Writing the Self 2: Pink Hair


I jump off the yellow school bus for the first time. I rode the bus all by myself, not as scary as I thought it would be. One step at a time, I follow the other kid towards the playground. There so many things to do and obstacles to play on. Monkey bars, slides, swings, teeter-totters, ladders, and I don’t know what that thing is but looks fun. All the bars and slides are bright colours of red, green, yellow and blue. All colours that contrast the pale tone of my skin. I look at the girl beside me and see my favourite colour, pink.


She has on a pink shirt, pink shorts and pink… hair? She is far more colourful than anyone else on the playground. The girl climbs on the monkey bars across from me, pulls herself up and hangs from her knees. Her hair is done in long, thick, pink braids. I am jealous. I want pink hair. Why can’t I have hair like that? As she swings back and forth, her braids come up and hit her back, then come back around and brush against the dark skin on her face.
  

She looks like she is having fun, plus she has cool hair so I think I am going to go play with her. I walk up and climb onto the monkey bars. I hook my legs around the bars, fall back, and swing beside her. “Hi, I like your hair,” I begin. She looks over and smiles, “Thank you. My mom made it look special for my first day. Do you want to play jump-rope?” she asks. I nod excitedly and hop off the bars to follow her. I walk behind her and notice that we look very different. Her body is tanned and taller than mine. She also speaks in a slight accent. I watch in awe as her hair swings back and forth on her back, mesmerized by the colour.


Once we get to the jump ropes we hear the harsh sound of a bell ring. As the bell sounds, we run to the door and look for our teachers. I stand in line behind Madame Flaman’s morning kindergarten class, and the girl stands behind me. Madame Flaman puts us into alphabetical order, which places the pink-haired girl beside me. I look around and notice the other kids in my class. My classmates who look like the pink-haired girl definitely don’t have pink hair. However, they do have long braids like her, and dark skin too. It must be because of the way she looks that she can have her hair like that. No one who looks like me has pink hair.


We follow the teacher into the classroom and I am placed in a seat beside the pink haired girl. Her name tag says “Key-Jana”. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. We have the same first and last initials, we are in the same class, and the same age. I decide that when I go home, I am going to ask my parents if I can get pink hair too. That way I can look just like Key-Jana.

Comments

  1. AnonymousMay 21, 2019 at 9:20 PM

    Testing.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Chandria YangMay 22, 2019 at 1:31 PM

    Kelsey, this is a great story. I really enjoyed reading it!

    Throughout the story you were able to capture the innocence of children and how they do not see differences as obstacles in the people around them. I felt like I could relate to your story because I too met my best friend, who also has pink hair at times, on the playground at recess.

    The beginning of the story was extremely rich in description. Especially when you were describing all the structures on the playground as well as their, "bright colours of red, green, yellow and blue." I felt as though I was right there on the playground with you. I would have enjoyed if the descriptive text continued more throughout the story to truly bring the reader in.

    Excellent job on the story! Thank you for sharing.

    ReplyDelete

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