Since childhood, I have gravitated toward all things “girly.” Exclusively pink and Barbie princesses for as long as I can remember. Then it hit me– the cool girl complex and the pick-me phase. Years of internalized misogyny resulted in me not wanting to be “like other girls,” and I began to avoid all things girly. 

I gravitated toward black and blue. Not due to any preference, but because they were the absence of brightness and femininity. In elementary school, I started wearing black leggings everyday because it’s what my cool, athletic friend would wear. She was so cool and not at all like other girls. She wore her hair in a high ponytail everyday, which, when paired with her nose that every woman in Hollywood showed her plastic surgeon, gave her a fairy-like quality. But she was not a fairy because she was effortless. And cool. And played sports, like the boys. And I wanted to be like them, be interested in their interests, and most of all–be liked by them.

In these dark times, I wanted to separate myself from my feminine interests. My problem was that I loved those things: Fashion; celebrity gossip; high heels; polly pocket; Twilight; littlest pet shop; and pink for god's sake. It’s not that people who aren’t girls can’t enjoy these things, these things are just perceived to be undeniably feminine in our society. 

I felt like I was being pulled apart at the seams. Constantly pushed between being my true self and being a cool girl. And you could tell. We’ll use seventh grade as an example, even though this phase lasted years, I would wear my black “Thrasher” hoodie every day with black jeans (even though I hadn’t touched a skateboard in years). But I owned this adorable burgundy corduroy skirt with pink flowers printed all over it. Every so often I would wear it. You know how Edward Cullen’s skin sparkles in the sun? Those days were my sun and that skirt was my sparkly skin. I was being outed and revealed for who I am. Because, god, I loved that thing.

There is nothing wrong with being a “tomboy” or having typically masculine interests. Antithetically, the same cannot be said about girly girls. Young women and girls are shown time and again in popular culture that this is not the case. I mean, have you seen Mean Girls? The plastics wear all pink, are obsessed with fashion, and exclusively wear high heels.  They also happen to be completely morally bankrupt and lack any substance. No, I couldn’t possibly be like them. Boys don’t like mean girls. And if boys don’t like me, what am I here for?

The binary in which femininity and masculinity exist needs to be expanded to encompass different gender expressions on a broader spectrum. This kind of thinking became a turning point in my pick-me arc.  Exploring the limitations of the gender binary made me realize that I didn’t have to be just one thing: masculine or feminine.  I didn’t have to choose, and it didn’t really matter what boys thought of me.

Many years have passed since my pick-me phase, but I still struggle with my identity. I don’t even know what my true self wants. In all honesty, I think that takes a lifetime of de-brainwashing ourselves to find out. All I know is that I listen to myself now. I dress in a way that lights me up inside. Whether it’s “like a boy” with boxers peeking out of my baggy jeans or looking like the pink panther threw me up, with pink stockings, pink skirts, pink everything. I love color. Bright oranges, blues, and greens inspire me. I also love black, not for its lack of pigment, but because it is beautiful in its own way.

This is all to say that being feminine, or “girly,” isn’t a bad thing. I sincerely hope that little kids growing up today don’t feel the same way I did. I can’t say that I regret my not-like-other-girls phase, because it taught me so much about how our society views gender and shames certain expressions of gender.  However, I don’t want kids growing up today to go through the same difficulties I did. I hope that future generations have a more nuanced and critical understanding of the gender binary. I see a world that acknowledges the significant role clothing can play with gender expression and doesn’t shame anyone for their expression or interests on the basis of gender.