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In Defence of Gingers!

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Dallas Boyd
Dallas Boyd

I recently read the article about the sperm bank that wouldn’t take ginger sperm, cause no one wants ginger babies. I can’t say it didn’t sting a little. “We can be hot” I thought, and went on Google Images to look at hot redheads to boost my self esteem a wee bit.   

I’m not a carrot top ginger, more strawberry blonde (so I’m told) but either way, don’t see what the big fuss is about. Stereotypically redheads are usually viewed as “untrustworthy, mischievous, temperamental, and lustful.” I’m still not seeing the negative here. I like to be mischievous and lustful. It’s good for the skin. I have great skin. Two separate sex studies in both Germany and England found that women with red hair have sex more often. Now how is any of this boding poorly for redheads so far?

With the obvious exception of being glad I wasn’t born in ancient Egypt, where they apparently used to burn red-haired girls alive. Reason? They were “unlucky.” Of course they were fucking unlucky, miserable psychos were burning them alive. Greek myths indicated that redheads would turn into vampires when they die (non-ginger Twilight fans should be jealous) and witch-hunting manuals of medieval Europe spread the word that red hair, green eyes and freckles were marks of a witch. Specifically for these beliefs alone, I was proud as punch to be a kid with rare red hair. Suck it, I thought. I’m special. I’m a witch. I especially thought I must have magical powers on account of having one green eye and one blue eye. That surely means something kick ass, I figured. Pipi Longstockings has red hair, I thought. And her Dad’s a pirate and her animals can talk. I was connecting the dots in the most logical way I knew how. And it was all win-win.

However, on the tail end of High School, I must admit I got a sad sneaky idea in my head that any shade resembling red, auburn, strawberry blonde, ginger, or otherwise equalled ugly. I dated a stellar guy for a short time who offered to pay for me to visit a tanning salon and bleach my hair. Which was a high point. So in time I began highlighting my hair and easily passed for a natural blonde. People made ginger jokes about other people around me all the time, never guessing my true secret identity. Hilarious!

This morning I read a sad story about a boy who killed himself due to bullying. Bullying wankers, I thought. People pick on a minority only when they feel insecure within themselves. Apparently the highest percentage of natural redheads is found in Scotland (13%) followed by Ireland (10%) but the United States for example, only has about 2%. So that makes us an easy target. Luckily scientific studies have demonstrated that redheads require 20-30% more anaesthetic than others to receive the same level of sedation. So basically, we are more hard ass than the rest of you pussies.

Finally, in defence of gingers, I was recently approached by a stranger who was like “so… are you… ginger?” I sort of looked down and mumbled “yes sir”. He replied “it’s just that, it looks like you could be blonde, but then you’re ginger.” I said “right”. He carried on, babbling awkwardly, before announcing that you don’t see too many Asian gingers and what would it be like for an Asian and a ginger to make a baby? (He was Asian). So horrible bizarre awkward pick-up moment aside, it seems he was after my ginger eggs - great success! And who says gingers aren’t in demand? Hahahaha. 

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