NOT MY FRIEND
by Joyce, 16, Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, 2005

Barbie and I have never been friends. During recess, all the other girls would crowd around her, combing her silky blond hair and talking about what she should wear the next day. While the other girls idolized her, I sat to the side with Batman in my pocket, secretly wishing I could pull out Barbie’s perfect hair. The other girls did not want to play with me because my hair was weird-looking compared to Barbie’s flawless locks. In fact, there was nothing about me that even remotely interested them. I envied Barbie and the many friends that Mattel had made for her.

I was never considered a typical girl. My father often called me a tomboy because I always played with the boys in my neighborhood and was nothing like the “normal” girls. With my short choppy hair and baggy unisex clothes, I was often mislabeled as a boy.  At the start of each school year, my parents would intentionally buy me frilly pink dresses in hopes that none of my teachers would mistake me for the opposite sex that year.

However, my parents' efforts proved useless. One school day, as I was about to enter the girls' bathroom, two hall monitors stopped me.  With quizzical expressions, they asked, "Do you know how to read the sign?  It says 'Girls' Bathroom.'  You're heading into the wrong one!" As they walked away from me, I felt horrified.  I stood in front of the door, stunned, holding back tears.
During sophomore year, I joined an all-girls leadership program, the Sadie Nash Leadership Project, and was introduced to many feminist theories. More importantly, I was supported by other girls who understood my struggles and listened to my stories. With their support, I began to see myself as a leader and an empowered young woman, not fearing anyone else’s opinion about me. As I adapted to the new environment, my insecurities and self-conscious thoughts slowly began to fade.

Through classes and workshops at Sadie Nash, I realized that the problem was not me, but the way we are brought up as children. Little girls play with Barbies clad in pink miniskirts, with long silky blonde hair and a seemingly perfect figure that we hold to be real and possible when it really is not. As we grow older, we are presented with near-naked models and told that it is these narrow-figured women who define “sexy,” “feminine,” and “beautiful.” We are forced to fit into a mold that society has made for us. Only when we conform are we considered to be “real” women.

Now, after two years of Sadie Nash, I have revised my thinking and acquired the language to explain the isolation I felt as a child.

Contrary to what society imposes on females and has imposed on me, I know that the way I see myself is what really matters. I am an empowered woman and will not allow others to decide for me what is beautiful and what is unattractive. Other people may think I am not feminine and that my short hair is unappealing but I know my own beauty, and it is not dependent on the eyes of others. I am foolish for ever envying Barbie and her plastic friends; Batman will always be my true friend, sitting snugly in my pocket.