My youngest son’s favorite color is pink. He wears pink clothes, pink socks, asks for shoes with pink on them, has soft, fluffy pink pillows and blankets on his bed. He has heard from little boys and little girls alike, that pink is not a color he should love so much. Despite the less judgmental society we’ve all been hard at work building, there are still those that don’t believe that my son should walk around wearing his favorite color. Luckily however, we are fortunate that for the most part, those that surround our lives, let him be who he is.
We had a special day together today, just me and him. We went to the zoo in the morning and because it’s been some time since we visited a store in the zoo, I told him he could get a little something today. In the store, we looked through t-shirts, noting that the pink t-shirts that he liked had the slender cut that is more marketed to little girls. We moved along, browsing until we saw the pink baseball hats sitting up on a higher shelf.
“Can I get that hat?” he asked. The hat is a pale pink with a cute logo and probably designed for women, but he loved it and I told him that could be his thing.
“Can you get one too, so we can match?” He asked next. Having an older son that is almost twelve and teaching middle school for a living gives me a front row seat to how uncool I am on most days. I’m totally fine with that, but I know that the days when my child asks me to match with him in public are very numbered. So, of course, I bought a matching hat for me as well.
As we left the store, we found a seat so we could remove the tags and size our new hats. We put them on immediately and finished our trip around the zoo. My son held my hand as we chatted and wore our matching hats. I’ve never been more proud to wear a pink hat.
The funny part for me is that I never liked the color pink as a little girl. I went so far as to not wear pink (with exclusion to the 90s and several hot pink items) and to say that I didn’t like the color. For me, I remember it felt as if girls were supposed to like the color by some unwritten rule. The rebellious apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it seems.
It’s only in the last few years that I’ve warmed to the color and started to like it and even wear it. I have pink shoes now and a pink water bottle and I love them! I think my son has influenced that. I also no longer feel like a little kid wearing a color that defines my gender, especially since my son has so clearly denounced that the color pink identifies a gender.
He is the first to tell anyone that it is only a color, that his eyes like it, that it is bright and friendly and makes him feel happy. He doesn’t understand why there is a girl’s section in some stores that looks bright and happy with unicorns and all manner of fantasy that he so enjoys, while the boys department looks (in his opinion) to be dim, drab and boring. He wears necklaces that sparkle as well and finds iridescent designs on clothing and shoes inviting. He wants a pink streak in his hair, and occasionally asks for his nails to be painted. He knows what he likes and he is this brave little soul that does what he wants.
And I love his persistence with it and his attitude. It’s not easy to be who we really are in this life and in this world, so if my son can so unapologetically express himself, the least I can do is be the one right next to him holding his hand. That’s my job as his mom. To sit with him as he is who he is. And for his whole life, I can promise him that, and I will wear whatever matching hat he asks me to.
Rachael Coughlin 