Only a ginger can call another ginger ginger

My observant regular readers will notice that I have changed the title of my blog. This is because I have logged it on a website for expat blogs, and my name isn't really a catchy title. Originally, I decided to call it 'Tales from a redhead in Cairo' (or something like that) but I wasn't at all happy with the whole redhead thing. I think this is because I have never fully embraced the positives of being a redhead, in fact I would have to say I'm pretty ambivalent about it. So I've decided to write a whole blog post about being a redhead, especially since red hair seems to be having a bit of a renaissance.

Me aged 10 (and Penny the Westie)

My parents aren't redheads, and neither are my sister or brother. Only one of my grandparents, my paternal grandmother, had red hair, and it wasn't really red, it was strawberry blonde. Apparently my maternal grandmother's father had quite a shock of red hair. So the MC1R receptor gene is pretty capricious. Throughout my whole life I've been told that I'm lucky to be a redhead, always by people who aren't redheads. The thing is, I don't feel lucky. Well I do feel lucky, but not because I was blessed with a defective MC1R.

Those of you who have only known me as an adult will be surprised to hear that I was incredibly shy as a child (I can hear the incredulous gasps as I type) and this was because, whether I liked it or not, I stood out. Children can be merciless, and I was an easy target. Apparently, there are more redheads per head of population in Scotland than any other country in the world, but even in Scotland I was usually the only redhead in my class in school. Like the majority of redheads, I suspect, I was bullied. Ginger. Gingernut. Carrot. These were the most common names, usually accompanied with other insults. I'm not going to describe what it was like because that would be impossible, and one of my heroes, Tim Minchin, does it so much better than I could in this video. On top of this, we moved a lot when I was a child, so I went to 6 different schools. Every time I went to a new school the whole thing started again. It only really stopped when I went to university, but by then it was too late. I hated it. 

Even without the bullying, having natural red hair is, mostly, a complete pain in the ass. I fondly remember having a pre-operation visit from an anaesthetist who walked in, rolled his eyes and said "oh great! A redhead!" And he was a redhead himself! This is because redheads have a lower pain threshold than non-redheads and are harder to anaesthetise apparently. The operation itself was for endometriosis - something else redheads are more likely to get. I've had skin cancer three times - and three different types! This is despite being brought up in Scotland! I need to slather myself in gunky factor 50 even when it's cloudy (yes, I know, moving to a hot country is a bit of a questionable decision on this fact alone) and I'm more prone to allergies.

Then there's the staring and the comments. I don't like Italy (sorry Italian friends) and the main reason is because years ago when I went to Italy on holiday, Italian men made lewd comments related to my hair. Small children laughed and pointed at me on the beach, although I think that might have been because I almost blinded them when I took my wrap off. I was only in my early 20s at the time and I didn't know how to handle it. I don't notice any more. When my sister visited Cairo with me earlier this year, she felt that Egyptians stared at us. It might be true, but I didn't notice because I'm so used to being stared at. And, to any males reading this - saying to a redhead (with that lascivious up and down eye-rake) "...does the carpet match the curtains?" is NEVER, EVER, EVER going to get you into bed with a redhead.     

It would be a lie to say I have grown to love my red hair, but I do like it more than I used to, and I have come to realise that it has become inextricably linked to my identity. I know this because now that my natural colour isn't really red any more (it's a weird yellowy-white colour which apparently is what redheads do instead of going grey), I'm dyeing it red again. I really can't explain it. Egyptians (men and women) love it though. People keep telling me I'm so beautiful (without the eye rake) and it's nice! And maybe it's good to stand out from the crowds, which I certainly do in Cairo.

By the way if you think of a good title for my blog, I'm open to suggestions....