|Ending the Freshnlo Pedal for Scotland in pink|
I hate glitter ghettos, full of those nasty pinky girly things all sparkles and lace. Yuk.
I’ve talked before about how reducing our female children’s choices to pink or purple will reflect in reducing all their other choices. Imagine if a girl could only be a firefighter if the helmet was a pretty colour.
How can we change the world, save lives and do other important stuff if we can only do dressed in the same shade as a freshly cooked lobster? It’s clearly rubbish. Matter closed.
Then I bought myself a bike jacket, just in time to do the Freshnlo Pedal for Scotland. I chose fluorescent (obviously wise for visibility) pink – not the yellow, green or silver on neighbouring hangers, but pink.
I had also recently bought a pink cover for my iPad (US Army- approved according to the blurb), a pink rubber skin for my phone and a purply pink trimmed case for my camera. My sock drawer is full of salmon and fuchsia shades and my favourite pair of gloves couldn’t be rosier if they tried.
The reason for this fixation with the colours of blush, berry and beery nose is self preservation. Well not exactly self preservation, but stuff preservation.
There are four males in this house, and me. And all of them will help themselves to my stuff willy-nilly. Thereafter the stuff will be, at best, elsewhere, but more often lost, broken, grubby or otherwise sullied.
I have discovered that by wrapping the most attractive bits of stuff in a force-field of femininity it keeps them a bit safer.
Three out of four of my male house-mates wouldn’t be seen dead anywhere near lady-like hues, because they are FOR GIRLS. The fourth house-mate (Boy Three) is young enough not to care about such distinctions as he tears through stuff with locust-like dedication, but he is already learning.
It raises one big question: Given that I heartily oppose the pinkification of little girls, is it OK to use the same colour apartheid for my own benefit?