The Pink Perspective: Embracing The Bewitching Power Of Femininity
How I learned that I never hated the color pink.
“I’m not like other girls.”
As a kid, I thought I hated the color pink. Pink represented being a girl, and that was inadequate. It told the world that I was weak, less-than, silenced. I loathed being counted out before playing the game.
Despite the vast progress in women’s rights, women are still treated as a weaker sex and gender identity. Little me refused to be seen as weak. I remember wanting to shop in the boy’s section for clothes, refusing to wear open-toed shoes, not wanting to style my hair, and even not wanting to be friends with girls.
Being “one of the guys” was a status. It meant that I was not like other girls, and I considered that to be a positive thing. The language around femininity was always excessively negative and the only positivity in the conversation centered around ways women were able to perform for others.
Men are assertive, women are bossy. Men are persuasive, women are manipulative. Men are inquiring, women are nosy.
Leaders or bossy? Confident or bitchy? Asking or demanding? The semantics surrounding the conversational descriptors when comparing masculine and feminine identities is pervasive despite the progress we as a society appear to have made.
I’m exactly like other girls.
As I grew up, I learned that I did not hate the color pink, but what pink signified.
It took some inner reflection as I started to understand my own identity. Where does this frustration come from? Why are men afraid of femininity? Why can men just exist as is? Why is living like half of the human population incorrect?
Upon investigating that logic, in which men being interested in traditionally feminine things is borderline nefarious, I realized there’s one subsequent question that often isn’t asked: What’s wrong with being a woman?
It is fascinating to see how society changes what is considered to be unreasonable for women, or deficient for men. At one point, women were not allowed own property, have a bank account, work in most jobs, vote, live independently, or even continue their education. In some parts of the world, this is still the case.
I realized that a fight against being like other girls is a fight against women around the world. What is the point of winning the battle if we all lose the war?
I am like other girls. Like some other girls, I like reading. Sometimes that is romance novels and sometimes that is non-fiction literature that explores the discourse on various anthropological topics. I like cooking for others and I hate cooking for myself. I like appreciation and I hate compliments. I like doing my makeup and I hate painting my nails.
Some women partake in these things, some resonate with none, and I relate to all of them.
Yes, you should want to be like other girls.
There is not one presentation that encompasses all of femininity. The identity of womanhood, in all of its forms, is art. The color pink is not one that should represent the negatives of women, but rather as a badge of honor that connects all of us. We should embrace the very things used to divide us in a system that was never designed to benefit us.
Femininity is just as beautiful as any other human presentation. As soon as you label something as feminine, it should be seen as a neutral descriptor rather than as an insult.
Women are: confident, graceful, leaders, learners, educated, opinionated, and determined.
Women are essential and valuable.
I now embrace the title of “woman” wholeheartedly. It defines part of who I am. I no longer see it as a title to compete with men, other women, or myself.
The more that women demand respect for their autonomy and interests, in the ways that men do without thinking, the more we place our seats at the table. In order to be a part of the conversation, we need to continue the dialogue.
