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In Defence of Pink

1
As I sat, staring at the pile of Christmas presents waiting to be wrapped, I couldn’t help but notice the pink-plosion that seemed to have occurred over the living-room floor.
Pre-baby me floated into vision, arms folded, tutting. How could you do this to our daughter? Don’t you remember the subtle memo you put out to family and friends the moment we found out we were having a girl? Strictly no pink! You disgust me.
Then, even scarier, 6th Form art student me pounded on the door – resplendent in a suede overcoat and army-print mini skirt. She
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didn’t say anything. She was too upset and had to get back to her seminal work on feminism and what it’s like to be a woman in the late 90s. (In reality, all I did for my Art A-level was pass round 6”x6” squares of blank paper to my friends and the female members of staff and asked them to ‘express’ what it meant to be a woman. I just put them together on a giant piece of MDF. One girl drew a pair of boobs…)
Anyway, it’s safe to say that before actually having daughters of my own I equated the colour pink to an unnecessary
SelfishMother.com
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‘pretty-ing’ of girls. Why couldn’t they wear baby-grows with trains on and still look cute? Well, the simple answer is, they can. That’s what makes being a girl, and being a mum of two girls, so wonderful. They can pretty much wear what they like – and as much as my past selves might not like it – my four year old likes dresses. And pink. And so what? It’s a colour. We don’t look at a child wearing blue and assume they are cold-hearted, or a child wearing green and assume he likes nature, or a child wearing brown and assume… well… that
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their parents hate them. My point is, that to have a problem with ‘pink’ or ‘girliness’ is to see femininity as somehow weak, a state to be avoided at all costs if possible. The idea that wearing pink or dressing a girl (especially a baby or child) in pink somehow demeans them by implying that pink = girly is terrifyingly sexist and, quite frankly, potty. It’s taken having two daughters to realise this. As well as Dolores Umbridge. Pink can be as hard as nails, something we can thank JK Rowling for.
But it doesn’t stop there. My eldest
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daughter has now developed an interest in… gulp… make up.
That’s right. A couple of trips to the face-painter at parties and summer fairs and my girl was hooked. Not just on having her own face painted, but on painting the faces of any and all willing family members. She had her own set of face paints that ended up looking like the last night of a very muddy Glastonbury, and then this Christmas she requested… Little Girl Make-up. You know the stuff, clear mini-lipsticks and powder that is so translucent it wouldn’t show up on a
SelfishMother.com
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ghost.
(Pre-baby and 6th form me have linked arms and stormed off. I’m glad. They scare me a little.)
However, before you start thinking that me and Katie Price have been swapping parenting tips, there is a crucial point to be made here. At this moment in time my little girl has no idea that women wear make up to make themselves feel and look better or more attractive. In her mind, make up is used to turn blank faces into works of art. She revels in plastering blue eyeshadow on her cheeks and adding bright red dots around her eyes. She categorically
SelfishMother.com
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does not (as I and millions of other women do) examine her face to see what needs to be made bigger, smoother, less wrinkled. She’s playing, she’s being creative. It’s this month’s fad.
That’s not to say I have totally made my peace with all this. Each morning I gently suggest to her that perhaps the tule skirt might like a break and that jeans are just as nice. I hammer home the fact that make-up is just for fun and that I like her best when she is fresh faced. But I am determined that no matter what my daughters wear in the future, whether
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it’s head to toe pink and flawless make up or blue overalls and a shaved head. They can be whoever they want and be just as good as men. After all, that’s the best thing about being a girl, isn’t it?
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- 3 Jan 16

As I sat, staring at the pile of Christmas presents waiting to be wrapped, I couldn’t help but notice the pink-plosion that seemed to have occurred over the living-room floor.

Pre-baby me floated into vision, arms folded, tutting. How could you do this to our daughter? Don’t you remember the subtle memo you put out to family and friends the moment we found out we were having a girl? Strictly no pink! You disgust me.

Then, even scarier, 6th Form art student me pounded on the door – resplendent in a suede overcoat and army-print mini skirt. She didn’t say anything. She was too upset and had to get back to her seminal work on feminism and what it’s like to be a woman in the late 90s. (In reality, all I did for my Art A-level was pass round 6”x6” squares of blank paper to my friends and the female members of staff and asked them to ‘express’ what it meant to be a woman. I just put them together on a giant piece of MDF. One girl drew a pair of boobs…)

Anyway, it’s safe to say that before actually having daughters of my own I equated the colour pink to an unnecessary ‘pretty-ing’ of girls. Why couldn’t they wear baby-grows with trains on and still look cute? Well, the simple answer is, they can. That’s what makes being a girl, and being a mum of two girls, so wonderful. They can pretty much wear what they like – and as much as my past selves might not like it – my four year old likes dresses. And pink. And so what? It’s a colour. We don’t look at a child wearing blue and assume they are cold-hearted, or a child wearing green and assume he likes nature, or a child wearing brown and assume… well… that their parents hate them. My point is, that to have a problem with ‘pink’ or ‘girliness’ is to see femininity as somehow weak, a state to be avoided at all costs if possible. The idea that wearing pink or dressing a girl (especially a baby or child) in pink somehow demeans them by implying that pink = girly is terrifyingly sexist and, quite frankly, potty. It’s taken having two daughters to realise this. As well as Dolores Umbridge. Pink can be as hard as nails, something we can thank JK Rowling for.

But it doesn’t stop there. My eldest daughter has now developed an interest in… gulp… make up.

That’s right. A couple of trips to the face-painter at parties and summer fairs and my girl was hooked. Not just on having her own face painted, but on painting the faces of any and all willing family members. She had her own set of face paints that ended up looking like the last night of a very muddy Glastonbury, and then this Christmas she requested… Little Girl Make-up. You know the stuff, clear mini-lipsticks and powder that is so translucent it wouldn’t show up on a ghost.

(Pre-baby and 6th form me have linked arms and stormed off. I’m glad. They scare me a little.)

However, before you start thinking that me and Katie Price have been swapping parenting tips, there is a crucial point to be made here. At this moment in time my little girl has no idea that women wear make up to make themselves feel and look better or more attractive. In her mind, make up is used to turn blank faces into works of art. She revels in plastering blue eyeshadow on her cheeks and adding bright red dots around her eyes. She categorically does not (as I and millions of other women do) examine her face to see what needs to be made bigger, smoother, less wrinkled. She’s playing, she’s being creative. It’s this month’s fad.

That’s not to say I have totally made my peace with all this. Each morning I gently suggest to her that perhaps the tule skirt might like a break and that jeans are just as nice. I hammer home the fact that make-up is just for fun and that I like her best when she is fresh faced. But I am determined that no matter what my daughters wear in the future, whether it’s head to toe pink and flawless make up or blue overalls and a shaved head. They can be whoever they want and be just as good as men. After all, that’s the best thing about being a girl, isn’t it?

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Freelance writer of books and magazines for small people. Mother of two delightfully dotty daughters.

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