If you peeked in on my fifth grade class, you’d see me sitting at my desk with my ankle-length jean skirt and tennis shoes. I’d be the tallest one in the bunch, I always was until high school. My hair slicked back in a tight ponytail and glasses covering a 1/3 of my face. Being Pentecostal, my classmates assumed I didn’t own pants and as I think back, I probably didn’t. I was a tomboy in every sense of the term. But what does that mean? Tomboy is defined ‘as a girl who enjoys rough, noisy activities traditionally associated with boys.’ So I enjoyed archery, had a BB gun and rode a go-cart. Why couldn’t every girl? Why was that strictly ‘associated with boys?’
I never thought about my activities or who I was or what I was until fifth grade. That’s when teachers and parents turn into gender police. That’s when my tomboy behavior should’ve hit the ‘she’ll grow out of it’ part of my life. But there I sat, legs open, hair frazzled, looking forward to the next foursquare match. I was really good at foursquare. I never thought about how my body moved or what I wore until adults in my life started asking me to modify myself. ‘You walk awkwardly’ and ‘Please tell Natasha to sit lady-like’ became common criticisms.
I was sorting through a box of old school papers a few months ago when I stumbled upon my fifth grade parent-teacher conference summary. I was a bright kid. Engaged. Interested. Excited. But that piece was only a fraction of what Mrs. F wrote. She decided to highlight my un-lady-like behaviors – particularly sitting. You’ll see in the image above – her suggestion to my mom was to ‘discuss lady-like to sit’ and with a star ‘talk to Natasha about sitting.’ I remember this. I remember my mom approaching the subject in the kindest way she could. But really what I want to say to Mrs. F 23 years later is FUCK YOU. I remember my jean skirts and they didn’t reveal any ‘private’ parts of my body. I intentionally wore them long. That way I could hop into my go-cart with ease. Plus, I needed the most mobility while playing foursquare. I wonder how many boys in my class were told to sit gentleman-like??
Mrs. F was trying to police my 12-year-old body. But why? It’s simple, I was a girl. I got expectations while the boys got exceptions.
Throughout my childhood, these conversations only made me increasingly insecure and uncomfortable. I didn’t suddenly become some sort of ideal version of womanly expectations. I just became open to being abused because I thought I was less than and not confident. So, Mrs. F, I wonder what were your intentions? What would sitting lady-like do for me, your student? Would it improve my grades? Make me kinder? Because your kind of feedback for a fifth grader does nothing but discourage and shame. I think you were afraid. You were afraid of a bold, brave girl who wasn’t limited by social gender norms. You needed to reel me in. Show me that limited path I needed to follow. And while your feedback and the feedback of so many others was painful, I tore through it. I blazed beyond it. I did not let you keep me on this limited path. I didn’t let you destroy who I was to become who you wanted me to be.
I have some advice to all you girls on being lady-like: Be whatever you need to be. Adults don’t know what they are talking about. Girls and boys aren’t two separate groups. They’ll sort you, they’ll label you and they’ll lay expectations on you. But you do not have to play within those lines. You get out there and be you.