Blue Hair Discrimination

Lauren King

I’ve never been one to blend in. Whether it was my outrageous red lipstick or my donkey-like laugh, I was different from the crowd. Through my five years of high school I held my true self back from shining. 

Well, seven months free and I have never been more myself. Step one: cut hair short. Step two: dye short hair pink. Step three: dye short pink hair purple. Step four: dye short purple hair green AND pink. Step five: dye short green AND pink hair blue. Now, with my hair reflecting a very damaged, but very blue, ocean, it is time to be stared at and judged.

As much as I like to stand out, I don’t like drawing unnecessary attention to myself. So when I get on the train I sit with my earphones in, my head down and my mouth shut. Until one day…

*magical, twinkly music, cueing flashback*

It was a typical Tuesday afternoon, I was in a bad mood due to the lack of sleep and coffee my body was so heavily craving and, to be honest, wasn’t going to put up with any nonsense. I sat at a table on the train (population: 12), minding my own business, listening to the angelic voice of one Brendon Urie when this, shall we say, mature lady sat opposite me. I looked up and smiled at her, relieved it wasn’t someone I knew. 

She sighed. 

I continued to keep to myself, despite her unremitting tuts and scoffs, but I had soon had enough and removed one of my earphones to calmly ask: “Excuse me, is there a problem?”. 

Her response? “I just don’t know why you would do that to your body, it’s offensive”. Me, being the sarcastic girl that I am, dramatically searched for the giant swastika tattooed on my cheek. But there wasn’t one. Rather, she thought it was her place to critique my hair – my awesome, blue hair.

“You’ll never get a job”, was her first argument. Little does she know, I am a respected server at a popular Mexican restaurant who have been with me through my many hair colours.

“You’re giving children the message that this is okay,” was her second. “I’m afraid, dear, that every single child that I have had the pleasure of encountering has loved my hair. One even described it as “mermaid hair”.

“You’re just looking for attention”, was the final straw. I removed the other earphone, meaning I was ready to kick some wrinkly butt, and started my built-up response with “hun”. I proceeded to explain, at length, that she was out of order to criticise to my looks but just as I was about to end my Shakespeare-worthy monologue, I was told by another passenger to “respect my elders”.

It’s hard to comprehend why she felt the need to express such disgust, and why she has this disgust in the first place. However, it has made me realise that you can’t please everyone and the only person that you need to worry about pleasing is yourself. 

The other lesson learned? That old ladies are extremely judgemental. Since that ordeal I have been considering dying my hair back to a “normal” colour, but decided instead to get my nose pierced.

Anyway.

Moral of the story: be yourself

~mermaid-hair Lauren~