Pick-me Pink

 Have you ever felt embarrassed by the things that you used to like?

Pick-me Pink

Pink hair bows, pink backpack, pink shoes—anyone could tell what my favorite color in elementary school was. I swooned over Barbie’s dreamhouse, Fluttershy from My Little Pony, and Flora from Winx Club. I was in love with everything frilly and floral, especially when they came in pink. Ever since I could remember, my favorite color was pink—it had practically become a part of my identity.

“What’s your favorite color?” During the annual icebreaker favorite, I never hesitated.

As I moved into middle school and reached an age where I thought of myself as a changed man, my elementary hobbies and favorites became demoted to “phases”. I began to shun everything childish and girly (derogatory), claiming myself to be a mature tomboy. Skirts and puff sleeves gathered dust in my closet and I stopped reaching for my hair accessories on school days, even though I still liked dressing up alone every once in a while. Pink became something to look down on, a sign of an immature girl that hadn’t grown up yet that I desperately wanted to distance myself from.

In new classrooms with new classmates, “what’s your favorite color?” was a difficult question to avoid. “I don’t really have one” or “pastels,” I’d usually say, my beautiful and vague go-tos. If prompted, you could force a “pink” out of me, but never without a “maybe” to go in front and a “but not super hot pink, I think that’s a bit ugly” right after.

I didn’t quite realize it, but I was caught deep in a web of color politics. According to my middle school self: red and orange were just ugly, aquamarine was for the people who wanted to be extra special and specific, pink was too girly, blue was basic, purple was alright but indecisive (quite literally in the middle of pink and blue), I couldn’t be green like my sister, couldn’t have the same favorite as too many of my friends. So I settled for nothing.

Everything down to a favorite color was a vulnerability to social perception in my eyes. I self-marketed insecurity and indecisiveness as a new-found maturity, but in reality I felt lost. No color felt like ‘me’ anymore after I lost to the pressure of the pick-me girl virus and found myself trying to match other people. I had latched onto pink for so long, and outgrowing it felt both relieving and as close to an identity crisis a 12 year old could have.

By the time I re-accepted my place in society as a person who just loves cute things and isn’t the cool tomboy I used to dream of being, I was already in high school. Like most change, I can’t produce a formula or find the exact moment of any major character development, but I started to find an answer to the question I skirted around for the last couple years. Yellow, a color I never gave a second thought to, was suddenly looking real good. It was bright but subtle, embodying everything I loved about pink in a fresh form. With yellow as a gateway back into loving the soft, my fear of pink receded.

Very all over the place right now…Where should I cut or expand, and is it repetitive anywhere?

Also, you can basically just ignore the conclusion right now it's super bad...don't worry I'll fix it and add some more.