I am my own redhead project
The Happy Tutor was kind enough to link to my pinups a while back, and in the process referred to me as:
Krista, herself a red-head (or passing for one?)
My first thought was: “Whaddaya mean, passing for one? Of course I’m a redhead.” (The Tutor, of course, has never had the exceptional benefit of seeing me.) I consider myself a redhead in every sense of the term, literal and attitudinal and spiritual.
Then I remembered that my literal redheadedness is created with the benefit of Miss Clairol every four to six weeks. Has been since I was fifteen and my mother finally caved and let me dye my hair. That’s twelve years of redheadedness now – long enough that I’m not sure what my natural color is anymore. I’ve felt like a redhead for longer than that, maybe since I was around thirteen or so. So I’ve been a redhead for slightly more or slightly less than half my life.
How did I know that I was a redhead, even when I was a natural blond? I’m not sure. Maybe it was the cultural connotations – the concept of redheads as vivacious, opinionated, a little exempt from hegemonic gender roles, a little bit wildcard. Maybe it was the fact that my grandmother and father are redheads, and it skipped me. Mostly, it was that I just knew.
Nobody seems to argue with it. In fact, people often say “You are such a redhead.” My mother, who was so against it all those years ago, just came in and said that she couldn’t imagine me as anything other than a redhead. I certainly can’t conceive of myself as anything else.
I could say a lot here about conceptualizing identity, and ponder whether my personality precedes the hair or the hair creates the personality (lots of Judith Butler to cite there). (I say the personality precedes the hair.) I could compare my just knowing I was a redhead with other people just knowing that they are meant to be another sex, or meant to otherwise alter their bodies. One could do a lot with this, if one had just a wee bit more time on her hands.
Comments
And I thought we were all going to get the exceptional benefit of seeing you, coyly displaying your suspenders of course.
I was once begged to dye my hair a pre-raphaelite red. In order to be painted. I didn't, and I wasn't, but it did my self-image no end of good!
Posted by: qB | July 31, 2003 5:16 PM
I had two redheaded grandmothers, and what color is *my* hair? Muddy copper.
What that says about my personality I'm not sure I care to know.
Posted by: Dorothea Salo | July 31, 2003 5:33 PM
Well, I would like to say that I am a mind-reading Svengali, but actually, I have seen you, in a picture you posted of a beautiful three year old girl in her Dad's arms. She had straight dirty blond hair. The picture struck me because I am probably within 5 years of your Dad's age, and he looked to me like someone I might have known, back then, when I might have had a beard and worn those kind of woollen work clothes. So, yes, I confess, I have not only seen you, but imagined holding a childish little you -- like your Dad did, with your blonde head buried in my shoulder. (Yes, I am sentimental as can be about kids; they are my favorite people. Maybe it gets back to spanking somehow.)
So, you can imagine my Fatherly shock and dismay when the little blond kid grows up and tries to pass herself off as a red-headed vamp.
Posted by: Tutor | July 31, 2003 6:33 PM
See, there's what I'm talkin' 'bout - cultural connotation of Redhead as Vamp. I hadn't thought about that particular one when I posted this. (Come to think of it, though, I had it very much in mind when I first started this whole hair-dyeing business.) I have little intention of currently passing as a vamp. I'm just a Birkenstocks-and-jeans student, actually. Vampishness is too much work right now.
Now, I will admit to a fascination with vamps on this site, and you might even get me to admit to vampishness in my persona. I suppose it's my fascination with the stereotype of Vamp as Uppity Woman, perhaps one step away from your own dear Candidia.
Posted by: Krista | August 1, 2003 8:58 AM
I know what a charismatic man the Happy Tutor is, and believe me, millions of women of all genders throw themselves at his feet, but please recognize that we are happily married. He has your Red-headed Vamps printed out and posted all over our bedroom. He calls them "Models of Excellence." You can't imagine how much time I am having to spend on getting the look exactly right. I am a natural blonde and it is not easy passing for a red-head, even when the audience is willing and eager to suspend its disbelief. Any beauty tips would be greatly appreciated.
Posted by: Dick Minim | August 1, 2003 10:00 AM
I think I may have seen the vampy K once.
Posted by: Michelle | August 1, 2003 11:04 AM
When? That one time that I dressed up for class?
Posted by: Krista | August 1, 2003 11:53 AM
Right (if we're thinking of the same time): long black dress with a slit, high heels. I thought it was in preparatin to celebrate something and when I inquired, you thought I was asking you to go out and celebrate the end of class?
Ah, master minds at communication. ha.
Posted by: Chel | August 1, 2003 8:38 PM
what exactly is the defintion for vampy?
Posted by: shannon | December 23, 2003 9:40 PM