A letter to the colour pink

My elder sister has always loved the color pink but I was always determined to reject it. At the age where the girls around me seemed to be embracing traditional femininity with open arms - flowing skirts, bright scrunchies, and long lustrous hair, I chose to go otherwise, one that was fraught with insecurity and self-doubt.

My sister evolved into a vibrant young woman, experimenting with makeup and nurturing her long, brown hair. I, on the other hand, cut my hair short, wore oversized, dark clothing to hide my body and shunned make up, almost despising it. I used to dance and perform regularly, but the idea of dressing up and make-up felt suffocating, and did not suit me.

Looking back, I realize that my actions were a desperate attempt to defy the norms, to escape the expectations that threatened to constrain me. I was searching for a sense of identity, a sense of self that wasn't defined by societal expectations. But in doing so, I also risked losing touch with a part of myself, a part that was vulnerable, fragile, and beautiful.

For me, the color pink was inextricably linked with femininity, but unfortunately, my perception of it was tainted by negative connotations. I saw pink as weak, secondary, common, and powerless. But then, there was my sister - a living embodiment of the very color I had come to despise. She was none of the things I associated with pink. In fact, she was a beacon of strength, resilience, and individuality.

Now that I reflect on those memories, I wonder who instilled this idea of hatred in me at such a tender age. Was it a genuine dislike for the color, or was it a rebellion against the perceptions surrounding it? None of the women or little girls who adored the color pink were weak or untalented. On the contrary, they had the audacity to be themselves, to embrace their femininity, and to express themselves unapologetically. And in doing so, they inspired me to reevaluate my own perceptions and biases.

Karma has a way of coming full circle. Pink now suits me best. It's ironic, yet poetic, I own multiple clothing in this colour and have started loving it. As I've grown and evolved, I've discovered a newfound love for self-expression. I've also learned to appreciate the art of makeup, and I take delight in wearing glitters in my eyes and wearing blushes on my cheek, and slipping into a pretty little dress once in a while. I've started growing hair longer, and I'm excited to see it flourish. Recently, I visited a salon for a haircut, and for the first time, I opted for a style that wasn't a traditional 'boy's cut.' As the stylist worked on it, I felt a surge of happiness and excitement with each snip of the scissors. It was liberating, watching my hair transform into something new, something that reflected the person I'm becoming.

After all the epiphanies, I have come to realise that pink is still not my favourite colour. It's probably Red or Brown. But it shall never dictate my potential and capabilities.

- Pracheta Bhattacharjee (Pracheta is an undergraduate student of Political Science from Scottish Church College, Kolkata.)