One of the daughters is, in her teenage years, turning a wee bit rua. What had been dark hair now has the shine of freshly cut turf about it. She was distraught for a while. Her two sisters – one blonde, one dark – have taken to calling her “ginge”. A vile insult that this red-headed father will not have in his home.
‘Auburn’
Thankfully, I think she is coming to terms with her condition. I heard her saying hopefully to her own mum one day: “It’s more auburn than red, isn’t it?”
As a redhead, I was very annoyed when, a few years ago, the world’s largest sperm bank announced that they were refusing to accept any more donations from redheads. What an insult! People don’t want red-headed children – why not?
Impressive ratio
I was a beautiful child. Ask my mum. It is bad enough to know that the red-head gene is actually dying out but to realise that people are actively discouraging any more red-headed babies is just terrible.
My mother managed four redheads out of six children. A very impressive ratio you must admit.
True, my brother and I do have a little grey, silver thing going on with our locks at the moment while, amazingly, my younger sisters are as red as red can be and show no signs of becoming grey at all. I must ask them the secret of their success.
It is a pity that people don’t show redheads respect. After all, we are quintessentially Irish. (I, for example, have red hair, speak Irish and am in the GAA. You just can’t buy that kind of authenticity.)
Look at any German magazine with an advert for Irish whiskey and you will see redheads in Donegal tweed, standing at the edge of a peat bog, looking wistfully and redfully out into the Celtic other world. You wouldn’t get the same effect with black and blond hair.
How much more culturally impoverished would Ireland be without redheads?
Tourist industry
Would the Germans bother drinking Jameson’s or Bushmill’s without the red lure? What sort of damage would be done to the tourist industry if there were no redheads in the country?
My own sisters – those whose locks never fade – were once photographed while on holiday in Donegal by some American tourists who wanted “to show the folks back home the real Ireland”.
The Americans could not have been happier had they bumped into the little people dancing a jig with Fionn Mac Cumhaill and Maureen O’Hara.
That is the power of red. That is the little moment of “rua” that keeps the Americans and the Germans and just about everyone else coming to Ireland.
It is not about the whiskey or the céad míle fáilte, it is the chance to see a real redhead abroad in Ireland, to have a chance to photograph the Irish Yeti.
Tempers
Of course, people say that redheads have bad tempers. How often have I heard that from visitors from the continent?
And, after having punched them once or twice, I always say: “No, we are not bloody bad-tempered. Remember to tell that to your doctor back home!” I am, of course, joking. We redheads don’t cause trouble.
Oh, sure, we get a bad press. Rua is the Irish for red (haired) and also means “wild, fierce, strong, rough”. The ancient texts of Irish speak of “oíche rua” as being “a wild night, night of fierce brawling“; “cath rua” as a “fierce, bloody battle“; “Gaoth rua Mhárta” as a “wild, withering March wind” and “ruabhéic” as a “loud yell, wild roar”. (Literally, a red roar!)
So, perhaps, maybe a couple of thousand of years ago, some of us might have gotten together to sack Rome or pick a fight with the Normans or flash our nether regions at some Sasanach and we have been fighting the stereotype ever since then.
The Gooch
We reds are a lot more laid back now. Look at Kerry football, for example. The Gooch – long may his redhead shine – never causes any trouble while Paul “Black-haired” Galvin is never out of it!
Certainly, red-haired people may be a little fiery but what is life without a little spark now and again? There would be no fire without that first, red flash.
Redheads rock.