A normal human eye has three types of cone cells, each of which can register around 100 distinct colour shades. Most experts believe that we can differentiate about 1,000,000 different colours. So, of all the colours available to us, why is pink equated with femininity?
In January of 1953, Dwight Eisenhower became the 34th president of the United States. For his inauguration ceremony, his wife Mamie wore a pink off-the-shoulder, rhinestone-covered dress. This event, important as it was, ended up doing a lot more than just making Eisenhower’s presidency official.
To give a bit of context here, World War II had only ended a few years prior. Mamie’s dress was something that would never have been seen during wartimes. Back then, women were getting more engaged with the workforce and wearing much simpler styles that were often optimized for working. Blue or black were standard work-attire colours, and there wasn’t much extra fabric to be used on things like fashion.
But Mamie loved the colour pink, and she quickly became known for it. Newspaper headlines soon called it “Mamie pink,” and as all the press about Mamie pink spread, people decided that pink was the colour that lady-like women should wear.
Mamie unknowingly became the catalyst of a fashion trend that ended up sticking. Pink became equated with women, and it’s stayed that way ever since. So what does this mean for us today? Is equating pink and femininity still a good thing? How does this affect how we view gender stereotypes?
These are complicated questions—mostly because the answers change depending on who you ask. Pink in and of itself isn’t a bad colour; it’s just a wavelength of light that’s been reflected to our eyes. Some people like it, and some people don’t. What I find interesting, though, is why some people don’t like it.
Pink and purple used to be my favorite colours when I was little. I loved the lighter lilac and soft bubblegum tones in particular. I remember talking to a hall monitor during recess, and her telling me that they might not be my favourites forever. I told her no; of course they would always be my favourites! Fast-forward to middle school, and I decided that I no longer liked pink. My new favourite was blue.
Many of my friends and colleagues have similar stories. At some point in their life, they decided they either didn’t like or hated pink. It took a lot of thinking, researching, and referencing with the aforementioned friends and colleagues, but I eventually settled on a conclusion that seems applicable: it’s not that they don’t want to be associated with femininity, but rather that they don’t want to be associated with how society and the media represent femininity.
Even today, we are told through TV, movies, advertising, and reading material that women are two-dimensional beings who are “nothing but a pretty face” or love “girly” activities like shopping and doing their makeup. We’re told that being a woman equates to these things, and that pink is a symbol of femininity. It seems that it’s not the colour that’s hated—it’s the stigma of what it means to be female.
As I’ve grown, I’ve been able to put aside my prejudice against pink. After all, the colour is not at fault here; it’s the society we’ve crafted. Pink is a fine colour. It’s the colour of a sunset after a long summer day, and the colour of warm cheeks in the winter.
We have the freedom of thought and expression—we’re able to like or dislike any colour as much as we please for literally any reason. But I hope you’re able to take a different perspective on the colour pink and see the beauty in it, because, like anything else, the value of pink is whatever we choose it to be.