Pink Rebellion

Since the day we’re born,
pink wraps around us.
a whisper to the world: she’s here.

Before breath becomes voice,
before choice is ours to make,
we’re handed princess dresses and grosgrain ribbons,
told to smile and to sit with our knees pressed tight.

Pink on birthday cakes,
bike streamers and ballet shoes.
Pink razors, pink lipstick,
even on the pads tucked away in our purses
like secrets we’re taught to hide.

But pink is more than packaging.
It’s the color that holds much more.
The blush that burns
when we’re talked over,
the heat in our cheeks
when a stranger stares too long.

Pink is not a weakness.
It’s a badge of resilience
war paint passed down
from women who whispered truths,
marched with blistered feet,
built empires from silence.

Pink is rebellion
disguised as softness.
braided into hair before school,
and stitched into the seams of every dress.

So don’t mistake our softness for surrender.
Respect the pink.
Respect the women who wear it.