Nearly every guy you encounter in a social setting opens with the same two questions: "Is that your natural hair color?" or "Is it the same color...down there?" Although people in general never put much worth in the color of someone's pubic hairs, you have learned through your redhead experiences that apparently men care A LOT about the hue of your pubes, so long as they're red.
Everyone wants a cool nickname, but if you're a redhead, you're calling card is going to be "red" or "ginger," two nicknames that couldn't be adorable if they tried. From your co-ed kickball team to the CVS cashier, you're going to be called "red" or "ginger," and you're not going to like it.
Regardless of your feelings on the Disney Princesses, you will always be Ariel. Always. Yes, the half-fish with a hoarding issue who was probably abused by her suspiciously muscular father (Triton looks good for a 40-billion year old sea king). No one cares if you really identify with Belle, or that Mulan resonates with your inner feminist. You have red hair. You're Ariel. Get over it.
Much like the Slutty Redhead or the Bitchy Redhead, the Feisty Redhead has become an everyday archetype of our society. Coworkers, friends, strangers in a bar--they are all expecting you to just lose your shit over the smallest thing. Maybe redheads do have a lower tolerance for BS, but that's only because we're tired of being asked, "so...have you seen that 'South Park' episode when--" YES. YES I HAVE SEEN IT. AND NO I'M NOT A DAYWALKER. AND YES IT WAS HILARIOUS.
Being a redhead is a coveted thing, as it is so rare and seemingly shrouded in myth. When a blonde or brunette dyes her hair red, she has this false belief that she suddenly understands what it is to be a redhead, that she has that redhead fire, that she's feistier and sexier and....Stop. Just stop it. Until you have to reapply 150 SPF every 15 minutes INDOORS, then we'll talk.