The Importance of Being Ginger

So it has been brought to my attention that I am what is considered to be a "Ginger". For those of you who do not know what a Ginger is let me take this time to give a brief overview. A Ginger is someone with very pale skin, freckles, red hair, no soul, and a very large penis. I kid, I kid, I'm pretty sure we have souls. Although I'm not entirely sure. I might have lost my soul at that bar the other night much like what happens to my credit card (And Dignity). Anyway.

So what's it like to be a Ginger, you ask?

Well it's no walk in the park. First off I was not born a Ginger and I've only become a Ginger in the past couple of years. Before that I was a normal functioning member of society until G-Day. I was working at a gas station happy and content with my life thus far. Until a customer walked in and refused to be served by me because I was a "Ginger". I motioned to ask the man what this "Ginger" was, but he left in a fit of disgust. So I went home and did some research and watched the startling documentary of modern Ginger life in America. "Ginger Kids" was the name of the documentary; it was filmed by Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Long story short Gingers are not born Gingers we are ascribed this position in life by a social construct.

But now I've been thrust into this life of a Ginger in society. Being a Ginger is particular because Gingers are defined by what we are not. And what we are not is white. Yes, we may be pale, or perhaps clear, (Depending on the severity of Gingerlyness) but we are not white. Gingers are even scoffed at by other white people. Gingers are not accepted by any other social circle but other Ginger people. This is unfortunate because we are a kind and gentle people. We can offer others stronger sunblock and haircare products. (Oh and theres a slim chance that we can make children that also have red hair) If only we could break these social barriers down. (Like a Ginger Reagan) 

Although the social barriers for Gingers are stark we find a way to live. We just try to go about our days like any other person. We have jobs and pale families. We go swimming and biking. We sleep and have super powers, just like everyone else. If only we could see how much we have in common maybe we could learn to love one another. Red and white and black and yellow and pale hands, clinched together in a sign of unity. (But not too hard; might leave a mark)