The Complexities of Pink

 “I fell off my pink cloud with a thud”
~Elizabeth Taylor

I think it is safe to say women have their own herstory with the color pink. From a young age I rebelled against the color pink as I found that it confined me. As a child in Elementary School I didn’t have the acquired language to articulate how I felt. As all kids do in their own way, I certainly had the power of visual observance.  For those of us who have been blessed with sight, we are able to make distinctions on that level.

I had a brief love affair with pink before I developed a distaste for it. I no longer puke at the sight of pink but I don’t fully embrace it either. I will get into that a little later.

In my Pre-school and Kindergarten years I enjoyed pink and purple. They were my favorite colors. I cannot recall how often I incorporated pink and purple into my life, but I do remember liking Hello Kitty, Popples, She-Ra,  Jem and the Holograms, My Little Pony, Rainbow Brite, and Strawberry Shortcake.  I think with the exception of Rainbow Brite all of these figures exhibited shades of pink.

My brief affinity for pink in my very early years coincided with my admiration of Barbie. Barbie was the only dress up toy I had and although Barbie is a terrible image to appreciate, I do think she served a purpose. I not only dressed up my Barbies, but I used them to “play pretend”. I took them shopping, I used them to interact with other toys, and I acted out fun scenarios which came from my imagination. All good stuff if you ask me.

By the time I hit Elementary school, there was a shift. I did away with the pink. My mother, for so long had dressed me in foofy, frilly, lacy clothing and she loved the compliments she received from teachers, friends and relatives. The only thing that mattered to me was that my dresses had enough “swish”.  I would stand in front of a mirror and rapidly twist my hips in attempts to see how much free flow the dress allowed me. My mother found this irritating and I found it irritating that I couldn’t pick out my own clothes.

When I entered the first grade, for whatever reasons, my mother allowed me to make some decisions about my outward appearance. I still claimed that pink and purple were my favorite colors but I didn’t utilize them in anyway.

I began spending time with a girl who considered herself to be a “Tomboy”. This was my first exposure to an alternative - to the traditional “girlie” presentation. I preferred it. We ran around and played “pretend.” I didn’t give myself the label of "Tomboy", as my understanding was that a "Tomboy" loved sports as my friend did. I had no interest in sports, nor did I have the confidence to play sports. Although, "Tomboy" was just another label, it was a different viewpoint than the one I originally had.

After school my friend and I would race home, change into our “play clothes” and romp around without any hint or thought of pink. Whenever we were confronted with pink we turned the other direction. Pink was "girlie". "Girlie" we were not. We rebelled from an early age.

Eventually, I maneuvered through the rough terrain of Jr. High and then High School. When I entered High School, I continued to despise pink -  except when it landed on my head. I dyed my hair magenta and I fell in love with the color.  Before I discovered other colors like midnight blue, purple, chili pepper red, and others, I stuck with various shades of pink.

For the most part I didn’t like pink and I didn’t like what I thought it stood for. Pink continued to represent "girlie", "girlie" meant a box, and a box meant no way out. Sporting a pink hair-do was definitely not traditional. Although, I didn’t consider it to be an act of rebellion, I suppose it was.

Throughout High School and College my ensembles went from thrift shop punk to goth-esque. I wore dark clothes, and pink was not in my vocabulary.

It isn’t until now, at age 30, that pink has thinly slithered its way into my sights again. I am obsessed with cupcakes and more so as an aesthetic than anything else. Pink is a common colored frosting and I do enjoy it. And after all these years, my obsession with Hello Kitty has not dissipated, but has actually intensified. Ms. Kitty is definitely a pink lovin’ gal. Lastly, I have a fondness for pastels which include mint green (my  favorite color), lavender and as of late, variations of pink. 

I admit I hesitate to explore the avenues of pink with both feet in. Pink still represents stereotypical femininity and it is a color that women are often expected to enjoy. Not only is this confining and insulting, but it is unfair to men. Sexist norms expect women to enjoy pink and expect men to want to nothing to do with it.

Even with this stigma; over recent years I have noticed some allowing for men in pink. It seems that in some cases pink is a distinguished color for daring high powered men. I am a psychiatric social worker and I continue to witness psychiatrists, medical doctors, nurse practitioners, and other male clinicians wearing pink dress shirts. Whenever I see a man in a pink dress shirt, I often wish I could interview the guy and find out why he chose pink; if he truly feels comfortable with it; and what it was that brought him that place. I am intrigued because high levels of wretched machismo tells us that pink is more often than not, off limits for men.

I am curious if the men who wear pink are only comfortable wearing pink in a certain way. Would the man in the professional pink dress shirt wear a pink polo on his off days? Is a pink undershirt out of the question? I imagine that men who purchase pink shirts, cannot help but be aware that pink is often a color reserved for women. 

For the most part I avoid pink in my wardrobe. This is partly because I am not remarkably in love with the color and I only appreciate dabs of it. I also avoid it because of its stereotypical implications. I suppose in some respects this means that I am adhering to the stereotype. And what sense does it make if I concede that pink for women =  a stereotypical boxing-in, and yet pink for men = daring and feminist. If one is truly feminist, can’t both be? A woman who is fully aware of the pink stereotype and yet decides to wear pink is not anti-feminist.  In fact, perhaps she is the true she-ro.  

A woman who wishes to avoid the societal trapping of pink, but yet, wears pink is truly exceptional. In other words, a woman of this kind does not give a damn as to what others think of her. I am not this woman. I suppose I have a lot of growing up to do. If I ever change my mind and decide that pink is a color I enjoy more than I do now; I hope that I will have the - oh so pink ovaries, to wear it.