Sometimes I start to think that I am not a “real” girl. I loathe makeup, I’d rather go in for a good, hard karate session than a pedicure, and don’t even get me started on Nicholas Sparks movies. Just. Ugh.
And then I realize what I’m saying and I kick myself in the face. Mentally, I mean. Because I’m buying into the silly teenage feminist idea that BEING A GIRL IS BAD. You see vapid, orange-tanned girls on TV and swooning at Twilight showings, and you tell yourself, I won’t be like them. You see girls shopping and buying pink clothes and think they’re somehow less intelligent than you are. You tell yourself that you’re not the same gender, that somehow you are better than being A Real Girl.
For instance: Lady Gaga is a feminist. And totally badass. But you don’t see her eschewing all things girly because of what she believes. Lady Gaga knows what I wish I could always remember: lipstick, fishnets, and pretty dresses make you no less strong. She puts on some ridiculous and gorgeous lace-and-leather concoction, gets on stage, and sings about being a free bitch and finding your freedom in the music (find your Jesus, find your Kubrick!) River Tam from Firefly chopped Reavers to bite-size bits in a skirt (and in a matter of seconds!) Sailor Moon saved the world by moonlight and worried about her looks, the boy she liked, and her friendship by daylight. Being traditionally girly and kicking ass? So not mutually exclusive.
So the next time I throw on whatever’s clean, look in my mirror at my short hair and lack of glitter lip gloss, and grab my karate uniform, I won’t think “I’m not a real girl.”
I will look myself in the eye and say “I am a girl, and damn fucking proud of it.”