When I was little, my world was pink. My room sparkled with princess decor, I wore dresses, played with Bratz, and dreamed of being a ballerina. But somewhere along the way, that world disappeared. Pink became embarrassing. Dresses felt impractical. Slowly, I learned to push away the girly side of me; not because anyone told me to, but because femininity wasn’t valued. In the world around me, pink wasn’t just uncool; it was a weakness.
Like many girls, I grew up surrounded by unspoken rules about what strength should look like. Be confident, but not “too soft.” Be ambitious, but not “too feminine.” Society doesn’t outright ban femininity, it just quietly undermines it. Makeup becomes “vain,” softness becomes “fragile,” and pink becomes a symbol of everything you’re supposed to outgrow if you want to be taken seriously. So, I learned to trade sparkles for sneakers. I stopped wearing pink not because I stopped liking it, but because I was taught it didn’t belong in spaces where power and respect lived.
Then COVID hit, and with it came a flood of postponed weddings. My mom realized she didn’t know how to do her makeup—and neither did I. So at sixteen, we learned together. Two beginners, sitting side by side, figuring out what shades worked, laughing at how mascara made my lashes look absurd, and discovering the small miracle of concealer. Makeup became more than eyeliner or foundation. It was our quiet rebellion. With each brush stroke, we were reclaiming space that the world told us didn’t belong to us.
But reclaiming femininity hasn’t been a straight line—it’s still complicated, especially at an engineering school where the ratio is 70-30. Some mornings, I want to wear a skirt to class but hesitate, worrying I’ll be taken less seriously. So I default to jeans and a t-shirt. There are days I feel most myself that way—working with my hands, fixing machines, blending into a “man’s world.” And then there are days I’m at a SWE event or a meeting in a skirt, feeling confident, capable, and comfortable. Both are real.
I’ve learned that I’m not alone in this push and pull. Studies show that women in male-dominated fields often downplay their femininity to be taken seriously. A 2023 McKinsey report found that nearly 80% of women in STEM feel pressure to adapt their appearance or behavior to fit in with male peers. That statistic hits differently when you’re living it, standing in front of your closet, torn between who you are and who you think people will respect.
So where does that leave me? Some days I feel strong in sneakers, other days in skirts. Both versions are me. I’m learning to stop seeing femininity as something to suppress. Makeup, pink, softness; they’re not liabilities. They’re choices. They’re power.