The arts school gave us each rectangles in our yearbooks that we could fill as we wished. My junior year contribution was … eh. Your run-of-the-mill teenage girl collage full of inside jokes and tight model butts.
But my senior year contribution — that I like.
The fake article was a response to a (mis)perception around school that I was a bitch (I softened the word for the headline), which is itself one of the far-too-common consequences of American girlhood.
If you are pretty and confident and smart and sassy, you will be called a bitch.
You will be called a bitch roundly and loudly and it will continue until they, y’know, actually speak to you and find out, whadya know, you’re not actually a bitch.
That in fact you’re the kind of girl who has always loved girls, always cheered them on and propped them up.
You’ll win the high school naysayers over — that’s what the fake article was about — but it will start all over again in college (and should you or your partner decide to go into politics, heaven help you, it will continue for the rest of your life).
And I think it’s bullshit.