Pretty in Pink? Not for My Daughter
September 12, 2011
I never was a fan of parading girls around in pink. It’s not that I don’t like pink. It’s a fabulous color for cotton candy, feather boas, and Virginia ham. But I’ve always had a problem with society’s narrow definitions of beauty and especially femininity. If I was going to have a girl, I didn’t want her to be primped; I wanted her to be empowered. And dressing her in pink seemed tantamount to leading her around in handcuffs.
I Wish I Had Learned Spanish
September 5, 2011
“Agua,” my mother said to me as she held out a glass. She refused to release it from her grip until I relented, but I walked away with a dry mouth rather than say the word “water” in Spanish. I was about 5 years old and quickly learned the comeback that was my only sure defense: “You’re in America now. Speak English!” It wore my mother down, and eventually, she stopped offering drinks with an accompanying language tutorial. I had won. Or so I thought at the time.