Pinkification (a new, old post - from old blog- originally written 13th August 2012))

Ok, let’s get this straight. I do not believe that pink itself is bad. It is not evil. It holds not one conscious thought; projects no malice. I even own some pink things myself. Pink is just a colour, after all. Or at least it should be. Like all colours it should ‘belong’ –for want of a better word- to everyone, regardless of gender.

Sadly, this is not really the case. Sure, you could argue that nobody is stopping people from using, wearing or liking pink...But, is that wholly true? I grant you this: there are no Pink Police out arresting people for crimes of Pinkish wrongdoing. But, actually, I am amongst many – and you thought I was just a lone whacko! – who believe that pink has become more than just a colour. I see that it has become a symbol for all that is supposedly female. And, by being such, it labels what is forgirls, steering girls down narrow paths whilst still letting them believe they are choosing their own way. (That boys are affected by this is also true, in my opinion, but let’s not get carried away just yet. Perhaps another blog, another day?)

So, firstly, we shall we take a gander into the past; to see where all this pink for girls, blue for boys nonsense came from. Yes, I said nonsense. I figure there’s not too much point pretending I think it is otherwise. But, stay with me.

Well, to begin with, it wasn’t about blue or pink at all. Instead boys and girls were dressed in white dresses that were practical: easy to change nappies as well as bleach everything clean. According to my sources*, boys tended to wear these until about the age of 6, at which point they would usually have a haircut and a change of outfit.

Pastel colours were next on the menu, but still the distinction was not as it is now. In fact, did you know that at some point pink was deemed more for boys and blue for girls? Here’s an excerpt from smithsonianmag.com :

“For example, a June 1918 article from the trade publication Earnshaw's Infants' Department said, “The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.”

And regarding the setting of pink for girls, blue for boys:


“Today’s color dictate wasn’t established until the 1940s, as a result of Americans’ preferences as interpreted by manufacturers and retailers. “It could have gone the other way,” Paoletti says.”

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Ok, so here’s the thing: Dividing kids into gender for their clothes, toys and so on, is a marketing strategy. It means companies can make even more money off parents if they happen to have children of different sexes. Cha-ching! Awesome! (For them.) But, not only does it leave the average parent more out of pocket than otherwise necessary, it also has big knock on effects to the children themselves. This may not have been intended, who knows? But it certainly doesn’t seem to be something those companies are too worried about. Why would they be?

What are these knock on effects I hear you ask? It’s gender stereotyping. We lump girls and boys into their gender roles before they’re even born by assigning them these colours. If you walk into most children’s clothes retailers the shop will be divided into ‘boys’ and ‘girls’ clothing. By way of motif’s and slogans, young girls learn that they should like flowers, unicorns and want to be princesses (a whole other story!) and boys learn that they should like cars, dinosaurs and want to be hero’s. In toy stores, the colours pink and blue leave labelling toys ‘boys’ or ‘girls’ downright unnecessary. Children learn pretty early on what sex they are, and are keen to identify with that sex - which is pretty natural. It’s not long before they just know that the candy pink aisles are for girls, the bright blues for boys. And within those aisles the division intensifies. Cooking sets, tiaras, pretend pushchairs and the like for girls and action figures, construction sets and light sabers for boys. By the way, dolls for girls I’ve noticed have become increasingly frightening – when I first saw a Bratz doll I was still in denial about the idea of ever being a mother, yet I was appalled: their huge eyes and pouty lips, not to mention the skimpy clothing that would do well on some classy prostitute on a rather hot evening. And what do these dolls do? Nothing, that I’m aware of. Oh, they look‘pretty’. Fabulous.

The general notion I get whilst walking through a ‘girl’s toys’ aisle – apart from general queasiness – is that girls want (or should want) to spend their days imitating the supposedly old-fashioned roles that women once held: cooking, cleaning, looking pretty and all in the hope to one day catch the eye of the Prince/Knight-in-shining-armour type male, who can then provide for her and the many children she will bear. (Note: I AM a stay-at-home-mum, I DO look after our child and even do some cleaning and cooking, but that’s not to say that’s the extent of my prospects, or that my husband wouldn’t want to do it himself if it were suitable for us. And, in fact, he does his fair share of domestic duties more than willingly.) Whereas, walking through the ‘boys’ aisle’s, I feel that there is a sense of adventure, of exploration. We are male, we can do anything (as long as it isn’t overly domesticated, or requiring some level of emotional depth of course). Ahhh, so modern, don’t you think? No? Nor me.

 Of course, from then on, it just gets worse. Young girls wearing t-shirts with the Playboy Bunny on them (presumably unaware exactly what that symbolises – but, surely the parents know), fretting over how their hair looks in between lessons, worrying about their weight at increasingly younger ages. Having suffered an eating disorder myself, for at least 10 years in total, this provokes many feelings in me, most notably: rage, nausea and disbelief. I am angered that things seem to be getting worse; that nobody seems to be protecting these kids. The nausea is probably a throwback to how I used to feel myself if I had eaten something yummy and was regretting what it might do to my figure (because my figure was more important than my health and actual happiness), as well as a sickening fear that my daughter could be prey to this cruelty. Disbelief: that there aren’t more people feeling enraged by it all!

I see it all reinforced by unwitting, well-meaning people all the time. Including parents. I once worked at a mini-golf kiosk. On a few occasions, when asked to pick a ball, a young boy would pick a bright pink ball (they were new and particularly shiny!) only to have his parent tell him to pick something less ‘girly’.  ‘What? He’s a child!’ The voice in my head would shriek. ‘You’re closing doors to him already, telling him that his choice was wrong?’ And I would pass over the golf clubs and try a smile. Likewise, and this happened even more frequently, parents would not even give their young daughter’s a choice! They’d just say ‘oh, pink for you’ and pass it on over. Well, maybe she does like pink, but maybe today she would’ve chosen something different? At least, if nothing else, let her be allowed to make some decisions. Choosing your golf ball isn’t exactly life or death, but the passive behaviour that seems to be encouraged here doesn’t seem fair to me.

We’re made to think that women and men are equal in Western Society. But, you only have to look at the lack of women in power, or the gap between average salaries for men and women, or the amount of women compared to men who suffer eating disorders to see that something is amiss. It’s all done so cleverly. These ways of thinking are so engrained in society that it’s largely unseen. The girl who wears make-up because she wants to? I ask her: why do you want to? Did you just grow up with a desire to draw on yourself, or did you learn somewhere along the lines that to look ‘beautiful’ was akin to being successful; that what you look like prevails all your other attributes?  Once again, I could go on. But, I think I should try to keep each post more succinct than my heart would allow if it were left to its own devices.
However, a book that touched me immensely, and helped me change from being a victim into a voice, as well as helping me realise that I actually wanted children – I had just been so afraid of being a stereotypical female! – is Naomi Wolf’s ‘The Beauty Myth’. It’s quite old now, but still very relevant.

So, in summary: Pink is a colour. It has been hi-jacked by marketing companies to make parents spend more money and, as a lovely by-product of this, plays a huge part in dictating the ‘choices’ our children will make. I don’t hate pink, I hate what is being done with it. And, I believe that it doesn’t have to be this way. I believe all children should – and could – see the world as their oyster, whatever colour its shell.

*  http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/When-Did-Girls-Start-Wearing-Pink.html

http://jezebel.com/5790638/the-history-of-pink-for-girls-blue-for-boys

http://www.amazon.com/The-Beauty-Myth-Images-Against/dp/0385423977