Week 2: Equal Parts Good Girl and Bad Girl

When I was growing up, I thought my worst possible fate was disappointing my mom. It seemed like every time I opened my mouth, my words were met with her stories of, "If I ever spoke to my mother that way..."

So, I learned to be silent. I learned her cues for smiling and nodding and "yes ma'am" by the age of two, and I tip-toed everywhere I went--afraid too much motion too fast would upset her. At twelve, I was still tip-toeing. I had straight A's, because I vowed to never repeat the grounding I'd faced after getting a B in Math in the 3rd grade. I had a permanent smile painted on my face (To this day, I think the reason I'm so "known" by my smile and my laugh is because I've grown to use those things as armor. I would get done speaking to someone at church and my mom would immediately say, "Smile. Why did your face look like that while we were talking to them? You could at least smile." Now, the corners of my mouth rise without my control.)

By the end of high school, the tip-toeing was getting old. This was also right around the time that I realized my mom couldn't be disappointed by things she didn't know I was doing...

Bingo. This is where things really started to go downhill for me. I'd created two complete versions of myself, the Good Girl and the Bad Girl, and neither of them were real. I wasn't myself when I was acing every test and project and assignment I was handed (I was killing myself to do so, for her benefit). I wasn't myself when I was sneaking out almost every night of the week (I did this purely to spite her). I was only myself when I could hand extra poems to my English teacher after class for her to read over the weekend, or when I stayed in a classroom during lunch to read the books I couldn't let my parents see, or when I half-walked, half-ran to volleyball practice after school so that I could finally feel like I could breathe again.

Earlier this week I had a conversation with my little sister, who's 13, and I asked her if she ever felt trapped like this--like she had to create two faces for herself. She said no. Actually, she said:

"I think we're both really the same actually. Like, we were the same when we were little and we're the same on the inside. Except all those rules made you into one of those kids who does what Mom and Dad say when they're around, but does whatever they want on their own time. But for me, it's just made me want to be bad. I kinda like being the kid the teachers have to tell to be quiet, and I kinda like when Mom yells at me for getting a B or a C. I just sit there and be quiet and pretend like I'm listening and then get in trouble again the next day."

AND I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS.

I wish that I did, because there has to be so much packed into that tiny paragraph spoken by someone who only recently began really speaking to me at all. What I do know is that Isie has never been one to shy away from who she is or what she believes. I've always felt comfortable talking to my dad, and I'll always share my opinion with him, even if we disagree. With my mom, I've learned that silence is my best bet, because she doesn't really believe in differing opinions, only arguments.

But Isie doesn't care. As soon as my mom or her teacher or some random guy off the street starts talking, she will not hesitate to say, "I don't believe that" or "Do you really think that" or he most famous response: "Actually..."

She will kill you with the Actually.

She's still young. I guess I am too, but what she has already taught me, and what so many of my closest friends and teachers and role models have taught me, is that the Bad Girls are never really that bad. They're the ones who speak their mind, who wear what the want, who don't care about your ego enough to hold their tongue when you're clearly wrong. They fight for the things and people they care about. They express themselves as they please, even in the form of *gasp* sex and swear words. They're all of the things this world has told women they can't be. That's why they're "bad." But--I'd like you to look back over that list and tell me...

Are they?