I am a ginger. I am neither proud nor sad about the fact. To me, it simply means that I have a spattering of freckles all over my body and should probably take extra care when I'm in the sun, (which, admittedly, I'm often very lax on.)
I never actually thought I was different from anyone else up until a few years ago when people began to ask me if I have a soul. I was extremely confused until I happened upon the 'Gingers' South Park episode, where Cartmen claims we gingers are inferior to those blessed with sun-hardy skin. I admit, that was a very funny episode and I loved the opportunity to laugh at myself. But I also blame that episode for opening up a whole new world of degrading jokes.
Gingers are people too. And contrary to popular belief, we do indeed have souls.
If you think hating on someone because they are a ginger is any different than using racist slurs, then you are sorely mistaken. I can do nothing to change the color of my skin just as a black person can do nothing to change their's.
Often I still laugh at ginger jokes directed at me, trying to take it in good stride, because really, I know, for the most part, no one really means any harm by it. I'm still a person too though, with a soul as complete as yours.
I know the jokes probably will never stop, and I know some people probably think my freckles make me look diseased. But hey, at least I like myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment