Why am I watching Legally Blonde again? Yes, yes, I have to admit, I sort of like it, but there is something else going on here and I suppose that takes me to a deeper level, therefore defeating the purpose of my resting but nevermind.
It seems that whenever I am sick with a cold or a flu just generally not feeling well, I pull out the bad movies, or not bad, just not high-brow, I guess, and that sounds snotty because it is, because sad to say that too many of the films that I watch and the books that I read are more literary (read: snotty, at times). But one must relax every now and then and develop a good and healthy sense of humor and as a partial blonde (mostly prematurely grey and now aided with highlights; I started graying at age sixteen) I suppose I sort of relate to Elle Woods because all my life people took darker haired people more seriously and while this may be a small form of prejudice, it’s by no means where this article stops. I’ve even dyed my naturally light auburn hair dark in order to be taken more seriously, yet nobody judges me for that. Why is it that high-lights or blonding decreases intellect, but darker shades seem to equally increase intellect?
For me, coming from a family of blondes and ginger –headed and freckled individuals , I was always very sensitive that my coloring gave away too much about who I was and where I am from. You could guess, pretty much, that I was not say from Tahiti or Vietnam or anywhere where people have darker hair and darker skin. You can tell easily that I’m Celtic and be it English or French or whatever, it doesn’t matter because Celtic is Celtic and when I was growing up, being Celtic meant you were shit. It meant you were plain and not exotic or interesting but just ordinary, a “spud digger”, digging potatoes out of the ground your whole life, and then getting old and fat and losing your teeth and living in a house that reeks of cabbage all the time. This is what I imagine. This is what others imagine, or what I imagine they imagine, I’m not sure which.
I hate that. I hate that there were Londoners who thought they were better than us because they lived in London proper and we lived in the outskirts and more, that my family was, oh no, from Scotland, so we were really poor-cousins and more. Any minority can speak to these feelings and whether it is recognized or not, I am , at least in this country, in the minority. I’m not really British because I’m Scottish and even though England claims Scotland it’s a bit like being from Northern Ireland and not feeling like you have ever had or ever will have a country of your own that you can call home.