One night when I was very little, my mom and I ran into a caricature artist at the beach. She decided to buy me a portrait, and I told the man I wanted myself “dancing with a dragon.” (I guess I was always myself!) He asked me what color I wanted my dress to be in the picture, and as I looked over his chalk-or-whatever-they-weres, (pastels?) I saw the most beautiful color I’d ever seen. I knew it was exactly what I wanted.
I opened my mouth and said, “Pink.”
However, it wasn’t pink. The color was lavender, which is still my favorite color. In fact, I’m wearing lilac velvet pajama pants right now. But the man didn’t know that I’d only said pink because it was the closest word I had, so for literally twelve years a gigantic picture of me dancing with a dragon while wearing a bright pink dress hung over my chair at the dinner table.
I realized today that this could be a metaphor (insert cigarette joke, etc.) for learning about identity labels. How many of us go through our teenage years not knowing that we’re actually bisexual, asexual, transgender, nonbinary, gender fluid, demisexual, etc. simply because we didn’t know what to call it?
We call ourselves “pink” because it’s close and we don’t know the real word, or we don’t even know it’s a real thing, but that’s not really right at all.
I guess I did go through this with bisexuality myself because it didn’t occur to me that my female crushes were crushes and that my childhood fixation with boobs was just part of my sexuality, simply because well, gay was girls who don’t like boys, and that’s not me. I was right. That isn’t me. Because I’m not a pink pastel. I’m a lavender one, and now I know what to call it.
(Note: a Tumblr reader has informed me that the tools are called ‘color sticks’. Thank you!)