The Irish In Me

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I'm going to reveal something about myself I have always been a little embarrassed about. No, embarrassed is not the right word. The word "private" would probably be a better word to describe how I have dealt with this. Not sure why, but I've never really talked about this out loud before. Funny, because I share deep things with people all the time and this isn't so deep, but I just don't share it as freely. Until today. So, here goes...


This is a picture of me at 9 months old.


This is me at 9 years old (my mom insisted on that hair style! WHY?!!! How I survived is a mystery!)


This is me at 18 years old


What do all these pictures have in common? (Besides the obvious that they are all pictures of me.) My hair is the same color in all three pictures. The little girl on Santa's knee grew up and changed a lot but the hair color stayed the same.

Neither of my parents had red hair but my paternal grandmother and great grandmother had red hair and many, many of my paternal ancestors did as well. I've learned (from a college Genetics class that I took TWICE for unmentionable reasons) that both parents need to have the gene for a child to be born with red hair. As a young girl, my hair was always talked about because I was the only grandchild with red hair and well, let's face it, red hair is not that common anyway - 2% of the world's population has red hair - not that many of us.

From the very beginning, I knew that my hair color made me different. Not to mention that I have enough hair for three people! My hair has been a source of my identity my whole life. I didn't really know how different I seemed until 4th grade when the difference was made very clear as the boys started in with the name calling. Let's see, there was "Carrot top", of course, "Red Headed Monkey" "Fire Bomb" "Cherry Bomb" "Fire Brain", I think I've suppressed the others. My mom said it was just because they all thought I was cute. (You can see my picture in 4th grade - the ginormous hair - that is probably why they were making fun of my hair!)

Oh and the best one of all. My 7th grade PE teacher would say to me, "Davis!" (that was my maiden name) "I'd rather be dead in bed than red on the head! Ha! Ha! Ha!" "Very funny Ms. Hunter," I would say. She said this every day!!! Let's just think about that one - "I would rather be DEAD in bed than red on the head." go figure!

Now, before you start feeling sorry for me, just hold on one little minute. I didn't care about the boys teasing me, not that much anyway. I didn't care about my PE teacher's comments or the gazillion comments that were made to me on an almost daily basis about my hair color. Honestly. Somewhere deep inside of me I liked having red hair. For some reason, still unknown to myself, I have always been very honored to be a descendant of hard working, courageous and faithful Irish ancestors. I have ancestors from England, Wales, Switzerland and even France but the Irish ones seemed to be more influential in my life. Even in elementary school and Jr. high, I loved learning about my ancestors and all they sacrificed so that I could enjoy the freedoms that are mine. (that's the part I never shared because what 13-year-old loves family history? So not only was I a red head, I was a genealogy loving, 13-year-old red head - that had weirdo written all over it at that age.)

So, I'll take the sunburns, the "bad temper" label (good excuse!), the name calling, the narrow minded comments, not being able to wear most shades of red, being identified by my hair color- (You all do it, "You know, Lisa Love, she has red hair.), the weird myths (red heads are allergic to orange juice) and whatever else having red hair entails. (It has actually been scientifically proven that red heads have a lower tolerance to some types of pain - has something to do with the delicate nature of our skin) I'm just glad I didn't live during the Salem Witch Trials - that would not have been good.

The next time you see a kid with red hair, please tell them how much you love their locks. Even if you don't, they need the self-esteem boost for sure! I will make it to Ireland someday but even if I don't, I look forward to meeting my Irish ancestors after this life. Do you think they'll still have red hair? Hmmmmm.......

Whew! That feels good to get that out! :)


For those of you who haven't seen me for a long time...this is a current picture of me. Those of you who see me on a regular basis, just squint your eyes while you look at the picture and imagine really hard.