What Is A Head Green?

What is a Head Green?

When I went into the 7th grade, Corpus Christi ISD decided to institute busing to more fully integrate the schools.  As a result, I was bused to Martin Jr. High on the Westside which is predominately Hispanic.  I’ve always gotten along with about everyone I encounter; so it wasn’t a big deal.  For that matter, the ratio of Anglos to Hispanics on the Southside where I lived was about 50/50, so the environment of my new school was really about the same as the junior high down the street.

Well, there’s no doubt that a small 7th grader with red hair will stick out at whatever school he or she goes to.  Curse of the ginger. And this one guy, Miguel, just wouldn’t leave me alone.  I think it was a 9th grader hazing a 7th grader thing more than a white/brown thing, but who knows.  After lunch, Miguel liked to strike intimidating poses around me and say things like “What.”  To which I would say, “Nothing.”  Then it escalated to him deciding to call me a rooster.  I’ll concede that you could draw some parallels between my striking red hair and a cockscomb.  

I didn’t like where this whole post-lunch thing was going, and the more he called me a rooster, the more it pissed me off, but there’s no doubt that if a fight ensued, I would take a brutal beating.  One day Miguel was staring at me, and I had enough.  I looked at him and said, “What! Is my head green?”  Now, Miguel should have said, “No, you’re head’s red, rooster.”  I don’t think I would’ve had a snappy retort for that, but instead he just clinched both fists and made a beeline for me.  Not good.

As I braced for my pounding, miracle of miracles, Roger Martinez, a 9th grade tuba player from the neighborhood, raced across the schoolyard and pancaked Miguel to the ground right in front of my eyes.  As Roger laid on top of Miguel, he told him not to mess with me anymore.  Roger had 9th grade “street cred,” and my lunch had just gotten a lot better.  My mom had told me that playing in the band would benefit someday.  As an aside, the Martin Jr. High Marching Band played in the Buccaneer Days Parade that year, and our showstopper finale was Play That Funky Music White Boy by Wild Cherry.    

I’ve always thought of “head green” as a euphemism for being different.  We all have our out of place, head green moments, and if you see it happening to someone, try to be their Roger.