Society and My Gender Walk Into A Bar

Words have subtle implications that constantly mold the way we see ourselves. A personal narrative on society's influence on gender identity from childhood to adolescence by Kennedy Ferguson '22

---

Art by Nicki Ganti '20

“Are you a tomboy or a girly girl?”

It was a simple enough question, said in a tone as light as the air it danced across, but it weighed down on my consciousness like a brick. We were both seated, surrounded by crayons, coloring pages, chocolate-covered granola bars, and loud conversations. It was snack time and afternoon activities at my summer camp, and me and the other second graders were having the time of our lives.

I don’t remember the boy’s face who spoke to me, but I do remember his words. I hesitated, as if this one question could make or break me.

Innocently, I asked, “What’s a tomboy?”

He was astonished. It seemed that in all his boyish years he had never heard such a silly question.

“Well...” the boy with the hazey face paused, “it’s a girl who acts like a boy.”

I pondered this idea. Who was I? How did I act? I’d never been more aware of my own existence before: my clothes, my hair, how I walked, and talked, and breathed, and filled up space. For a moment, I also thought, Who was he? How did he act? How was his clothes, hair, walk? How did he talk, and breathe, and fill up space? Suddenly, I was not in a room filled with second graders, all of whom in my childlike trustworthiness would call my best friends, I was in a room of girls and boys.

I’m not sure how or even if I answered, but I do know that this revelation struck me and stayed with me until I finished my coloring page.

“Time for recess!” one of the counselors shouted. And off I was, scrambling to be the first in line, my insecurities subsiding and replaced with an intense desire to be the first on the swingset.

At that time, I didn’t understand the depth of this event, but it was one of the first of many times my perception of gender would be influenced by my environment. Through things as simple as words and images, society molds our identities so that we fit gender norms and are assimilated to the status quo.

“I’M GONNA NEED SOME BIG, STRONG BOYS TO HELP

ME CARRY TODAY’S EQUIPMENT” thundered my fourth

grade P.E coach.

P.E. was my morning period. Everyone was brimming with excitement to go outside, where the crisp autumn air promised a cool game of soccer. In the sea of my large class, I searched for my best friend, but her eyes were already fixed on me. We scrunched up our faces and rolled our eyes respectively, expressions meant to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his statement. In unison, we shot up our hands, wiggling and stretching them in a vain attempt to be seen. But our coach’s gaze rolled right past us, as if we were invisible.

Rebellion. I didn’t turn a blind eye. There were billions of words spoken in a day but my coach’s lingered with me. He must’ve misspoken, I thought. Because though I wasn’t entirely sure who I was, I knew that I wasn’t weak.

Then, I was in my pajamas, covered by the mountains of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals I called my bed. The movie’s female lead was like no other I’d ever seen before.

“I’m not like other girls” she stated defiantly.

“Me neither!” I cried back to the television screen.

She was unapologetically strong, stubborn, wore black, and abstained from the color pink. She was everything I shied away from and everything I wanted to be. My middle school brain was at a crossroad. It wanted to fit in and stand out at the same time, and this duality and all of its contradictions left me perplexed. I didn’t know who I wanted to be, but eventually, I succumbed to the “I’m not like other girls” mindset. I was the anti-girl girl.

Art By Kennedy Ferguson '22

Let me be everything you think I’m not, my subconscious thought. Athletic. Strong. Undomesticated. Loud. Thought provoking. I’ll be all these things that I am and am not, in a vain attempt to be seen, to have a voice, to be valued. But I unknowingly embodied the system of people telling women and young girls who they can and can’t be. That if they weren’t society’s template of what a female should act like and look like, they were worthless. And the only way to avoid being held to the same standard was by not being a girl at all. By not being “like other girls”. This way of thinking and being was my attempt to shield myself against the world.

My gender is only a fraction of my identity, but because it is a target and a reason to question my intelligence, strength, and character, I cling to it like a lifeboat. Media and everyday interactions cement new ideas and viewpoints into our minds. Throughout my childhood, many voices told me what to be and how to be it. And even now, there are always peers, family, friends, shows, social sites, and more that give me the impulse to change who I am. I hope to preserve who I am, so that it is unchanged by the world. And I realize that though outside forces shape the individual, it is the individual’s malleability that determines whether or not they will be changed.