of white appears… hmmm… new lands await to be explored, but for now let’s end this.
That’s it from me…
Over to you.
This post is inspired by Kira’s Sunday Scribbles for Word of the Day Challenge