"wWeird" was always how I felt -- from the earliest age -- marked out not only by my acute shyness, but by the color of my hair. The irony was that what I had on my head made me conspicuous -- it suggested I should be bold and dangerous -- the antithesis of my nervy nature and propensity for tears whenever my (ginger) mother left me at the school gate.
Scott P. Harris still suffered taunts and jibes, dumb or cruel redhead jokes, and apathy or downright rejection from women. Was he going to just put up and shut up? He decided not only not to, but to document his redheadedness, its perils and positives, pejorative comments and possibilities for red-haired men.