It’s true that the only thing you really need in order to spend time outside is yourself.  Walk out the door, maybe find a park, and you’re in business.  (There are access to outdoors issues, which are very real and urgent, but that’s not what this post is about.)  But it’s also true that the more you get into outdoor sports – be that hiking, kayaking, climbing, snowsports, or something else – the more you might get interested in gearing up.  And it’s an inescapable fact that certain gear makes the outdoor experience more pleasant.  A hike is more fun if you’ve got good boots and you’re not rolling your ankle every five steps in your sneakers.  Basically, if you’re into outdoor sports, you could find yourself at your preferred outdoor retailer from time to time.  How many time-to-times depends on your budget.

I’m pretty responsible about my budget, but I hear the siren call of REI from time to time.  And when I do find myself either browsing the website or standing in front of a display at my local co-op (or the D.C. flagship), I have a pet peeve.

I hate all that girly crap.

There, I said it!  What drives me crazy more than anything else is when I am trying to buy women’s-specific gear and I am stuck deciding between pink, purple, and aqua/teal or powder blue.  How about none of the above?

The first time I really thought about this was when I was buying a life jacket, a couple of years ago.  We had been renting kayaks more often, and I was sick of swimming (please appreciate the pun) in ill-fitting PFDs.  When Steve asked me what I wanted for Mother’s Day, I said I wanted a women’s life preserver.  Something that was designed for women, that would fit right and not ride up.  Shouldn’t be hard, right?

I did extensive google research and decided that I should probably try on a few different options.  So one lunch break, I hopped on Metro – these were pre-COVID days – and ran over to the REI DC flagship store in NoMA.  I had a hunch I was going to end up with the Stohlquist Flo, but I wanted to try them all.  I spent an hour with a sales consultant, taking life jackets on and off, zipping and cinching and pretending to paddle, and concluded – Flo it is, just like I thought.  Then I asked about color choices.  And it turned out my options were purple and… purple.

“This style used to be available in orange, right?” I asked.  “Do you maybe have one in the back?”

No.  Purple.  And purple.

At the end of the day, I wanted a life jacket that fit me properly.  I wanted something that was going to keep me comfortable for hours on the water – we were planning our five-day kayak trip to the Salish Sea, and I hoped there would be more multi-day paddling trips in our future.  The Stohlquist Flo was perfect in every respect, except for the grape color.  I gritted my teeth and bought it.

(Worth noting: it’s a great PFD.  I’ve had it for two paddling seasons now and I love the way it fits.  And recently as I was walking down the steps onto the dock at one of the DC boathouses, another paddler stopped me and started gushing: “I have that life jacket too!  It’s the best!”  This has also happened to me with my Oboz hiking boots.  Women’s outdoor gear tends to create something of a sisterhood of devotees.)

(Here’s a piece of outdoor gear I love: my Werner Camano kayak paddle, in the “Mount Baker” design, which makes me smile every time I use it – especially now that I can say I have paddled in the shadow of Mount Baker.)

I tend to be drawn to colors that would today be considered gender-neutral.  All my adult life, my favorite color has been green.  I like blue and orange, too – colors found abundantly in nature.  (And before you @ me, I know about flowers and sunsets; I know that pink and purple can be seen in the natural world, too.)  And it drives me crazy that I can’t have both a piece of gear that is designed specifically for women and also… let’s say… a nice, calm navy blue.

I was reminded of this recently while shopping around for new trekking poles.  I don’t have any immediate plans to replace my (teal, of course) trekking poles.  But they are getting on in years, and they’re starting to slip around a bit.  It may not be time for new ones yet, but it will be eventually.  So I mentioned to Steve that new trekking poles would be a good gift idea for a birthday or Christmas down the road (but not too far down the road) and that when that day came, I’d like a pair of Leki poles.

Why Leki? he asked.

Well, a couple reasons, I told him.  One, I have not been impressed with some of the political stances taken by the company that makes the poles I have currently.  Two, I grew up using Leki ski poles and always liked them.  So: Leki, I said, that’s what I want.

Steve likes to get a link to a gift idea, so a few weeks later I popped over to the REI website to look for options.  There were two – count ’em, two – pairs of women’s hiking poles made by Leki, and only one was the telescoping style I like.  The color?  “Blue/Berry.”  A nice deep blue background, and a cork and white handle.  Yay!  But then they had to go and splash magenta accents up and down the poles.  Why?

(^If only Nugget’s trekking poles came in adult size.)

I’ll probably end up putting the “Blue/Berry” Leki poles on my Christmas list, or asking for them for an upcoming Mother’s Day.  Everything except the magenta accents is on point.

On one level, yes, there are bigger problems in the world than not being able to get a life jacket that isn’t purple, or trekking poles that aren’t pink.  But on the other hand… I do think it’s symptomatic of a world that is still too gender-normative, that it’s hard for women to find gear that is designed for our bodies, but that isn’t shoving socially gendered colors and patterns down our throats.  I’m a heterosexual, cis woman – my gender identity aligns with what is considered traditional in my social environment – who just happens to prefer orange and green to purple and pink.  I can wear a purple PFD, sure.  But what about a person who wants properly fitted gear but is harmed by gender constructs?  Doesn’t that person deserve to have a PFD – or a bike, or trekking poles, or any other piece of gear –  that fits them correctly but that doesn’t scream “lady adventurer”?

And if purple and pink is your jam, no shade!  You do you.  I guess what I’m saying is… wouldn’t it be nice if there were enough options so that we could all feel comfortable and joyful?

Just something to think about, outdoor brands.  Just something to think about.  And now I’m off to surf the web looking for an orange mountain bike that is both my size and also not for little boys.