Most people know me as the petite spitfire who laughs too loudly, laces her every sentence with sarcasm, and rarely hesitates to say precisely what is on her mind. But back in my kindergarten days, I was the embodiment of Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes. I followed all of the rules, consistently raised my hand to speak during class, and never dared to color outside the lines.
I’m here to tell you about the day I abandoned obedience to become a 5-year-old feminist.
Behind my elementary school’s playground, there was a track, there was a kickball field, and then there were the mysterious, terrifying woods. Kids told stories of the wolves, bears, giant Harry Potter-style spiders, and other horrible (and often fictional) inhabitants of the woods that supposedly awaited them. The teachers made certain every student understood that during recess hour, these terrifying woods were absolutely off-limits; any student who dared to leave the sanctuary of the playground would be severely punished. Whether it was because we all feared our teachers’ wrath or the possibility of being eaten alive by giant monsters of the underworld, not a soul tried to venture into these woods.
At least not until one day when a group of boys stood at the edge of the forbidden forest provoking each other to step outside the playground limits. These boys were my friends at the time, and I regularly played the role of silent spectator in their cyclical taunting. Obviously, fragile young egos were on the line, and finally one boy with a rat-tail decided to remove the target from his chest and thrust it upon me. Me -- the sweet little girl who often had to hold back tears when she didn’t earn a sticker on her classwork. He averted his eyes from the other boys, aimed at me, and fired the phrase, “You won’t do it, because you’re a girl!”
He was wrong.
The second those hateful words left his mouth, I took off running directly into the woods. I ran outside of the playground borders, away from the judgment of my peers, and beyond the restraints of discrimination. I did not realize it at the time, but I was initiating a race with prejudice, self-doubt, and fear the moment I darted into those woods. While this race proves to be an ongoing one, I am satisfied to say on that particular day, despite the fact I spent the rest of recess in time-out, I won.
I have found that, much like that rat-tailed kindergarten student, society often uses gender as an inhibiting label. In the case of young women, roles of cowardice, inferiority, and vulnerability are assigned simply on the basis of one’s existence as a girl.
Listen up, ladies.
You’re judged based on how much or how little makeup you wear because you’re a girl.
You’re advised to dress a certain way to not be seen as a target because you’re a girl.
You’re presumed to smile and order a salad while on a date because you’re a girl.
You’re expected to keep quiet during intellectual conversations because you’re a girl.
You’re labeled as outspoken and impolite for having an opinion because you’re a girl.
You’re branded as bossy when you exhibit leadership potential because you’re a girl.
You’re supposed to be willing to sacrifice a career for a family because you’re a girl.
You’re told that marrying rich is a solid backup plan because you’re a girl.
You’re predicted to fail before you even begin to try because you’re a girl.
And you’re considered less valuable as an individual because you’re a girl.
But the good news is, you have the ability to overturn these assumptions because you’re a girl.
No, my rebellious moment did not change history. It did, however, teach me to strive to overcome the limitations placed on me because I am a girl.
Do not allow your worth or your abilities to be determined by your gender. Grant yourself the permission to strive for greatness despite the degrading voices speaking out against you. Run into the woods and remember that you possess immeasurable potential -- not because you are a girl but because you are a human being.
