Elly Stortroen was 5 years old in 2016 when Tom Hackbarth, a Minnesota House member, cocooned himself in a gaudily colored sweatshirt and told his fellow legislators the time had come for hunters to think pink.
Elly, of Fergus Falls, didn't know Rep. Hackbarth at the time, but about six years later, when she and her grandpa, Mark Stortroen, strolled into Fleet Farm in their hometown, looking for hunting duds for Elly, she glommed onto a blaze pink camouflage deer hunting coat excitedly, as if its purchase came with the guarantee of a trophy buck.
"While hunting," Stortroen said, "Elly would rather wear blaze pink than blaze orange."
Yet some six years removed from Hackbarth's colorful legislative triumph, most Minnesota hunters still prefer to don obnoxiously hued blaze orange clothing rather than the equally obnoxiously hued blaze pink.
Pheasants Forever, for example, headquartered in Minnesota, doesn't peddle blaze pink gear to its 135,000 members, and the Minnesota Deer Hunters Association offers only a small selection of blaze pink vests, caps and jackets.
"Did I think legalizing blaze pink would help recruit more women to hunting?" Hackbarth said the other day. "It wasn't really my goal. But I thought it might help."
It hasn't: Women still make up only about 14% of Minnesota hunters, a figure that has stayed the same for the past 10 years.
Some women, it turns out, pan pink because they're offended by the notion that a special color would induce them to pursue deer or other game. Rep. Jamie Becker-Finn, a hunter, essentially said as much while arguing against Hackbarth's idea on the House floor. And a column last month in the online magazine NRA Women acknowledged the blaze pink phenomenon causes some women to see red.