Emiliana Terfetti

I turn 30 in a few months, but I don't think that counts as being an elder, haha. If anything, I feel like I could use some of that "passing elder female wisdom" right about now. ;-)

30 is practically the beginning, the starting line. But it is still notable to me that I’ve made this far. When I was a teenager, I couldn't imagine that I'd actually survive this long; I went on the assumption that I was going to die by age 25 or so. So here's to living -- cheers!

Anyway, some things I wish teenage girls heard more often…

"Many women have facial hair, and it's awesome! You just don't see it often because everyone shaves it off on a really large scale, and so it stays taboo. Same goes for armpit hair, and body hair in general. We've collectively learned to be ashamed of things that are common and totally normal."

"You don't have to shave anything, period. Letting your body grow its natural hair doesn't mean you 'want to be a man'. A woman's body isn't 'masculine' or 'mannish' just because she doesn't pluck and primp and wear makeup."

"It's fine and normal to not want to have children, no questions asked."

"Actually, 'boys will be boys' is a lame excuse for abusive behavior, and that thing that happened to you wasn't okay. You're not crazy for feeling messed up about it."

"Actually, you are like the other girls in some ways. You might have chosen some different paths, but the things keeping you all apart are constructed and don't serve any of you. The rift is there, it's real, but it's not a natural landmark -- someone dug it and is actively working to make it as wide as possible. You may or may not be able to bridge that rift, but either way, you deserve to know that the rift isn't inherent to us and didn't have to be there."

"If you feel alienated and don't see yourself reflected in the people and media around you, A.) You're not making it up; something is happening, and B.) It's being done on purpose, to your detriment and someone else's benefit. It's external and there is nothing wrong with you."

"Not fitting into the status quo is pretty much the coolest sh*t ever, and I commend you for your bravery. Thank you for being yourself, because you are valuable, and you're making the world a better place in the process. Just by being out there, you make room for others like you to come out of hiding."

"You've been born into a world that's been royally messed up by the people coming before you. I was too, but even so, I'm sorry. Everything is on fire, and it's not okay. There is no way to sugarcoat it. But you need to know there is also good out there, waiting to be found or created."

day 1,100 of being a girl. the dresses i have to wear to church are itchy and uncomfortable, but i have no choice. i have to wear them, or god will be sad. it doesn’t matter that i’m autistic and certain textures are hell on my skin, or that having my short hair pulled into pigtails is painful. i’m not a person. i’m an ornament. i’m a girl.

day 1,465 of being a girl. my mom plays the piano at home for me to sing show tunes. i request to sing the boy’s song, because the boy gets to have fun in his song, and be rowdy and goofy. it takes a while, but mom finally relents, and i get to be a kid for a moment.

day 1,825 of being a girl. for my 5th birthday, my grandpa takes me to walmart to buy a fishing rod so i can go fishing with him at the creek. he buys me a bright pink barbie fishing rod, even though i sulked at the very idea. it’s less functional than the other rods and, like most things with ‘girl’s’ in the title, mostly decorative. i hate it.

day 2,940 of being a girl. i’m pulled aside on my first day at a new school for wearing shorts that are deemed ‘inappropriate’. i’m admonished to never wear them again, or i will be sent to the principal’s office. i’m in third grade.

day 3,270 of being a girl. my best friend has a mary kay birthday party, where the mary kay rep lets us try out eyeshadow and mascara and blush. i beg my mom to let me take some home, but she says i’m too young, only relenting and buying me a couple lip glosses. i saw how i looked with my lashes so long and black, my eyes sparkling with pigment, and wondered why i had to be ugly, at almost nine years old.

day 3,670 of being a girl. one of my mom’s friends has a daughter a few years older than me. she wears glasses and, when i’m forced to get glasses, i study her to figure out how she’s still beautiful with her glasses while i’m doomed to be ugly with mine. i figure out it’s because she has her ears pierced. i ask to get mine pierced so i can still be beautiful.

day 4,015 of being a girl. my parents take us to visit our grandparents for the first time in a few years. an old man who previously paid me no mind sits behind us during church and tugs on my hair and runs his fingers down my neck and shoulders and back. he does this during the entire service, and i don’t move an inch, focusing completely on not reacting. maybe then he’ll stop. afterwards he tells my mom how stubborn i am, with a laugh and a wink. i’m thoroughly changed from this experience and see the world through different eyes.

day 4,400 of being a girl. i’m at the pool with my family and my mom scolds me. i only shaved below my knees and left my thighs alone, because that’s what the puberty booklet said some women do. my legs are long and i don’t want to waste so much time in the shower shaving them. she shames me for not removing all the hair, and i never show my legs unshaved again.

day 4,745 of being a girl. i get my first period. my stomach cramps feel like i’m dying. i tell my mom and she tells me ‘welcome to hell’ before handing me some pads. i go on to have period cramps so painful i vomit and have to stay home from school, shaking in the corner of my room with the heating pad on full blast. my periods are three days long, i bleed so heavily. but anytime i express an opinion that’s contrary to the boy i’m talking to, he says i must be on my period. why else would i be opinionated? that’s all periods are - a time when girls and women are obnoxiously pissed off for silly emotional reasons, not crumpled on the floor dry-heaving because their stomach has nothing left to give up.

