Grab your sense of humor because I figured out one way to exorcise our society of a sense of unworthiness. That way, we can all stop blocking each other from becoming the unique beauty, inside and out, that we were created to be.
Recently, I pondered the cultural chains around women’s ankles. Even in today’s world, after wading through eons of this rejection, my eyes tripped over a common stereotype on my TV screen. I refer you to the 2020 picture of women in this post. I saw we are still more acceptable as blondes with straight hair to many.
“I got me a blonde” has been an attitude and source of pride for many men for decades, subconsciously fueled by pictures like that above. Let me qualify what I’m about to say here so I’m clear. I’m not saying women who dye their hair blonde are wrong. Not at all. I’m saying we shouldn’t be told we are more worthy if we do.
This post is about the reason why and how this prejudice can fuel a sense of unworthiness. Are we dying our hair because we think we have to, or is it just for fun? One can keep us from becoming who we truly are; the other can express artistic freedom.
Sadly, many women of all races have dyed and straightened their hair to feel a sense of worth and acceptance…or used that to get advantages because they thought they had to.
Why? Because, in my opinion, it was a lie forced on us early on.
Unfortunately, the uniqueness of a true blonde, brunette, or redhead has been swallowed up in a sea of blonde hair dye. Metaphorically—for all of you who like to look below the surface—this can apply to many other cultural problems and both genders, so bear with me for a solution.
The solution is not mixed in a bottle of hair dye. In a lighthearted moment today, I had a better idea for an answer to this dilemma. Turn about is fair play, they say, so imagine with me for a minute, just for fun.
(Warning: do not try this at home.)
What if women made it a requirement for a man to be a skinny, redhead with curly hair to be highly desirable? Of course, they would all have to act like they were dumb because of their hair color. Imagine we decided that was good, and we picked accordingly while we relentlessly advertised in that vein for fifty years. Suppose we called them “gingers” to make being a redhead sound more popular. Blonde men and brunettes would be scorned as less desirable. Redhead movie actors and male protagonists in books become the objects of affection.
Bottles of red hair dye would fly off the shelves in every shade—red, auburn, ginger. 😳 Hair pick prices would skyrocket. Man’s ego would plummet into a bottle of perm mix. All hairstyle magazines would be for curly hair with an occasional one for straight.
Women in t-shirts and baggy shorts or jeans would sit in restaurants, at concerts, and on park benches scanning a crowd filled with male redheads for just the right one. He would turn his head to toss her a steamy glance as corkscrew curls fell over his hazel eyes.
A Proposed Change:
I wish I had been more like my dog, though she was rejected because she wasn’t breed-standard. Some breeders even drown pups who looked like her, but she was oblivious to the rejection. Harvest went on to be so fun, lovable, and adored by all who met her. Yet she escaped near death because of the color and length of her hair?
Me? Born as a freckle-faced brunette with curly hair, I never got into bleach, but I had my days of red hair dye and straightening irons to meet the “breed-standard.”
As I aged, I had hairdressers tell me I’d look older with gray hair, but I realized I looked older with dyed hair! So here I am in all my gray glory, becoming 95% me, still straightening my hair on occasion as I struggle against that cultural acceptability clause.
There is an easier, healthier change where everyone wins. My proposal? What if we all decide together to love and value ourselves and each other in the personal uniqueness with which we were born? What a wonderful, interesting, inspiring world that would be—free of jealousy, pride, control, inferiority.
I’d like that world. How about you?
Find me mostly on Twitter at: @hislightscribe. I’m sort of on Instagram and LinkedIn and a little more on Facebook, but then again, that’s part of what makes me unique.