A Mother's Frustration with Constant Comments on Her Son's Ginger Hair
"Ooh, you're a right ginger knob, you are!" Those were the words an elderly woman directed at my son, Leo, when he was just 18 months old in a supermarket. She didn't smile or offer a friendly wink—just a frown accompanied by a disapproving tut. Leo was sitting in his pushchair, happily babbling to himself in that endearing toddler way that usually brings smiles, not criticism. Of course, he had no idea what she said, simply smiling back at her, enjoying the attention. However, I was stunned that someone could look at a child and deem such a comment acceptable.
The Ongoing Commentary
Before I could formulate a response, she had wandered off toward the checkout, as if she hadn't just called my son a "knob." I quickly realized she likely meant "knob" as an old-fashioned term for head—at least, I sincerely hope so. Regardless, it irked me that she chose to comment on my child's appearance. Sadly, this incident didn't surprise me. Ever since Leo was born, his ginger hair has been a constant topic of conversation.
Now nine years old, Leo's hair is a gorgeous auburn color in the cooler months, reminiscent of autumn leaves, and lightens to strawberry blonde in summer. Yet, no matter the season, the comments never cease. A common question is, "Where does the color come from?" Neither Leo's dad, Stu, nor I are redheads, and his older sister, Ella, has dark brown hair. This seems to cause confusion, as if people are trying to solve a mystery.
Inappropriate Jokes and Assumptions
Inevitably, it leads to, "Are you sure he's yours?"—always delivered with a chuckle, because it's supposedly a joke. Recessive genes appear to be a new concept for some. It's not pleasant to have people insinuate that you're not the parents of your child, affecting both us as parents and Leo, who often stands there squirming as his hair becomes the butt of a joke.
At school, Leo has been called Ed Sheeran and a ginger ninja—not the worst insults, granted, and he handles banter to a degree. But a couple of years ago, a girl told him his orange color was "disgusting," right after remarking that boys shouldn't have fringes and his forehead was massive. He retorted that it was because his brain was so big, but her words bothered him for weeks. On several occasions, people have even equated his hair color to his temperament, assuming he must be "fiery." If that's the case, he must have malfunctioned, because for Leo, that couldn't be further from the truth.
The Impact on Leo
I always correct people, but my response is often met with an awkward laugh, as if I'm taking a joke too seriously. When Leo was little, he was blissfully unaware of the running commentary, but now he is not. Like me, he sighs and gets fed up with having to explain why his hair is orange. When strangers start talking about his hair, he quietly leans into me, burying his head in my side, aware that something about him has been singled out.
Unfortunately, the offenders rarely share this awareness. Recently, after an interrogation from the grandmother of one of his friends, we had a debrief in the car after a playdate. She had asked numerous questions, and he clearly found it overwhelming—he said he ran away from her rather than answer. "I'm not a rare species!" he told me, and he's right. Ginger hair is more common in England than anywhere else in the world, with roughly 4% of the population being redheaded. Yet, people still behave as if it's ultra-rare.
A Call for Sensitivity
I don't believe people mean harm; it's more society's assumption that because it's "just hair," it's harmless. However, when the same feature is highlighted repeatedly, it sends a subtle message that you are different. Children absorb that. I see how Leo shrinks or runs away when it's mentioned. He is quite vocal in private about disliking people, especially strangers, remarking on his hair.
We always address it, discussing genetics and where his ginger hair comes from—emphasizing that he is very much part of the family. We celebrate differences but also talk about how we don't comment on a person's appearance unless it's to pay a compliment. Leo's hair is gorgeous, but it's the least interesting thing about him. He is a nine-year-old boy who loves cricket, nature, and history, and who is kind, caring, and funny.
I wish people would see and comment on that. It would light him up rather than make him uncomfortable. The woman in the supermarket was unaware of the impact of her comments. Instead of observing how happy and content he was, she chose to voice her thoughts on his hair. If you think a child's hair color is beautiful, say so. If you don't, keep your mouth shut, smile, and move on. Don't question their genetics, assign them a personality, imply they were swapped at birth, and definitely don't call them a knob.
