This is how it started for me. I put a little pink in my hair and the world went crazy. You’d think the sun fell out of the sky or something.
Apparently, you can dye your hair black, brown, yellow, red or a combination of any of those, but you can’t have any of the colors of the rainbow above your neck. Especially after you reach a certain age, and if you do more than just a streak or two, and if your hair is light to begin with.
There are rules.
It’s so funny to me when I watch other people react to colored hair and to clothes, like pajama pants, being worn in public–things deemed “not acceptable” by society that bring whispers and stares from the loftiest of humans and a few of the less lofty as well.
It’s as if y’all think Jesus can’t love you if you’re wearing your pajamas outside of your house.
Okay, to be fair, I don’t wear my pj’s in public, but I am going to say this: they’re just pants.
They’re pajama pants because that’s what we named them. Y’all get that, don’t you? Somehow Sponge Bob makes them socially unacceptable, or plaid flannel does, or something. But they’re just pants!
We make up the rules. Somebody does. I’m pretty sure I never would’ve said you couldn’t have pink hair. It’s delightful! I also like lime green hair, but it’s not a great color for my face. Orange is my favorite color, but I’m not sure I’d want it on my head. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see it on someone else’s head though. People are no less human because of their choice of hair color, or because they wear pajamas to Walmart.
The condemnation we throw at others because of their personal choices is ridiculous. As if clothes and hair matter. There are a whole lot of things in this world that do matter, just not those. I have a huge list of them, but what I’ve found is that it’s also socially unacceptable to talk about the things that are important. It’s only good to talk about things which don’t matter anyway, because you can be busy offending people about the stupid things they do that don’t amount to anything and totally ignore the ones that are dragging them to hell.
After all, you have to be politically correct….
A fine line exists between what you can say and what you can’t anymore, and I guess that’s why people fixate on stupid stuff and don’t address the important issues. Don’t look at me to point them out—I’m not even allowed to be political at all.
It’s my job.
I signed a piece of paper twenty years ago that said I can’t speak aloud any political view because I represent the state I live in. I’m okay with that, but when I finally retire, I can’t wait to unleash all I’ve been holding in. This dam is gonna break with a fury y’all have never seen before, at least for a few minutes, until I get a few years worth of frustration out of my system.
But you know what I’m not going to gripe about?
Pink hair and pajama bottoms. That’s what.
Because I don’t care.