introduction

Thanks so much for welcoming me into the All-Girl Army! I'm really excited, because I feel that this is both a great, tight-knit community and a very necessary project- that is, bringing young women to understand feminism.

So, you might be wondering who I am. Or you might be rolling your eyes at this introduction, but I'm hoping it's the former. I'm Julia, a freshman in a suburban high school in Northern Virginia. I'm learning to adjust to high school and fit in without giving up my values, as well as history and science and Latin and all that other stuff. I love to sing and dance and speak out. I think life's often taken too seriously and that we need to inject a little crazy, immature humor sometimes.

I've been sitting here for ten minutes staring at a blank screen, not quite sure where to begin or how to introduce myself. Over the past few days I've been quietly reading your journal entries, so to some extent I feel like I already know many of you. The outsider looking in. I've been impressed, moved, saddened, enlightened, and confused by all the different things you've had to say, but the strongest sentiment I've brought away from my lurking is that I'm so very glad you (we) have a place to say it.

Last night I was telling a friend about AGA, and was countered with every possible reason why I could not (or should not) be a feminist. I like to wear short skirts and makeup, I enjoy watching chick flicks, I like boys, I come from a religious family – gawd forbid I don't fit any of the cliched stereotypes. The irony is that I hardly remember a time when I didn't consider myself a feminist. The word has been bounced around by my mother for as long as I can remember, and from a young age my identity as a feminist was simply something that I took for granted. The shift from being diffident in my feminism to taking an active stance has been a gradual one, and at times, a bit discouraging. What I really appreciate about a community like this is having a whole group of women and girls to hold my hand while I continue to figure out this complicated f-word for myself.

There is likely little need to say this, because if it isn't already self-evident, it will be very shortly.

But I'm going to say it anyway.

These young women you'll read here? They are an absolute inspiration. They are amazing, revolutionary, insightful, motivated, intelligent, driven, compassionate, brave. They are astonishing women, all of them. There hasn't been a day that passed since I started cultivating this project and hearing from them that something they have said hasn't brought me to the best kind of tears. They are not just everything we want our daughters to be: they are everything we want to be ourselves, no matter our age.

I always hate writing bios. To me, it's like a recipe for who I am. Except, I am constantly changing, rearranging, discovering, inventing. But here I go nonetheless.

Yesterday, at work (Taco Time), a man came in. "You're the first Janessa I've ever met!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, reading my name tag, as if this was some monumental moment, that the girl selling him tacos and mexi-fries was, indeed, a rarity.

If only he knew!

My mom gave me my name; it came from a Barbara Taylor Bradford book.

For a year, when I was 6 and old enough to remember but still young enough to not see the struggle, my mom and I were by ourselves. Single parenting wasn't easy on her, but that was the best year of my life. We now live with my stepdad of 11 years, and while he provides financially somewhat (pays bills but not my tuition), that's where it ends. My mom has feminist ideals, but for her to truly call herself a feminist (she doesn't), she'd have to seek her own happiness. And that makes me sad.

My favourite books, DVDs and CDs are always stacked around my desk. Notebooks, my thesaurus and a never-ending supply of PaperMate pens (that I have friends send to me from the States) are always in my reach. I surround myself with these items because they define me, and sometimes it is so much easier for me to talk about matters close to my heart by letting others speak for me. However, the most effective way for me of letting others speak - is to write.

If you want to know who I am, all you have to do is read my stories and my poetry and let the characters speak for me. They will jump up, out of the page, and sit down with you over a cup of coffee and explain.

“The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away.” -David Draiman, I'm Alive

A blue cat-o-nine lays idly on the stained black sheets while Nicki Jaine warns me of pretty faces in her lulling, raspy sort of way. A Dark Cabaret is the name of the record. Massive, black denim curtains swallow up whatever daylight might viciously seek to disturb my sanctuary. A little Grim Reaper Beanie Baby(tm) watches me from the bookshelf.

My name is Irmelin, and I am that spooky (but devilishly sexy) young woman who carries a parasol to go outside, writes aggressive poetry in dragon-adorned notebooks, and makes the room jolt with the occasional reassurance that my vocal cords are well in tact, healthy, lubricated, and dangerous.

Hello. I'm Dianna, your average 12-almost-13-year-old girl-NOT! I'm not into make up, revealing clothing, or pink, or just about anything girly-girl. Nor am I going to slit my wrists. Or anything like that. I'm actaully pretty Ok.

I'm human, that's the sad truth. I'm female and I really enjoy being that way. Despite the fact that I hang out with boys all the time, I'm pretty feminist. I can dress however I want and there are no rules just 'because I'm a girl' (well except that annoying once-a-month deal.)

Another unusual thing...I'm Pagan. Not a Satanist, but a Pagan. A Goddesses' follower is me. I could never be a Christian because it seems too male-oriented.

One of the questions on the original application was about female role-models. I took some time to think about my answers before I wrote them down and most of them came to me quickly, at the spur of the moment. But that one made me stumble and I actually had to stew over it for several days until I came back to it and wrote down the simple truth: I've never had a female role model. But ironically, I think that is a very big reason for why I feel so passionate about feminism and the role of woman now.

I grew up in the German countryside. My extended family owned several farms and I spent my school-free time digging in the dirt, running through the fields and swimming in the river. I was a real tomboy, and my companions during that time were all male. My younger brother, his best friends, the boys from down the street - they were always by my side and I was one of the guys. It never occured to any of us that I might be different.

Simple enough. I knew from my first bath that I was genetically, biologically female, and I had more than enough adults to remind me that I was still a child. However, I quickly learned that there was more to "girl" than that. There were restrictions, and expectations, and boundaries.

They didn't hit me at first.

Protected by the relative androgyny of childhood (once I escaped the frilly pink dresses that dominated my preschool years), I wandered blissfully from baseball practice, to my best friend Andy's house, to my Future Engineers camp--I was good at math then, good enough that they shunted me ahead a year in elementary school.

Ladies, Men, Bois, and Grrrls,

I think a proper introduction is in order. I’m hoping that this is only the first of hundreds of posts that you’ll read from me, so let me tell you where I’m coming from, first, and then in future posts I’ll tell you where I’m at.

My name is Andrea. I grew up in a small Texas suburb with an older sister, numerous cats, a stay at home mom, and (consequently) an at-work dad. Overachievement was explored in elementary school, rebellion was explored in middle school, and high school was the time when I fully realized the value of education.

It was my middle school rebellion-stage that led me to Feminism. Middle School is always described as a tough time for everybody…I’d argue that I had it tougher than most, but maybe that’s not true. I think everybody should have their own healthy revolution in middle school. Mine came in the form of what people deemed a boy haircut, a cheap guitar and an affinity for sewing. Appaaaarently I was the only one that thought my new look was awesome, though. If there’s anything I can tell you about middle school, it’s that those kids are ruthless. I remember this one time, some chubby boy cut infront of me at the vending machine, and justified it because he “Grew up in fashion, and I obviously didn’t.” Whatever, dude.