Puking Pink!


Well I have 13 days until school resumes. It will be a year since starting the dissertation process and my frustration has pretty much got me to the point of telling the whole shebang to FOff! I have finally changed topic and my thoughts now are: “Let’s make this quick, I’ve got life to live!” I am sure my other colleagues working on the “Big D” have frustrations, but I actually feel like cussing everyone and everything out related to this unnecessarily horrid process. I do not believe it needed to take so long to point out the topic was not working, and I take responsibility for not just going with my intuitive rumblings earlier in the process. So I am onto the topic of appalling disservice of pinking girls, i.e. women stupid/submissive. Personally I believe “pink power” is an absolute oxymoron! Do I hate the color pink? No! I am not psychopathic or cued unreasonably by any color unless drowned in it for ulterior motives. I have long suspected something was “Rotten in Demark” (Shakespeare ref.), when I read that ditty as a little girl:

“…Little boys are made of snips and snails

And puppy dogs’ tails,

That’s what little boys are made of.

Little girls are made of sugar and spice

And everything nice,

That’s what little girls are made of.” Original attributed to Robert Southey (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_Are_Little_Boys_Made_Of%3F)

I remember as a little girl wondering “who said they are????” no one gave me an answer and most people thought it odd that I would ask. Of course the fact I often was filthier than my brothers when returning from outdoor play left most of the women in my family too aghast to answer my life affirming questions (of which my mother told me were excessive! My disgust at being pigeon holed for the purposes of pre-judgment of my personality, abilities, and background overflowed and has yet to be contained. While I respect traditions and rituals for their place in history, I do not believe in blind obedience to them above understanding and better knowledge. Yes bloodletting was utilized medicinally, but does one really need one for a bad haircut or the pain from erroneous bruising? My point? Why is society perpetrating the shameful manipulation of the female gender with a color now practically synonymous with representations of the XX chromosomes? Pink is yes, a pretty color, but what does it do to my brain when it’s been thrown up in every corner of my world suggesting I comply with all that is associated. Such as the following list of “Pink attributes:”

  • Calm
  • Hope
  • Warriors
  • Rose
  • Lesbianism
  • Homosexuality
  • Friendly
  • Excitement
  • Tranquilizing
  • Strength
  • Sweet
  • Hallucinations
  • Termination
  • Serration
  • Women only positions

How about I pick my own damned color and determine my own course of life. Maybe I don’t want to be sugar, spice, or anything nice…ever!


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