Live Lit: That Time I Tried To Read A Personal Essay Out Loud in Front of Other People

As a white, middle-class female, my only oppressors are the patriarchy and the sun. Thanks to my parents, though, I didn’t fully realize the threat of either of these things for the first third of my life, because to strengthen me against the latter they slathered me in SPF 70 sunblock, and to strengthen me against the former they gave me books.

As a little kid, I loved stories. Like many other young girls, I loved princess stories in particular. One of my absolute favorites was The Paperbag Princess. I’m not going to read you the book, but as you can guess from the title, there’s a princess. She’s going to marry a prince. Then one day a dragon attacks the castle, kidnaps the prince, and burns everything, including all her clothes. So she puts on the only thing she can find to wear, which is a paper bag, hence the title, and sets off the find the dragon. Through a series of crafty comments, she tricks the dragon and manages to free the prince she was all set to marry. Upon being rescued from a fire breathing beast by a resourceful and intelligent princess, he promptly insults her paper bag dress. She decides she doesn't want to marry him, after all, and she skips off into the sunset.

I loved other unconventional princesses too, including Petronella, a girl born to a king in a land where the royal family traditionally has three sons, and Cimorene, who runs away from the castle and volunteers to be a dragon’s princess because she wants to learn magic and use Latin to organize the dragon’s library.

But it wasn’t limited to just princesses - what I really gravitated towards was anything involving headstrong girls who saved the day by taking initiative and using creative problem solving skills. A lot of these heroines also happened to have fiery red hair - I’m not sure if that was something my parents did to try to give me someone to relate to or if I, as a lonely ginger child, just sought them out.

When I become older and graduated to chapter books, I was captivated by the total independence and physical strength of the classic character Pippi Longstocking. When I moved into longer novel series, I was obsessed with stories like Tamora Pierce’s Alanna, where the title character decides she wants to study fighting instead of magic. Girls aren’t allowed to be warriors, so she disguises herself as a boy. She trades places with her twin brother and keeps up the charade through years of study and swordplay until she achieves her goal of becoming a knight. She was stubborn and strong and spoke her mind and I wanted to be just like her.

Looking back on it, these books I read as I was growing up set a solid foundation for feminism, although I didn't know the word at the time. After these stories, it seemed like common sense - it never occurred to me not to consider women as equally capable, brave, and intelligent as men. I went most of my life assuming that feminism was the default - but the world eventually taught me otherwise.

I am fortunate not to have any extreme examples of how this happened. There was no sudden shock, no traumatic incident in which I was harassed or attacked. Rather, it was in many small ways that I realized the sexist structure our society imposes on women. It’s the men assuming you’ll be the one to move on the sidewalk, the nonsensical pant sizes, the targeted advertising - a continuum of messages that made me realize that women were seen as somehow different, somehow lesser.

I was told recently that I have “too many female friends” - which, like, what does that even mean? I suppose it stems from that chick flick cliche that girls cause all kind of drama, gossiping behind your back and ready to sabotage you at the first chance, but I never understood those movies because my experiences have been nothing like that. My female friends have never been anything but supportive and kind, so I don't get how you could possibly have too many of them. Other girls are great - they’ll give you spare hair tie or walk you home at night or tuck in your tag when it’s flipped outside your shirt. I don’t know why there are so many references in pop culture to how terrible girls are to each other, and I don't want to know how many women actually consider other women the enemy because of this conditioning.

I wonder how much of who I am has been shaped by this cultural context around me - things I think I chose for myself or qualities I take for part of my personality that are in actuality a product of my environment. Do I often refrain from speaking up in groups because I’m a quiet and introverted person, or is it because as a female, I’ve lived my entire life in a society where men talk more and talk over women? Do I actually dislike math and science, or have I just internalized the harmful misconception that women are inherently less skilled in STEM fields? What if the only reason I don't like pink is because I’m subconsciously trying to reject the rhetoric equating femininity with weakness, and by avoiding this color proclaim that I’m not “like those other girls”? How much of what I think of as me is actually shaped entirely by the gender roles that pervade our entire culture? Sometimes I feel bad for enforcing these stereotypes - like I shouldn’t be quiet, or like baking, or enjoy painting my nails - but if I don't do those things just to be contrary then aren’t I letting myself be controlled just as much?

I know that I have many privileges and I am incredibly fortunate in other ways. For one, I am apparently one of the very few women in the world who’s never been catcalled. Obviously, being able to go about my business without being subject to demeaning remarks or attempts at intimidation is a positive thing, but here’s what’s messed up about living in a society where this kind of sexualized harassment is so commonplace - I wonder sometimes if there’s something wrong with me because it’s never happened to me? Which is actually really disturbing, that some small part of me feels like I should base my self worth on my ability to be sexually objectified by strangers. Like, no one’s ever shouted disgusting, degrading things at me - and sometimes I catch myself wondering if it’s because I’m not pretty enough?

I’d like to tell myself it’s just because I’m just too intimidating to even approach - I have what I’ve been told is a severe case of resting bitch face. Even from a young age people often asked me if something was wrong because I looked angry or upset, and I had to tell them, no, that’s just my face, that’s just how it looks all the time… Later on I learned the phrase that explained why people apparently thought I was stuck up or scary before I even knew them, the phrase that I started using to reassure people that I was actually not a completely hateful human being - it’s not you, just resting bitch face, I promise. Here’s what I want to know though: why isn’t there a male equivalent? Do men just not have negative qualities projected onto their neutral existence? Why do women seem to owe the world something just going about their daily lives?

But here’s the thing: women don't owe the world anything. Nothing about ourselves should be up for the unsolicited advice of others. Unfortunately, this sense of entitlement to a woman’s appearance is extremely common, whether it be a man telling a stranger to smile or a prince insulting the paper bag dress of the girl who just saved him from a dragon. This is why stories are so important to me though - they refuted every misconception on what women couldn’t or shouldn’t do. Girls didn’t need a man, but if they wanted one they didn’t need to wait for him to make the first move - Petronella actively chooses to marry the sorcerer instead of the lazy prince she was originally trying to rescue. Girls could be physically strong - Library Lil is very muscular from carrying around encyclopedias, and when a tough biker gang refuses to move their motorcycles she moves them herself by picking them up and throwing them one-handed across the parking lot. Just as I was inspired by the heroines I worshipped growing up, we can all (figuratively, not literally) take a page from these books in recognizing the unlimited potential of women.