Here we go again.
That’s what my friends said when I told them about writing this post.
Pink Vendetta, Volume 987.
I really don’t have a vendetta against pink. I do, however, have a problem when it is used, not as a symbol of empowerment, but rather as a tool of conformity.
I was merrily strolling through Target last week when I happened upon a rack of pink basketballs, volleyballs, and soccer balls. Just as I was about to take out my camera-phone to document this annoyance, my gaze drifted to the top of the rack and that’s when my blood started to boil.
It’s not that I don't like pink, and to be honest, if they had pink caps when I was small, my parents probably would have gotten one for me because it seems like the perfect marriage for a girl who likes baseball. And in a lot of ways it is, but not if it’s made to seem like the norm for a girl who likes sports.
Little girls are growing up now with a distorted perception of what they should look like and how they should act, being told that they have to fit within the confines of unattainable stereotypes. There are very few women in the world who would live up to modelesque expectations, and those of us who don’t are left feeling inadequate, constantly striving to be something we’re not. By the time we are old enough to accept our bodies the way they are, we’ve wasted half our lives worrying about fulfilling whatever fickle definition of perfection is in fashion at the time.
The message on that Target sign seems innocuous enough, but it’s actually propagating the distorted perceptions that women are taught to pursue. You can be bold and you can be athletic, but make sure you look pretty in pink while you’re doing it because that’s what girls are expected to be.
Athletes are not pretty when they’re playing. They’re sweaty. They’re smelly. They’re gritty. They’re beautiful for their drive and determination, but they’re not going to make the cover of Cosmo with drops of perspiration rolling down their faces and dirt on their legs. And that’s okay. They don’t have to be.
* * *
On Saturday, I ran through the streets of Downtown Washington in a sea of pink, sweating alongside over 60,000 participants in the Susan G. Komen National Race for the Cure. For those who have conquered the disease and for those who have been left behind, pink is a symbol of courage and determination, not of conformity.
That pink is truly bold and beautiful.
2 comments:
I haven't had time to look up an original source, but I was reading that PINK used to be the masculine color. It is because red is very manly--blood, fire, etc... the rich men got their clothing dyed in the first batch (turned out red), but in subsequent batches, the color faded to pink. Yet, it was still a "manly" color, just not as vibrant. Blue-water, calm, etc... used to be for women!
Reminds me of one of my biggest pet peeves: the pink sports jersey. Pink for breast cancer is fine. Pink for a baseball jersey is not. When my team's colors become pink and white, I'll wear a pink jersey- until that time, I will look at those jerseys with disgust.
Post a Comment