I vividly remember being six years old and camping on Turtle Island with my Girl Scout troop. I had never slept in a tent before, nor did I really know anyone else on the trip other than my older sister. However, both my mother and the Girl Scouts of America had encouraged me to be fearless and confident in every situation. Never in my life was I cooler than I was when I was hanging out with my sister and her other ten year old friends. In those moments, I was unstoppable.
Almost fourteen years later, I tend to think my six year old self would be disappointed in me. Somewhere along the line, I developed anxiety and depression that killed the can-do attitude I fostered for years. It even killed my attempt to reconnect to my scouting roots. Over the summer, I agreed to work at a Girl Scout camp in northern Virginia, up in the mountains with no electricity and limited running water. Personally, I love being in the middle of the woods away from all civilization (my inner Bigfoot instincts, if you will). However, mental illness doesn’t care how desolate your location is; it will find you. The shame I felt leaving what I had thought was my dream summer job was heavy and unrelenting. In the days leading up to me leaving, I felt like Hester Prynne–outcast and shameful.
Leaving would have been easier had I not loved everything the camp stood for. It catered to middle and high school aged girls–a notoriously rough age to exist in general. But despite the cattiness that is often pushed on that age group, I witnessed nothing but solidarity and support between the girls that had only just met. I spent part of my time there teaching axe and knife throwing, and I can honestly say that nothing is more satisfying than watching a group of young women rally together to support a timid girl find her own strength and nail a target. Some divulged to me that they thought of certain men, or the patriarchy in general, according to one girl, as they threw to give them the strength to throw harder. Sisterhood was ingrained in every aspect of the camp, even among the staff. They were the most loving and accepting group of people I had ever encountered. When I informed them of my decision to leave for my mental health, I was met with support and well wishes. Everyone had an un-killable love for life and the people around them. No matter what arose, or how bad their situation was, they always loved.
At six years old, I said the Girl Scout Law with a little too much enthusiasm every week. Now, I barely remember it, but I still carry that same spirit of unstoppable love with me. The Girl Scouts instilled in me that women can do anything, and I still believe that wholeheartedly. Now, looking back, I know my six year old self would be proud of me. I may have quit scouting, but I am a strong, confident woman who stands up for myself and for what I believe in. At the end of the day, Girl Scouts wasn’t about badges or sashes or camps, but rather, about helping girls become the women that change the world. And every day, by being honest and fair, friendly and helpful, considerate and caring, and courageous and strong, we are.