The ubiquity of pink – American girlhood’s iconic color – is
old news. But what it says about the
messages we send girls? For parents and marketers, that part isn’t as easy to
confront.
Defining
American girlhood is complex - it changes for every girl, as different as she
is diverse, within the racial and economic landscape of her lived experience
(not to mention, an endless array of other contributing factors like ability,
religion, etc.). Despite how girlhoods may differ, some cultural icons remain the
same. ‘Pink-culture’ stands out as an ever-relevant demarcation of what it
means to be a girl in a modern America. Exploring pink provides only one way to
unpack the multidimensional narrative of girlhood, however, it speaks volumes
about the culture that it simultaneously mirrors and rigidly dictates. Looking
closer, it’s clear to see which identities that the color celebrates – and
perhaps more importantly, those that it does not.
Understanding the dangerous ubiquity
of pink begins with the realization that the possessions we surround ourselves
with shape our experience of the world. Peggy Orenstein, author of “Cinderella
Ate My Daughter,” argues that the sheer volume of pink, and the ways that it is
presented, acts as a pillar of girls’ cultural, developmental, and commercial
existence in the United States. In keeping with this notion, she asks parents,
consumers, and all those who come in contact with girls to ask, “What do the
toys we give our girls, the pinkness in which they are steeped, tell us about
what we are telling them? What do
they say about what we think they are
and ought to be?”
Recent figures report – with
resounding agreement – that what pink ‘says’ to girls certainly isn’t pretty.
Developmental psychologists Sharon Lamb and Lyn Mikel Brown weigh in on the
problem with pink, stating that, as Orenstein warns, pink has become an ironic
attempt to celebrate girls while clearly defining their limitations. This
happens through the careful execution of marketing strategies that provide young
consumers and parents with an illusion of choice. One glaring instance is
‘pinkification’ of toys that celebrate children’s innovating, creating, and
building skills. Toy companies selling building sets, blocks, or hands-on
science kits are color dividing their inventories at increasing rates, sending
the loud-and-clear message that being girly, cute, and feminine champions the
inventing skills that these toys claim to foster. It’s no coincidence that this
type of messaging is socially and professionally threatening for girls:
research repeatedly finds that the chasm between girls and boys interest in
math and science fields is strongly related to childhood activities and
surroundings (Jacobs, Davis-Kean, Bleeker, Eccles, & Malanchuk, 2005). This
is one example, but the list goes on.
The price that girls may pay at the hands of
their monochromatic world is a pre-prescribed understanding of their social
roles as only those that correspond with the values that the color
sensationalizes. Perhaps equally or more detrimental, however, is not what pink
promotes, but what it fails to: a robust sense of identity, agency, holistic
skillsets, or non risk-inducing norms. Although exciting news about Target’s
gender signage has many parents feeling hopeful, the collective cultural
attitude remains unconcerned with Orenstein’s idea that pink-culture equates
“identity with image, self-expression with appearance, femininity with
performance, pleasure with pleasing, and sexuality with sexualization”
(Orenstein, 2011, p. 28).
It’s important to note that pink is
just one factor out of many – in addition, it’s certainly not just girls that color and gender typing
our world affects – but that’s a post for another day. If girls are to find
true, agency driven, ‘happily-ever-afters,’ their cultural must represent them
with a reinvented spectrum -- literally. Why not celebrate them with a palette
exactly as powerful, and as diverse, as girls themselves?
References
Jacobs, J. E., Davis-Kean, P., Bleeker, M., Eccles, J. S.,
& Malanchuk, O. (2005). " I
can, but I don't want to": The Impact of Parents, Interests, and
Activities on Gender Differences in Math. Cambridge University Press.
Orenstein, P. (2011). Cinderella
ate my daughter. New York: Harper Collins.
Written by Angelica Puzio
Written by Angelica Puzio
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