International day of the girl

Today is International Day of the girl. I don’t even know where to begin. This started out as a tiny Facebook post, and got too long, and now here I am.

It’s so funny how growing up I never really thought about what was right and wrong when it came to gender differences. Sure, I knew we were different. But it went beyond that in my mind.

I, like many others, just thought women had a certain place in society — I was taught that boys will be boys, that I better cover up and watch out. If someone touched me without my consent, it was probably my fault, and well, shouldn’t I be secretly flattered by it anyways? Just let it happen. This was normal. This was life.

This warped, deranged thinking was normal to me.

I never questioned why my mom was the only one working in the kitchen, or why the men would get together and discuss business and politics while the ladies served them tea. Men were smart and knew things. It all made sense to me. Girls had emotions and feelings and cried and had crushes on boys — guys were harder, tougher, scarier, meaner.

I observed that makeup mattered, push up bras mattered, that it wasn’t ladylike to cuss or sit with your legs wide apart. My ambition, my ultimate goal — was to be pretty, was to be gorgeous, was to have boys look at me, was to be desired — because what else was there? Every message I picked up on in society told me to be charming, giggly, sweet and a little bit helpless with wide, doe eyes.

Through a series of Indian movies and discussions, I learned that if I was to engage in sexual activities, I would become damaged goods and lose my purity and innocence. I learned that if I did nothing, I would be a loser and a prude. I must be a tease — just sexy enough, but not too over the top. Just helpless enough, just beautiful enough. A little bit too difficult to reach, but ultimately not reachable.

I should need men and depend on them, because they could help me and save me and take care of me. This lesson has not served me well. This has not helped me in my modern day relationships with men (as friends or more).

I am not blaming men for this. In fact, I learned most of these lessons from women, from watching women, from listening to women. So no, this is not a “male bashing post”. I don’t think for one second that men haven’t faced the same level of shitty gender norms that I have. But I can’t speak for them. I can only speak for myself.

Thankfully, I have learned. And I stand here today as an obnoxious, loud, bulldozing 31 year old. There are really bad, annoying things about me that are out of control. I am not very refined. I have my vulnerable moments. Sometimes, I do need people. There are things about me that are girly and soft — but because I want them to be, not because I automatically assumed I had to be. Sometimes, I feel so guilty for saying too much, too often. I am often encouraged to stop talking. Or for pushing too much — I am used to following directions and being told what to do, when I’m the one doing it I am visibly stressed. It is easiest for me to step back and sit down and let others do the heavy lifting. That is where I am most comfortable. But there is a certain thrill I feel when I take charge. It almost feels like something I’m not supposed to be doing, but do anyways.

But really, my “situation” is nowhere near the tip of the iceberg. Me talking about the difficulties of being a girl in the USA, although important, is not valid or relevant in light of what goes on elsewhere. I’m not a child bride, or a sex slave, or being groomed for the sole purpose of becoming a wife. I haven’t been raped, or denied education. I’m not someone who knows they shouldn’t leave their house after 7 pm. I am sorry, girls around the world, I am sorry for the inferiority complex you’ve grown up with, and are possibly walking around with today. I am sorry for the fact that you possibly feel like you need to be quiet, hide, or shut your mouth. I am devastated at the fact that you might feel like you need to disappear. You are so important. Your existence is crucial.

I’m sorry to my male and female friends who have had to deal with this confusing, shitty, jumbled message about gender roles their entire lives. Because it IS confusing, no doubt, for all parties involved.

I am sorry to my unborn daughter for the wave of crippling fear and uncertainty she will face when she is leered at for the first time. I am more sorry for the fact that she will get used to it.

I am sorry for the things she will have to fight for — to be taken seriously, to be treated fairly. I am sorry for the fact that she might not always be able to wear her kickass leather miniskirt and four inch heels — because if/when she does choose to wear such a baller outfit, she might be called a slut, a whore, slapped on the ass, and treated like a dumbass or a ditz.

I am sorry that she might take that message seriously. I am sorry that I KNOW she will face some form of abuse and I’m saddened I won’t be able to prevent it. Verbal, sexual — the chances of it happening, multiple times, are very fucking high. I am more sorry she might not even recognize it as abuse when it happens.

I hope she doesn’t second guess herself too much before walking into a meeting where its 95% men. I hope she doesn’t feel too out of place. I hope she is more confident about her abilities, and about her intelligence. I hope she doesn’t feel like she has to work thrice as hard to prove herself in the workplace.

When I was growing up, I didn’t even want to be a girl. I thought boys were better, and I wanted to be one of them. But now, I’m proud. I’m proud to be giggly and compassionate and strong and brave. I’m proud to cry hysterically one day and then walk around holding my head high the next day. I’m proud to weather storms as a woman and go head to head with guys on political debates and discussions. I’m proud to be stylish and sexy when I want to be, and I’m proud to just be nothing at all — genderless, just relating to someone on the subway and NOT thinking about what they think of me or my outfit or my face or my voice.

I’m proud to accept my womanhood as a beautiful thing. I’m proud to love my body, my ability to give birth, I’m proud to not be ashamed of my period or PMS or all the dozen things I thought were “gross” when I was little. I’m proud to be whoever and whatever I am at whatever point in time.

I’m proud of so many men I know for being amazing, beautiful human beings down to their core. I’m proud of the men I know that are fighting for equality every single damn day — not even with their voice, but by small, tiny actions that echo through society. It’s the little things, guys — it’s all the wonderful little things you do that help us all grow and move past these weirdly crappy times.

So on this international girls day…I’m thinking of everyone. All the moms, sisters, wives, daughters, friends. For all the women who feel more than a little shaken, damaged, confused, jaded. All the women out there who have so much to offer to this world. Stay strong, ladies. OWN yourself.