Everything about Women’s Day frustrates me.
All the messages and often, people’s alignment to those messages, make me angry.
Smart, accomplished women who think the day is about the color pink. Of all the colors in the world, why pink? Because women have been told that a particular color defines them — by product companies and advertisers. The female gender of our species is no more born with an inbuilt predilection for a color — than men are born with an inbuilt tap which turns off their tears the minute they tumble out of their mother’s womb.
My childhood was devoid of pink. Not by design, but by accident. I was born in the mid-80’s and India still had a closed market economy. The onslaught of pink products for little girls, from hairclips to waterbottles, had not yet happened. Our unsuspecting populace had not been told via American cable TV that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. We didn’t know.
Women’s day is not about pink. It is certainly not about femininity, or beauty, or motherhood.
It’s about the struggle against all of these things.