Seeing Red

I come from red-headed people. Not Carrot Top redheads, but the russet to auburn spectrum. My mom used to describe my dad’s teenage hair as “like an Irish Setter,” and I had a flame-haired great aunt who was in the roller derby. So, apparently, I come from people with recessive genes who also skate roller derby. Although those might be the same thing. But, I digress. Even my hair, before it rudely developed an inch and a half of gray roots which turn pink if I try to stay red, has always naturally been more auburn than anything else. And I have intentionally gone more vibrantly red at times because I think it suits me. Something about being a red-headed woman sends a message to the world. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had complete strangers remark on an action or statement of mine with some reference to knowing “how redheads are.” And no woman who is trying to blend chooses to go red. Just as studies have shown that women in red get approached more often by men, red hair seems not only to send a signal but emboldens the head it’s on. While being a redhead isn’t always met with social approval, I’m enough of a general oddball that I have always embraced it. And my favorite redhead of literature is Ludwig Bemelmans' little French powerhouse Madeline. She is brave and brassy and as unconventional as a girl from two-straight-lines land can be. Vive la rouge!

http://www.amazon.com/Madeline-Reissue-Ludwig-Bemelmans-Illustrator/dp/0670445800

http://www.madeline.com/

Badly Behaved Women Unite!

When I was little, nothing would make me more mad than not being taken seriously. It’s easy to believe that I was prone to the dramatic, but it infuriated me to have what seemed very real angst made light of because I was “overreacting.” One of the most common nicknames for me (which made me crazy, even before I knew why) was “Sarah Bernhardt,” in honor of the legendary stage and film actress known as “The Divine Sarah.” Can’t a girl get her passionate on without being called a diva? If a long history of popular media is to be believed, the sassy girl with attitude always triumphs in the end (think Scarlett O’Hara, Norma Rae or those doctors from Grey’s Anatomy), but being one my whole life, and having to live with the consequences, I don’t know if I totally buy it. Historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich is credited with claiming that, “Well-behaved women seldom make history,” and I believe that, but it’s a hard road sometimes. One spunky girl who has thrived over time, while surviving some serious scrapes, is the French redhead with gumption, Madeline. She first lined up with the other eleven girls in 1938, but is still adventuring thanks to the original author’s grandson, John Bemelmans Marciano, who wrote Madeline And The Cats Of Rome. There are camera thieves, street urchins, mistaken identities, and mishaps galore--but Scarlett never doubted that Madeline would figure it all out in the end. That’s all there is, there isn’t anymore.


http://www.amazon.com/Madeline-Cats-Rome-Bemelmans-Marciano/dp/0670062979

http://biography.jrank.org/pages/2080/Marciano-John-Bemelmans-1970.html