something to say One of the many things I feel really bad about is that I used to hate the colour pink. I know. I know! What kind of mean-spirited, sociopathic monster hates pink – the world’s zingiest, most vivacious (and arguably best) colour? But for a huge chunk of my childhood, I pooh-poohed anything I considered aggressively feminine, including, but not limited to: dresses, pearls, ruffles, make-up, butterfly motifs, people causing ‘drama’, chick lit, domestic pursuits like sewing and baking, the Twilight saga, public displays of emotion and, of course, pink.
That would have been fine if, deep down, I actually hated those things. But the truth was that I dismissed them because my cultural and social education had led me to believe that they were girly, and girly…
