Pink for women, women for pink

Pink is a tough cookie. The amount of shit the colour pink has to go through everyday. Let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to be in Pink’s shoes. Thinking about it though, why is there such a hatred towards the colour pink? Why is it still seen as some weird symbol of oppression? And most of all, why is it wrong to like something so deeply associated with femininity?

For those of you who knew me at a personal level, you will already know about this, but for those of you who don’t: I feel a strong sense of aversion when it comes to feminism. This might be intertwined with the fact that I can’t stand when people tell me exactly how to do something, something which supposed feminists at various moments tend to do.

A ‘lovely’ example of this is this weird idea that the colour pink is a wrong colour for women. Growing up with the colour pink would make you a submissive housewife, unable to speak out and dependent of men. Let me just repeat that. Growing up with the colour pink would make you a submissive housewife, unable to speak out and dependent of men. May I just point out, okay, that I grew up playing with dolls in PINK dresses, having PINK walls, wearing PINK clothes. May I also point out that I am not in a relationship and I don’t feel lost because I’m alone, I have worked since I was 15 just because I could and I -obviously- have an opinion about a lot of things that the world may hear. So, again, growing up with the colour pink would make you a submissive housewife, unable to speak out and dependent of men. No. It does not. It is a colour. Get over yourself. Life becomes what you make of it. A colour is not going to change a single thing about it.

Frankly, looking back in rather recent history, pink is ‘the girl’s colour’. And yes, in the fifties women were indeed forced to be dependent housewives. But it is arguable how much of that is to do with the colour pink. Again, it is a colour. It is the association that dates back seventy years ago, that makes ‘responsible feminists’ nowadays patronise the women who do care for a pink dress or, god forbid, put their baby daughters in something pink. It has grown to be a crime in the 2017 society and I think that is utter nonsense. The colour pink is more about femininity than it is about being a housewife, but in the end, it is about nothing more than it just being a colour. A cool, fun colour or, if you like, a terribly ugly colour. Whatever you may think of it, you must agree that in its base, it is a colour.

Wherever it may derive from, pink is in someway associated with femininity. There is nothing more compelling to play with, than femininity. Because of that strong association, the colour pink can make women feel complete and in my case, even fierce. I don’t feel oppressed by the colour pink. I feel oppressed by feminism, telling me what I can and can’t like, telling me what I should find empowering. In my closet, I have a bright paining-your-eyes pink suit. Nothing in the world can make me feel as invincible as that suit. Not because it is a suit, but because it’s pink. A little because the pink pisses off certain women but mostly because it gives me a feeling that Shania Twain captured greatly: ‘Man, I feel like a woman.’

A note to this article
This article is solely about Western feminism, which to my account has done its job a long time ago and is now just being unnecessarily obnoxious. In no way do I mean that feminism outside the West is unnecessary. Obviously, there they have not yet reached the luxury to argue about colours, but they are fighting for the real causes we conquered decades ago.

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