My Name Is Pink

When I began writing My Name is Pink, I was thinking about a voice. A voice that is often overlooked, misunderstood, or simplified. Pink is everywhere, yet rarely heard. She's seen as sweet, soft, girlish—but she also holds rage, memory, power, and resistance. This book is my way of letting her speak. As a feminist and an advocate for women's rights, especially in areas like menstrual poverty and access to dignity for girls and women around the world, I believe deeply in reimagining the symbols we take for granted. Pink has too often been used to mask pain, silence voices, or sell an illusion of beauty. But I wanted to ask: What if pink could tell her own story? What if she remembered being red—bold, loud, alive? My Name is Pink is part poem, part riddle, part visual meditation. It travels through literature, history, girlhood, and the politics of the body. Each page is a layer of metaphor and memory, drawing from writers like T.S. Eliot, Emily Dickinson, Virginia Woolf, and Shakespeare—not to borrow their voices, but to echo, question, and expand on the spaces they left behind. The final pages speak directly to the issue of menstrual poverty—a subject too often ignored or stigmatized. For millions, menstruation is not just a private experience; it's a public injustice. To be denied access to basic hygiene is to be denied freedom. I wanted to peel that back. This book is for anyone who has ever felt boxed in by expectations—by labels like "pretty," "nice," or "appropriate." It's for every girl who twirled in a pink dress and every woman who grew up wondering if softness could be strong. And it's for every person still learning that identity is not something given—it's something made, reshaped, and reclaimed.