In third grade, I referred to my best friend as a girl, and she corrected me.
“I’m not a girl,” she said, proudly. “I’m a tomboy.”
I can imagine that as an applause line in a movie about a sports team.
I was acutely aware there was no version of that I’d be applauded for saying.
“I’m not a girl,” she said, proudly. “I’m a tomboy.”
I can imagine that as an applause line in a movie about a sports team.
I was acutely aware there was no version of that I’d be applauded for saying.
Comments
Can you imagine the reaction to that? Everyone would have assumed I was putting myself down. If it were overheard it’d be social suic1de. I’d never live it down. I’d probably have been sent to counseling.
It was a terrible, lonely feeling. Like who I was deep down was shameful. Being myself was not allowed.
Phoebe isn’t really a tomboy. She doesn’t reject femininity. She doesn’t think she has to act “like a boy” to be empowered.
When the first book came out, with its very pink cover, a few people said to me “oh, I bet your publisher forced that color on you.”
Naw, man. I picked it. Entirely on my own.
And, what I was saying in picking it was: girl-coded stuff isn’t less than. It’s not disempowering to embrace pink, both literally and what it stands for.
Well, no I’m not, it’s your mom we’re talking about, but you know what I mean.