Tuesday, 22 January 2013

I don't like pink.

No, not the slightly butch American girl-power singer.
The colour. Sort of the colour.
This is the first of my 'proper' posts. The others have all be melodramatic moaning about my life. 
So, yes let's get it out of the way - as you can see from my profile picture my hair is pink. That doesn't mean that I automatically <3 pink.
 What it actually means is that when I am intellectually stagnant I do stupid stuff - usually to my hair. 
Occasionally when I'm at work, trying to persuade actual grown ups that a blue robot bath ballistic won't turn their precious princess into a lesbian, I say "some girls don't even like pink - I don't!" I just see their faces go blank as they look at my hair. I have no answer to this other than pink hair suits me better than blue or green or red and I've had purple hair before so I don't want a repeat of that. 
It of course, happens the other way around when little boys want the sweet pink bath ballistic with love hearts inside mums will bat them away going "no, that one's for little girls." No, it isn't. It is for anyone that wants it. The colour of your bathwater doesn't mean anything. I have gone so far as to say just that to people because I am fed up of listening to real adults restrict their kids from something because of it's colour. 

I had a similar flap recently when mooching aimlessly around Wilkinsons I came across a PINK tool set, for GURLS obviously. 
Right, retailers shall we get this straight? 
Women do not need a gendered hammer, it's a blunt instrument for whacking nails into walls/furniture or errant partners around the head (joke) I don't need a screwdriver to be pink when I am trying to affix a shelf to the wall. It's nonsense. Possibly nonsense put together by a man who thinks that buying his wife/girlfriend/whatever a pink tool set means that she'll help out with the DIY. 
I actually have a small set of tools, I live alone and I don't want to have to call my dad every time a bulb blows. They aren't pink and it makes me no less of a woman to use tools that aren't pink. But still whenever I've had to have someone come into my little home to help fix the boiler or the sink they ask "I don't suppose you have any tools? Do you?" And look genuinely shocked when I produce a selection from the kitchen drawer.

As I kid I played with Barbie, usually dangling her naked out of my bedroom window to scare one of my sisters in the kitchen below, I also played with LEGO. I built castles and huge towering thrones for the tiny LEGO people to sit on and oppress their fellow people (tiny dictator in the making.) I had a little play kitchen and chop up food (anyone else remember that, with velcro holding the pieces together?) And I played football with the next door neighbours. Kids should be allowed to play at what they want, not just what we deem suitable for their gender. Would Marie Curie have played with radioactive material if she'd stuck to female pastimes? Would Queen Victoria have been Empress of India if she'd allowed Albert to rule for her? There are hundreds, if not thousands of other examples I'm certain - can we forget all this ancient modern gender nonsense?

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