day 4,800 of being a girl. we’re gathering for family prayer before bedtime when my parents tell me to change shirts. i’m in a wide-strap tank top. they say my ‘boobs are all out’. my a-cup, barely developed, thirteen year old boobs are offending them. i throw on a sweater and want to crawl under a rock.

day 5,600 of being a girl. i stop wearing makeup and only paint my nails occasionally. i’ve gotten into 1960s hippie culture and my mom loathes it. she begs me to wear makeup. i tell her i feel beautiful exactly as i am. she shuns me until i relent, asking her if she’ll give me the money to buy new eyeshadow and lipsticks. she happily agrees, and finally starts to look at me again.

day 5,700 of being a girl. i’m taken to the emergency room in the middle of the night for what i believe is appendicitis. the pain is unbearable. i’m given a pill for nausea and then interrogated by several doctors, without my mom present, about whether or not i’m pregnant and am i really sure i’m not? and am i absolutely telling the truth that i’m a virgin? really? after an hour they finally ultrasound my abdomen and discover an ovarian cyst so large, it’s a millimeter away from them having to surgically remove it. i’m given tylenol and sent home without any sort of apology.

day 5,940 of being a girl. my geography teacher tells the class they have a new student, and i beam since it’s me. the boy sitting in front of me gets excited. ‘a new student?’ he says, turning around to see me. i smile, thinking maybe we’ll be friends. ‘oh.’ he replies, thoroughly disappointed at my appearance. i go home and cry for hours.

day 6,300 of being a girl. the boys i eat lunch with have a lot of opinions about women. women who wear makeup are ugly, they say. they sleep in it and pile on more in the morning. only the girls who wear ‘natural’ makeup are beautiful. it’s ugly when they stand up after class and pull their pants up. it’s annoying and stupid when they get into geeky stuff like doctor who. but have you heard about this new superhero film?, they ask each other. let’s go to the comic book shop after school, they invite each other. i haven’t showered in two days, they say with guffaws. i try to make conversation. they act like i’m not even there. i’m not, not really. not in a way that matters to them.

day 7,000 of being a girl. i cut my hair short and dress in my usual comfortable clothes. my mom berates me, asking me how i think i’ll ever get a husband dressed like that. she asks me why i want to look like a boy, why i think i look good the way i dress when i very clearly do not. she yells at me about this for hours on several different occasions, until eventually, i think maybe she’s right.

day 7,550 of being a girl - except now i think i may as well try to be a boy, since being a girl was never anything good for me, and everyone is always asking me if i’m trans because of my hair and how i like video games, so maybe they’re right. i just feel like a person, not a girl, and all my life experiences have taught me girls aren’t people. i tell my old friend from high school about this over email, and his first response? asking me if i’d like to have sex with him before i transition, just so i know how it feels as a girl. i politely decline. it isn’t until i tell my therapist about this that i realize how fucked up his response was.

I’ve realized how much more attracted to other women I am when they look like myself, and when they are not performing femininity. It’s really given me a new perspective on what I actually want to see when it comes to depictions of women in the media, and why there always felt like there was, subliminally, something off when I compared them to other male characters. They are, by comparison, so archetypal, so stripped of their humanity. And I never understood why I was so attracted to women in books and in friendships where we were dressed down and vulnerable, but seeing what men and even other women would call attractive in females (heels, shaven everything, makeup and curls, tight dresses, that “seductive” and coy demeanor void of individual personhood) always made my stomach feel knotted. It made me doubt that my attraction in other women was even real.

being rude, challenging, female-centric, and hostile for seemingly no reason makes men confront what they expect of women. In certain situations it can force them to be the bigger person and pratice holding space for womens anger. It can make them realize the male perspective isnt actually the default. And, honestly? Its just fun.

Detatch yourself from influencers, lifestyle vloggers and celebrities now. Stop giving your time and energy to people who have been professionally stylized, filtered and photoshopped. Stop watching, modelling and comparing.

Cut off negative voices that are feeding your stress.

Instead, pay attention to women in your real life. Look at the older women of your family. Look at the energetic and hopeful young girls. Look at the women you work with, look at the women you meet every day, listen to your friends and relatives.

girls don’t act like this; obviously there is something wrong with me, and i need to fall into self-hatred and self-suppression in order to be palatable and acceptable to my peers.

girls don’t act like this; obviously my individual behaviors mean that i need to adopt an individual microlabel that “fits” me and excuses my behaviors. femininity and sex stereotypes are for other girls and women, not me.

girls don’t act like this; obviously this can be put down to my youth and naivete, and i need to start adopting feminine behaviors and act more according to sex stereotypes. girls and women who continue acting in “un-feminine” ways have internalized misogyny, or they aren’t actually girls/women.