I was definitely born in the correct era. Growing up I always had a very keen sense of the woman I wanted to be. I never really saw myself being controlled by a man. That’s not to say that I didn’t think that we were equals, I just never saw myself “submitting” as was the model that I was supposed to follow growing up very religious.

This sense of empowerment brought a lot of trouble for me. I was very opinionated, very strong-willed and a tad rebellious. I grew up hearing that you should dress modestly so that you did not “make the men fall” when I was singing in the choir. I was only eleven or twelve and this thought concerned me.

If men are going to sexualize me because my armpit is exposed when I am supposed to be praising the lord, then I find the error lies with them not my pit. As a child, if my dresses being above my knees is offensive to men the blame should not be on me.

So, I would push the boundaries. My mother was convinced that I was dressing “to get attention” from my peers. Uhm. I was very full breasted at twelve, I really don’t think that I needed to dress to get attention from pubescent boys.

I had a rough period being forced to be homeschooled and having my siblings as my only friends. I was not allowed to talk to boys. They were seen as the forbidden fruit. But when we would talk I would have to have another girl in the group to “cushion.” It was also my fault if there wasn’t. Not the boys. So naturally, this double standard caused me to lash out. Everything I did was wrong and boys received absolutely zero blame.

I went behind my mom’s back and talked to one of my best friends on the phone at night. This was a hair-raising affair that caused me to get sat out of choir, grounded from the few friends I did have for six months, have my clothes and make up taken away, along with basically any sense of self I had.

My entire existence was stripped. My friend’s life continued without a bump, of course. I had to watch my friends come in for the holidays and not be allowed to attend birthday parties or sleepovers. I wasn’t even allowed to walk around church. I had to remain steadfast and stuck to my mother’s side.

If my mom ever felt I was being too out of control she would call a meeting with the elders or their wives or both to “put me back into my place” but nothing was happening with anyone else. Just me, the wild one, always me.

I grew up being force fed the Bible and all of the women praised this book called “Created to be His Helpmeet” what? Which was essentially a detailed overview of all of the ways you can joyfully and willingly submit, obey and serve your husband. I told my mom I read it but hell would have to freeze over and pigs would have to fly before I ever allowed myself to ingest such a concept. As if.

I am sure that girls that came from strong religious backgrounds can relate to this sexist struggle, even if your path isn’t exactly the same it's still #relatablecontent. I am almost thankful for it, despite the tears and heartbreak of the journey, because it led me to be the strong and educated feminist that I am today.