When I was six, I was a little rebel. My hair was cut short with choppy, uneven bangs (the lady at Supercuts did me dirty); I would romp around the playground, chasing kids who were bigger than me and demolishing everyone in tag. I was sporty, spunky, and quick to run my mouth. When a girl in my class labeled me as a “tomboy,” I accepted her intended insult with pride. I stopped playing jump rope with the girls and started playing basketball with the boys. I decided that pink was the most detestable, disgusting entity on the planet. That to be loud, smart, and fast meant being “like a boy.” I took that and ran with it.
I think a lot of girls have a very similar experience. They go through their adolescence with this weird internalized misogyny; they go through their teenage years feeling this conflict between actually liking pink, but also their Doc Martens. Between wanting to listen to Justin Beiber and Nirvana. Between wanting to be loud, smart, fast, and feminine. People tell girls that we have to be one or the other. We have to be a tomboy or a girly girl. If you’re a tomboy, you’re seen as unattractive, genderless, and mean. If you’re a girly girl, you’re seen as weak, stupid, and incapable. I found myself in a trap: by trying to fight societal norms of what a girl should be, I began creating my own idea of what a girl should be. In trying to fight the rules society had pushed upon women, I was creating my own rules for how other women should act.
With time, I realized that femininity is inherently powerful. That I don’t have to choose; I could challenge norms of what a woman should be ~and~ enjoy being conventionally girly. In senior year, I realized that I actually love wearing pastel, colorful clothes — more than my everyday black hoodie and jeans. I wear traditionally feminine outfits, like dresses and skirts, pretty much every day because they make me feel confident and beautiful. Sometimes I pair them with my Doc Martens and I get hella compliments. I collect Hello Kitty paraphernalia, daydream about being Disney’s first Jewish princess, and really love the color pink. But it’s deeper than just how I choose to express my gender through superficialities; for me, femininity is also inherently political. I read feminist literature, take strong stances on civic issues, and fight for what I believe to be just. I believe that if feminism is not intersectional, it’s not feminism; I stand in solidarity with women of all races, classes, and sexualities, regardless of whether they were born female or not. For me, expressing my femininity is also resisting the structures that perpetuate patriarchy and white supremacy. It’s about using both my identity and my privilege to not only speak out, but also raise the voices of women who are often ignored. I think it’s radical to embrace femininity in multiple forms; to celebrate people who express their identity, whether it’s by adhering to the status-quo, or doing something totally different. Every time I follow my happiness (regardless of what the world may think) I embrace my femininity ~and~ I challenge society’s idea of what that femininity should look like.
My childhood self used to think that being a “tomboy” was being rebellious. Now I know that real rebellion is in celebrating the infinite ways we decide to share our individual selves with the world.