My son’s ginger hair is none of your business

‘ Ooh, you’re a right ginger knob, you are!

’
That’s what an elderly woman at the supermarket said to my son, Leo, who was about 18 months.

She didn’t smile or soften it with a little wink, just a frown with a little disapproving tut attached.

He was sitting in his pushchair and rather loudly babbling to himself, in that toddler way that makes most people smile – not tut as this woman had.

Of course, he had no idea what she said.

He just sat there smiling at her, enjoying the attention.

However, I was very taken aback that someone could look at a child and decide that is an acceptable thing to say.

It could have been easy to just laugh it off or smile and nod, but I refused.

Before I could formulate a response, she had wandered off towards the checkout.

As if she hadn’t just called my son a ‘knob’.

It quickly occurred to me that she meant ‘ knob ’ as an old-fashioned term for head – at least, I sincerely hope she did.

But, regardless of what she meant, it irked me that she chose to comment on my child’s appearance .

Sadly, though, it didn’t surprise me.

Ever since Leo was born, his ginger hair had been a topic of conversation.

Now nine, Leo’s hair is a gorgeous auburn colour in the cooler months – the kind that reminds you of autumn leaves – and in summer , it lightens to strawberry blonde.

But no matter what time of year it is, the comments don’t stop.

‘Where does the colour come from?’ is a common question asked.

Neither Leo’s dad, Stu, nor I are redheads , and his older sister, Ella, has dark brown hair.

It seems to cause some confusion, as if people are trying to solve a mystery.

Inevitably, it leads to: ‘ Are you sure he’s yours ?

’.

Always delivered with a chuckle, because of course it’s a joke.

Recessive genes are apparently a new concept, to some.

It’s not nice to have people insinuate that you’re not the parents of your child.

Neither for us as parents or for Leo, who is usually standing right there, already squirming because someone has, once again, made his hair the butt of a joke.

At school , Leo’s been called Ed Sheeran and a ginger ninja – not the worst insults, granted, and he is good at taking the banter to a degree.

But a couple of years ago, a girl told him that orange colour was ‘disgusting’, right after she told him boys shouldn’t have fringes and his forehead was massive.

He gave as good as he got, telling her it was because his brain was so big, but her words bothered him for weeks.

On a few occasions, people have even managed to equate his hair colour to his temperament – assuming that he must be ‘fiery’.

Well, if it is the case, he must have malfunctioned, because, for Leo, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I always put people straight, but my response is often met with an awkward laugh, as if I have taken a joke too seriously.

When Leo was little, he was blissfully unaware of the running commentary, but now he is not.

And like me, he sighs and gets fed up of having to explain why his hair is orange.

Now, when strangers start talking about his hair, he quietly leans into me, burying his head in my side.

He has an awareness that something about him has been singled out.

Unfortunately, the offenders rarely have the same awareness.

‘I’m not a rare species!’ he’d said to me – and he’s right.

Ginger hair is more common in England than anywhere else in the world: roughly 4% of the population is redheaded.

And yet people still behave as if it is ultra-rare.

I don’t believe that people mean any harm; it’s more society’s assumption that because it’s ‘just hair’, it’s harmless.

However, when the same feature is highlighted on repeat, it sends a subtle message that you are different.

I see how Leo shrinks or runs away when it’s mentioned.

He is quite vocal in private about how he doesn’t like people, especially strangers, remarking on his hair.

We always make sure to address it, talking about genetics and where his ginger hair comes from – emphasising that he is very much part of the family.

We discuss and celebrate difference, but we also talk about how we don’t comment on a person’s appearance (unless it is to pay a compliment, of course).

Leo’s hair really is gorgeous.

But it is the least interesting thing about him.

He is just a nine-year-old boy who loves cricket, nature and history, and who is kind, caring and funny.

I told him it was in the wrong hole - then I found out why
I wish people would see and comment on that.

It would light him up, rather than making him uncomfortable.

The woman in the supermarket was unaware of the impact of her comments.

But 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 colour is beautiful, then say so.

If you don’t, keep your mouth shut, smile and move on.

Don’t question their genetics, or assign them a personality, don’t imply that they must have been swapped at birth, and definitely don’t call them a knob.

Originally published March 1st 2026
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