In my pre-college years, I was never the “leader” type. A majority of my time was spent trying to appease everyone, be it my peers or my teachers. I was overly careful to not step on toes, to be smart but not annoyingly smart, to laugh at the fart jokes told by my male classmates. I much preferred to fade into the background, to be the friend to everyone versus the smartass that spoke in class. Because of this, I began letting my ambitions fall to the side. In middle school, I was focused on finding a boyfriend versus trying to succeed in my studies–my teacher at the time pulled me aside to discuss how I only listened to the boys in my class and how I didn’t focus on the women; how their opinion was the only one I valued. I shrugged this off–if the girls on TV could fit in by being ditsy and agreeable, why couldn’t I? I never saw participating in school as the thing I needed to be worrying about, and God knows I never thought to run for student government or to voice my opinions in class. As long as I was getting A’s on assignments and the attention of boys, it didn’t matter. Let the men hold positions of power, I’ll take the attention.
This was a trend that continued through high school. I refused to participate, avoided any clubs or activities that were too “nerdy,” even purposefully dumbed myself down in an English class that I happened to share with a high school boyfriend, even though English was my favorite subject (and current major). I had a paralyzing fear of being too strong of a woman, of being too active in discussions or being smarter than the boys that surrounded me. While I always respected intelligent women, I just didn’t have the desire to be one. I wanted to be everyone’s friend, one of the guys—even if that meant sacrificing my own intellectual stimulation. Strong women were all around me, they just weren’t gaining the positive attention I desired.
Looking back on this version of myself now, I am embarrassed and ashamed. I am upset to have played so much into a culture that told young women that they weren’t good enough unless they were agreeable, to have spent so much of my formative years concerned with what others wanted versus what I wanted. Entering college, I was determined to make a change. I had the pleasure of working under numerous amazing women, of being surrounded by incredibly knowledgeable female professors and peers. I was able to become president of a huge club on Tulane’s campus, to assert myself in my school’s ecosystem and become more than just someone in the background.
This election has made me reflect on my path to who I am today, and how influential someone like Hillary Clinton would have been on me through my pre-teen and teenage years. Being a young girl and seeing only men in office, only men taking leadership roles and dominating conversations and discussions, I never thought I had a place amongst them. When Hillary announced her candidacy, I began thinking about how the thirteen year old girls out there might now run for that student council spot, how maybe the shy nine year old would not be afraid to raise her hand in class. Hillary, to me, was a beacon of hope to all of the girls out there that thought positions of power were only for the men. I became increasingly excited to see another Clinton presidency, to be able to tell my daughters that they could do whatever they wanted because there was a woman in office in 2016. I was excited at the prospect of so many girls skipping the ditsy girl phase in favor of a smart girl phase, of little boys respecting the opinion of little girls because the president was a woman and who were they to argue with that?
On November 9th sometime around 2AM, I began to cry. I watched as the dreams I had for the future began to slip away, how the election was being turned over to one of the most bigoted, hateful people in recent history. And, honestly, I haven’t stopped crying since then. I cry for the girls out there that will continue to be stuck in this cycle of not being good enough. I cry for the survivors of sexual assault who now have to watch as an accused rapist is taking over one of the largest offices in the entire world. I cry for the people of color, for the fact that at my old high school there was a reported incident today of white students telling hispanic students to “go home,” an incident that never would have happened just last week. I cry for all of my LGBTQ friends and family who a little over a year ago were told that their love was valid and recognizable under law, only to have the prospect of it all being taken away so quickly, for the trans men and women who are fearing to walk the streets this very minute. I cry for the Muslims who are scared to openly practice their faith, for the Jews whose shops were vandalized in Philadelphia, for the disabled people and veterans and anyone else that has been publicly insulted in these past few months. Mostly, I cry for America. We are endorsing a culture of hate, a culture of telling anyone who isn’t a white cisgender male that they just aren’t good enough to be in this country and that their opinions and lives aren’t valid.
As we continue to move into this tumultuous future, I urge everyone to practice love and to provide encouragement. The little girl in the back of the classroom who now more than ever feels as if though her opinion isn’t valid needs your support, as well as the millions of people in this country that have essentially been cast to the side with the election of Donald Trump. No one knows where to go from here, but the least we can do is do it with love.
And to any pre-teen and teenage girls reading this out there–answer the damn question when your teacher asks. Make your student council posters and have a kickass campaign, don’t laugh at the fart jokes if they aren’t funny. Even if we didn’t put a female in office this time around, we are so so close to breaking that final glass ceiling. Support each other, support your classmates that are different than you, support the future of your country. Spread love and refuse to play into this cycle of bigotry.
Because, as it goes, at the end of the day love trumps hate.