Recently, I turned 20 years old. “You’re not a teenager anymore” was the first thing my older sister told me, which is strange because for most of my life the familiar role of “teenage girl” was something that seemingly defined me.
The job of a teenage girl is to be a representation of hormones. We’re meant to be emotional, always changing our minds and quick to devote ourselves to obsessions that come and go. As I grew up, my life seemed to be divided into phases. Book nerd, fangirl, Swiftie, Directioner—people seemed more concerned about how long a phase would last rather than ask why it existed in the first place.
It had the subliminal message: my interests are doomed to be temporary, and somewhere along the way I started to believe it.
When I was 13 years old, I made the executive decision to renounce all “girly” and stereotypically feminine things after a group of guys asked why I was trying so hard because I wore a dress to school. I remember the wave of embarrassment as I denied it, but their opinions of me already felt solidified.
The task of getting rid of everything “girly” was exceptionally difficult considering I lived in a pink bedroom and wore dresses and skirts often. I never considered myself a hyperfeminine person, but looking at the number of clothes I owned that were sparkly, brightly colored or ruffled suddenly felt shameful.
If you asked me at the time why I traded my flats for high-top sneakers in the span of a week, I would’ve told you it was because they left blisters on my heel. The reality was that I had never seen girls being called try-hards for wearing Converse or Vans. In a weird way, I thought removing myself from femininity would make me feel more like a “real” girl.
I formed a new identity around the idea of disliking feminine things which eventually evolved into hating what people thought teenage girls were supposed to like. After all, people thought teenage girls were hormonal and crazy, and I surely wasn’t like that, right?
I wasn’t a “pick me girl” in the sense that I went around seeking attention and putting down other girls directly, but to say I didn’t have a toxic mindset would be a lie.
It’s interesting to look back at this time in my life as I’m sitting in front of my desk of pink-themed objects. It took a long time before I eventually realized that pink is actually my favorite color. I found out that I really do love frilly skirts and glitter. I like wearing dresses and buying heart-themed things, even if my 13-year-old self cried at the thought of it.
It took time for me to differentiate the parts of myself that wanted to fit in versus the parts of me that were authentic.
Maybe during the time, there was no separation between the two, but it was the realization that femininity doesn’t equate to weakness or being “crazy” that was the most freeing.