Actually, I’m not even sure if that’s truly my own choice. Before I was born, my parents found out I was a girl at a gender reveal party — they cut the cake and saw the pink cream inside. When I came into the world, I was wrapped in a pink comforter and played with pink Barbie dolls. Pink became “my” colour naturally. Even before I could speak, I was already picking pink toys and pink snacks.
But during my teenage years, I started to avoid using anything pink. It felt “too girly.” That was also the time when we were told that girls weren’t as good as boys at math. Boys started growing taller, louder, stronger. I started to feel ashamed of being a girl — because being a girl seemed to mean being weak. I even used the male version of “I” to refer to myself, because it made me feel more powerful.
So when did I start to like pink again?
Probably after all those years of struggle. As I grew older, I met girls who were completely different from the stereotype. Some of them could do ten pull-ups. Some studied math, physics, or politics at top universities. They were confident, capable, and strong. Without doubt, they are girly, but it is totally different from the “girly” I was familiar with. Through them, I saw a different definition of what it means to be a girl. And a different way to see pink.
I started to think about it — there’s no other colour that carries such a strong gender meaning as pink.Yes, blue is used for boys in gender reveal parties, but it’s completely normal for girls to wear blue.Pink, on the other hand, still feels like a statement. And yet, it’s just a colour. We see it everywhere in nature — in sakura blossoms, watermelons, auroras, sunset skies. Even as I was writing this story, I noticed a giant pink ad from Rakuten right outside my window.
When I was asked to design an art class for this volunteering project, I had just watched the Barbie movie. I asked myself, why not create a class about pink? So, together with a group of high school students from Yunnan, we explored the idea of pink — we talked about its history, and the surprising fact that it was once associated with boys. Then, each of us began to draw with pink pens. When pink is the only colour you're given, everything becomes pink — and pink can be anything.
This class wasn’t just about helping girls break away from the pink stereotype. It was also about giving pink — this natural, vibrant colour — to boys, to everyone. I wouldn’t define this class as feminist education. It was something simpler: a small attempt to break barriers, so that everyone, regardless of gender, could feel a little freer in what they choose and who they are.
Pink is my favourite colour, and this time, I think I finally know why. It’s not just about girl power anymore, it’s about all the beautiful memories that pink carries with it.