Let me tell you the story of the little pink bag.
When I was growing up in Hawaii, I was taught that good Japanese American girls were sober, refined, and obedient. Not a problem for me back then, although it might be hard to believe. I still dearly love and respect my mother, partly due to a wooden spoon that she whipped out every so often and brandished with some skill, even if it rarely connected with my bottom.
If good Japanese American girls were a piece of fabric, they’d be mauve or lavender muslin, enlivened by delicate patterns in red, blue, and green. They were not pink–which, when I was growing up, was limited to frou-frou fuzzy bunny pink or Barbie pink–or lime green or orange.
But in the past few years, God has given me the green light to take up my passion–fiction writing. And not just any fiction writing, but Asian American heroines who are kick-butt and sassy. Definitely not mauve or lavender muslin–more like electric purple silk or crushed black velvet with silver spangles.
“God, this isn’t mauve muslin.”
God just laughed.
I’ve noticed it’s not just my heroines who are rebelling against the mauve muslin.
In Marshall’s a few weeks ago, I was looking for a new computer bag. Dutiful and practical. Mauve muslin me.
Anyone who’s been to Marshall’s knows that after women sift through the bags for a while, they kind of pile on top of each other like football players. So I dove into the pile to dig.
I swear, the bag just jumped into my hands. NOT a computer bag. Bright, hot pink. Dooney and Bourke. Cute and small and impractical. Loud rose pink. Beautiful, pinky pink.
Can temptation look any more gorgeous???
I waffled. I even resorted to talking with my husband so he’d talk me out of buying it. Now is that desperate or what?
Problem is, he saw how much I loved it, and he loves me. The little pink bag came home with me.
How about you? Is there a gold and silver brocade inside you screaming to get out? A fiery sunset shantung? A dark, shimmery moonlight twill?
Now, I’m not saying to go out and buy an expensive, impractical bag. But who did God make you, and how can you make you even better?
Camy Tang is usually being a loud Asian chick at writers conferences and a sweet, quiet writer at home. She just got a 3-book contract from Zondervan for her Asian chick-lit series “Single Sushi.” Visit her website. You won’t be disappointed!