"If colours were so easy to align with states of being, I'd say that my idea of femininity in general - and womanhood in particular - correlates directly to an unmissable, deep, bold, vital, rich, sensuous, pulsating, viscous, bloody red."
The red I'm calling to mind here, is the beefy, fleshy sort of red that Louise Bourgeois would have made ole-mas with, to borrow a Trinbagonian colloquialism. Or alternatively, we can talk about the bright flood of red, gushing hot and thick and plentiful from a fresh wound; a period red, for the uninitiated.
For all the obvious and not-so-obvious reasons, red as the colour of womanhood is directly related to the 'physicality' of womanhood. Now, this is not to say that womanhood is tied to the body and its functions, full stop. Women are certainly much, much more than cyclically bleeding genitals and malleable wombs. But still, there is a relationship between those various ties that is difficult to overlook.
For my part, red places women at the center of life. It serves as a representation of the blood and energy that binds us all together; it aptly positions the woman as more than a mere carrier. A dangerous thought to some, but given the things women routinely endure throughout the course of their life, it is a thought worth having.
Red calls to mind our very essence in a vibrant, undeniable way.
Whom else but a woman is worthy of being associated with such an essential thing?
(And yes. This is a jacket worn back-to-front.)
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