Red hair is a rite of passage for South Asian women
Before the impulsive bangs, before Blonde took place, before anyone know what was sweeping, there was red hair. If you grew up in South Asia, your first hair color experience has probably come to a box, promising “Cherry Brown” but delivering everything, from Burgundy to brown, Auburn in mahogany. And, of course, it has left your bathroom feeling like chemicals and perhaps also a small rebellion.
No millennial woman could forget the striking red hair of Katrina Kaif Fitoor. Director Abhishek Kapoor later explain That its fiery color reflected the chinary leaves of cashmere, transforming with the seasons, symbolizing change, passion and chaos.
This is our Roman Empire. Not in the sense of the same (although yes, we think about it every week), but in the way it persists. Roux hair is not only a trend of beauty for South Asians. It is a rite of passage.
The ear piercings came for the first time, probably against your will. Then, if you were particularly courageous, the drilling of the nose, often sold as “traditional” to bypass a family argument. Then, an afternoon at the end of your adolescence or at the beginning of the twenties, you took precedence in red hair. This perfect average point between obedience and autonomy.
It was the ideal rebellion. Bold enough to feel new, subtle enough to survive family functions. You can always pass for “appropriate” unless the sun has caught you in the wrong direction. Then it was over: a crimson halo exhibiting your inner offender.
Before the strengths, sweeping or whitening, there was the color of the box. No living room meeting, no damage control; Just fragile gloves, an old t-shirt and a silent prayer, this would not become purple (this is probably the case). The shades – Chery, Auburn, mahogany – proceeded to a transformation on a budget.
This is why red hair was the first act of rebellion of each. No need for Big-Bad-Blaach of your hair or justify your decision to an aunt who thought you “look like a stranger” (God preserves us). You could always say that it was Mehendi, and everyone would accept it. You have entered the sunlight and let the color speak.
Red hair allows you to experience vanity, plunge a toe into self -expression and test the waters of change without complete transformation. No complete break, no spiritual crisis, no need for paperwork.
Even now, pass a pharmacy in Mumbai, Delhi, or any outpost of the suburban diaspora, and that’s it: this same dye box, which always promises an impossible glamor in a nuance that only the South Asians understand. Somewhere, a girl buys him for the first time. Somewhere, a woman buys him again, nostalgic for the days when red was a sweet rebellion.
