In defense of the teenage girl I will never agree with.
When I talk to any girl my age, it seems as though we live in two entirely different worlds. This shouldn't be so; we're both sixteen, both attend the same schools with the same backgrounds. We both enjoy shopping and music and books. But somehow, along the way, it seems as though our lives and ideology have become fundamentally different. I will gain this consciousness in a seemingly mundane conversation about a boyfriend, about a rhinoplasty or makeup. Or maybe I come to this realisation as we discuss sexual harassment and the #metoo movement: the way we think, the things we believe in are staggeringly different. Many people harbour contempt for girls who don't understand the damage of cosmetic surgery, who can't see the flaws in their boyfriends. Maybe, instead of hatred, they pity these girls, or are simply encompassed by frustration when faced with such oblivion. Although I'd say I fall mostly into the second category, pity or frustration are not the singular emotions I feel. This observation of mine is shallow; of course, everyone is going to disagree with me about something and everyone's beliefs differ in one way or another. However, I think there is something special within an argument between teenage girls, or perhaps between women in general. I say this because, despite the frustration or pity I may feel, there's always an understanding, a mediation, an agreement if you will. When I argued with my friends about how companies capitalise upon female insecurity, they were at first reluctant in their belief, but they listened. And maybe they will never agree or understand fully, maybe they will remain oblivious until death, but they nodded along and they heard me. They looked at me and validated me in their own little way, with exclaimed 'Oh my gods' and reassurances that they saw my point. When I had the same, or similar, argument with a man just weeks later, I was not awarded this courtesy. Arguing with a man feels like a battle: his weapons are patronisation and mockery, his shield a bemused and belittling glare. An argument with a teenage girl is a conversation and, though it might turn out to be a battle just the same, it is just that. It is a mutually fought war, not a one-sided beatdown disguised as such. Obviously, this is not applicable in every experience, maybe not even in half of them; some girls are born with this tenderness, but grow to nurture the malice of a man, armed with his weapons, hoping for a comradery that she will never gain. On the other hand, men are not doomed by their biology- men can also be caring and understanding, can learn to look you in the eye rather than down their nose. However, I hope to be what the other teenage girls in my life have been to me. I hope to provide them with understanding and warmth, even during our worst wars. And, even if I cannot stand her, even if we simply cannot see eye to eye, I hope she knows that, when the dust settles, she can find protection in me, no matter what.
