Eat the Pink
We don’t want it anymore, so take it back. Stuff it back in whatever sort of pepto bismol hell hole you pulled it out of in the first place. You think that it makes us happy, numbs our senses, keeps us quiet and focused on swaddling plush teddy bears in pastel blankets. We finally recognized the hypnotic manipulation that you presented to us along with our rose colored glasses. We aren’t going to placate you by pretending that we like it anymore. We refuse to spoon-feed your submissive poison to our daughters. They will grow up knowing that they have an entire spectrum of colors to choose from. Their lives are not limited to the power puff façade of happiness that you would prefer to train them with. They are capable of more than playing house and wasting away twenty years of their lives planning a dream wedding. You’ve been holding us down with your pathetic pink plans for a reason. Somewhere inside the madness of your machine you know that without these heavy layers of tinted bullshit weighing us down, we have the potential to surpass your wildest expectations. If you happen to be one of the sex who is small enough to fear that time, then I can’t wait to see your expression when it happens. Red girls will surprise you and purple ones will confuse you. The green ones will frighten you by leaving you, not knowing what to expect. You may not even know that you are doing it, the system forces hands without effort. Do you really want your little girl to have that Barbie doll? Does your niece want the cotton candy cowboy boots, or would she prefer the crocodile skin with spurs? Isn’t she worth more than pom-poms? Doesn’t she deserve more than a future full of diet pills and date rape? We want to be something that you can be proud of, and that’s why we’ve tolerated your plastic oppression for so long, nothing lasts forever though, and the blush barriers have broken down. The rainbow flood is charging through, so you can have the coral cake you baked, and you can eat it too.