Rethinking Pink January 25, 2017Posted by indigobunting in Uncategorized.
It feels terrible to come clean about this, but the whole breast cancer thing with pink? It makes me crazy. I wish they’d chosen any other color. I cannot buy (or bear) all the pink swag. I know it’s a reclamation, but I am not going to buy any pink fly-fishing gear or hop on the girly-color bandwagon.
So when the women’s march idea came up last November, I bristled—not at the thought of pussy hats, but of PINK pussy hats.
Lots of my Vermont friends headed to DC last weekend, including my across-the-street neighbor, Emily, who turned 12 on inauguration day and whose mother, as a present, took her on the two-overnights-on-the-bus-for-all-day-at-the-rally trip that left from here. This is a birthday that girl will NEVER forget. (The women on the bus signed Emily’s copy of book 2 of John Lewis’s March. How cool is that? Really.)
I headed to Montpelier with Rhonda and her son Ben. A lot of my friends had obtained their pussy hats, and I was starting to feel a bit guilty about having no pink. I have two pink ball caps, but neither would really do. I had my beanie from 2010’s Rally to Restore Sanity (my last DC march) as backup. Rhonda had an extra pink beanie and would bring it for my consideration.
It was a nice mixed-pink wool number with a flower. I wore it.
We got into town early enough to find parking and tool around. We had no idea how many people had come in after us until we headed back to the school where the march was about to begin. Cell service was overwhelmed, cut out, and we were unable to meet up with Sarah and Laura, after all our planning.
(When we left town, we discovered an interstate lined with parked cars, cars parked in the median strip, the exits into town closed off. It was astounding.)
Besides being part of a positive and inspiring demonstration, a highlight for me was being spotted by a blog friend, Alesia, whom I’d never met in all these years. (365ers: I can’t remember if she participated in that project, but she certainly was around soon after. She, like Helen, has since retired from the blogosphere.) Rhonda and I were closely watching the parade for Laura and Sarah from an excellent vantage point approaching the statehouse, and Alesia, who knew I would be there, recognized me (me, in a pink hat no less!), and I got to hug a cyberfriend!
But back to the pink. Seeing all the pink in the crowd that day—and more importantly, seeing it all at the march in DC and at all the marches around the world—that sea of pink really was uplifting. For at least one day, I loved it.
Rhonda gave me the lovely hat as a souvenir. (But I still won’t buy any pink fly-fishing gear.)