Pink is my favorite color. Not only do I love pink, but I also enjoy dressing up and wearing heels and putting on nice makeup. I enjoy the sun and think flowers are absolutely lovely, I like Dutch Bros and going to trendy coffee shops, and pop music can be some of the best music to listen to.

     Only four years ago, when I was in seventh grade, I would make fun of girls like me now. I was never mean to them directly, but I would avoid them and I would judge them silently. I considered them basic and assumed they were boring, lipgloss wearing idiots, only capable of discussing Starbucks drinks. I avoided bright colors and would only listen to edgy music.

     And I was sad. I felt alone and isolated, but I convinced myself that just made me cooler. I saw posts online about how artistic and intelligent the sad and angry people were, and I wanted to be just like them.

     Not only did I want to be just like them, but I didn’t want to be seen as feminine. Somewhere along the line, it was ingrained in me that being perceived as feminine or liking traditionally girly things was bad, was weak. 

     This experience wasn’t just mine. Nearly every female friend I have went through a similar phase of rejecting weak femininity in favor of strong and impressive hobbies. Interests and ideas that would make others say “she’s not like other girls.” 

     We all make fun of it now, but it was very real internalized misogyny that we had to unlearn in our adolescence. It’s a real issue that girls today are still facing. We grow up around phrases like “you run like a girl,” or “girls can’t do x!” Even more harmful, we had adults tell us that boys are always going to be stronger than us. It’s just science. 

     We were told girls mature faster than boys, so we always had to be the bigger person. But I don’t think I matured much faster than the boys in my grade; I think more was just expected of me. The boys could get away with murder, and the girls would be scolded for not cleaning the blood they left behind. Had I been treated the same as the boys, I wouldn’t have felt the immense pressure of having to be an adult at the age of ten.

     As I grew older, I saw more and more portrayals of dumb women in media, and I wanted to be different. I wanted to be the girl that didn’t need anyone else, the mysterious girl that nobody truly knew. I thought it would earn me respect, but it only brought me loneliness. 

     Now, I love being bright. I love being vibrant, and I love spreading joy. My favorite thing is to see people’s faces when you give them a compliment, and I smile at every stranger I see.

     Back then, I wanted to be dark and brooding. Being happy was too girly and made me look dumb. I wanted people to see me as someone independent, so I ignored everyone. I thought kindness and compassion were weaknesses.

     A part of me has always been the way I am now, I was just ashamed of it. I was ashamed of being bright and optimistic, because I had been taught that it was traditionally feminine. And to be feminine was to be weak. 

     Now I understand that I can like whatever I want, it doesn’t matter if it’s popular or not. If I like it, I like it. And that’s perfectly okay. Ever since I realized that in my freshman year, I’ve never been happier.