In my time I have been a revolting gingist. My daughter Alix was born 17 years ago with a fine carrot topping. Over time, she developed into a fully-fledged ginger. Ginger is one of the first words she learned. Why? Because I called her my little ginge, my ginger darling - on a good day.Read more at The Guardian
At other times, I went the ginger with two hard Gs route. What made me think I had the right? Because I was her father, because I thought I was being funny, because I loved her? Whatever, there was no excuse. When we met other gingers, I'd smugly announce, "Look, one of yours!" and expect the both of them to crack up at my sparkling wit. Thoughtless bastard.
Worst of all, I travelled the road euphemistic. Despite my "banter", I told Alix her hair was copper, Titian, russet - anything but ginger.
Saturday, 24 January 2009
Gingerism; the last acceptable prejudice?
Simon Hattenstone, the father of one red headed child elaborates on his misinformed prejudice against his own daughter, whilst asking the question "Why do so many seemingly decent people - the type who would hate to be considered prejudiced - think gingerism is perfectly acceptable?"