Recently, a young girl posted a Hate video on YouTube asking for the boycotting of Girl Scout Cookies because they allowed transgender girls in troops. Well, it’s been bringing a lot of memories to mind – of girl bullies. Held up in Urumqi, I’ve got some time to think about stuff, and then write it – to you.
There are times, when I realize that I’ve broken past gender stereotypes. In my lifestyle and friends, it’s really not all that common. Not a lot of skirts, pink, shopping, etc. Although, I love a good pedicure and I already miss my RED lipstick and violet eyeliner.
“Tomboy”
It was a label I carried all through childhood and into early college. I never thought too much about it but I knew that some say this without the best intentions. But whatever, I wore the label – who cares?
Growing up, most of my friends were boys. I was the only girl in my neighborhood. I could climb trees as good as them, fight like the rest of them (defending my little brother), start a fire as fast as them. Most of the time, I was just accepted into the boyhood games.
Except, when we played “Army” or “War”. I was always the Nurse. I hated being the nurse. Why? I had to stay behind in our fort and wait for an injured. BORING!!!!!!!
When we played “Ninja”, I always had to be the “Pink Ninja” – gross.
My best friend growing up was Laura. The school system kept us separated from the same classrooms because we were trouble when you got us together. You couldn’t keep us apart for long. We had dance classes and Girl Scouts together, and spent every weekend together – alternating from one home to the next.
We may have played Barbies or Dolls…maybe…once or twice? Mostly it was cooking something with our moms, or playing outside, harassing our little brothers, or when Nintendo came out – Paperboy! I was accepted into her family, and she into ours.
Now, don’t get me wrong…I had quite a collection of Barbies, doll houses, the whole thing. I played with them. It was usually alone when I got bored of being the only girl in the neighborhood. I’d retreat to my room and dress them up and make up (HILARIOUS in retrospect) situations.
If you looked in my closet, it was mostly jeans and tee shirts. Perhaps a couple of dresses my mom made – but they were just uncomfortable. When I did wear them, it just made me stand out more…I actually felt like I got more negative attention. The neighborhood boys would tease or joke me because it was like I was playing dress up. I always walked home from school up into high school, so pants were always the best option.
Luckily, I was a strong and independent little girl – thanks mom! But we all had awkward adolescent years, looking for that sense of belonging.
So yeah, Tomboy, that was me.
In 8th grade, in an attempt to “fit in” I tried out, and was accepted, for the 8th grade football cheerleader squad. Ha!
First, I got in trouble for taking the hem out of my skirt so it would be longer.
Second, I got reprimanded for not shaking my butt enough.
Third, they would joke me about how you can hear me over everyone else. Yeah, I didn’t mime it like my short skirted, booty shaking comrades did.
Middle school, everything began to change. I knew I wasn’t getting invited to the parties, especially not the make out parties. We all got to hear about them the next week. What a great way to make insecure little kids feel even more insecure.
My first “boyfriend” was in 8th grade. This is too funny.
We had grown up together and played on the same little league team since I could remember. Basically, just pretty damn good pals.
Well, he was the captain of the 8th grade football team and we started “dating”. I mean, holding hands and talking on the phone for hours every night.
Let me explain to you what I looked like in 8th grade. It was 1993…we were listening to Pearl Jam’s “Ten” and Nirvana’s “Nevermind” was getting played ALL THE TIME – but I was more of a “Bleach” fan. I had long straight hair, wore my father’s flannels, jeans with holes in the knees, and Birkenstocks or Chuck Taylors.
Basically my boyfriend and I dressed the exact same, except he had short blonde hair and all the girls swooned over him. Yes, I was dating the boy all the middle school girls wanted…and I was scared to death of kissing. I worked my way out of that situation ALMOST every time.
There was a group of girls. These were the same girls that brought curling irons and hair dryers to school to fix their hair after they sat on the benches in gym class. Oh gym class…I would hide in the bathroom to change because I wasn’t ready for a bra. Still not!
I heard rumors how they all had devised ways to get him to be with other girls, a couple that I know of. I mean, SHIT, why should I be dating the most popular boy in school??
I didn’t even brush my hair!
Yep, little ol’ me. I brushed it in the morning and went about my day. By the end of the day, it looked a little stringy but it’s not like any of my real friends (boys) were like, “Hey Ellen, you should really brush your hair!” I got comments like, “you should learn to play the guitar” or “we should start a band” or “lets write some lyrics” or “i made you this mix tape”.
This is a very vivid memory and development point for me. Since that moment, I did everything I could to break out of the mold. To go against what was expected of me.
In high school, my parents started letting me spend the night at one of my guy friend’s house. Yep. Pretty awesome mom. The worst thing that ever happened there was probably too much beers or one of my friends lighting his, um, gas on fire. It would be me and generally 4-6 of my guy friends. Completely platonic and hilarious.
Senior year in high school. A lot of guys and friends thought it would be awesome to nominate me, the Tomboy Art Grrl, for Homecoming Queen. Yep. Well, I made it to the top 5 and they had to have a re-vote because there could only be 4. Either way, I could see light at the end of the tunnel…people were beginning to see people for who they are and not what they look like or what type of stereotype they fit in. (I remember there being some angry mothers who’s daughter didn’t make it to the top 5 – oh – get over it already!)
I’m going to own up and say that there were moments I wasn’t nice to people in high school. It’s all a defense mechanism and I’ve found these people and tried to make amends for my stupid behavior.
Now, I do love more feminine things. But, I laugh sometimes on tour. I think about how my last hair cut was a year ago. The smell of “vinegar/musk/lamb/man coming from my armpits…brushing my hair once a day and putting it back in a simple braid. The grooming of eyebrows and bleaching of the mustache is not tended to either. How about my weekly shower, or my record of 21 days without. Or how about riding a bus through Tibet with a police escort and knowing I have my own vomit and diarrhea all over my pant legs.
I wonder what those bullies are doing with their days…probably passing it down to their young daughters – as they wake them at 6 am so they can curl their hair for school. Gotta keep the hate in a vicious cycle.
So you know, thank you bullies…you girls…for making my life hell and only making me a much stronger, beautiful, and independent WOMAN! And much love to my real friends that have always supported and loved me no matter what – no matter what I wore or how awful my first steps into make-up were.
This is my story for the day. Peace, dudes!
(If you want to know what I looked like growing up…imagine “Blossom” and “Ellen” from “Pete and Pete” – it’s pretty much it)