Girlfriends

I’ve never been a feminist. You’ll often hear me defending myself rather indignantly – “Nope, I’m not one of those girl-power girls.” Perhaps it’s one of those deep-seated grudges that have followed me from old classroom games – yesteryears of long drawn-out popularity contests and frankly, just an overload of oestrogen within one complex. Laugh at the ridiculous caricatures they created in ‘Mean Girls’, but the truth really is that when you water them down, you’ll find a pack of them in every high school.

Of course I never fit.

There was always a hint of competition in the air, in assorted shapes or forms – whether it be an outright cat-fight over a position on the committee or just an implicit clamour for attention. And so I pulled myself out of ‘girl-power’, believing in the old-fashioned way of doing things. I gladly abide by the unwritten rules that are the undercurrent of one patriarchal society running to the next. Stop trying to be men, girls. Banding together is rubbish. It will all fall apart once the next hot thing struts through the door anyway.

On hindsight, perhaps it was a defense mechanism. You see, I never did learn how to trust. I knew I couldn’t play at their level and win. And so, perhaps I should save myself disappointment by not even trying. But recently, I’m becoming a convert.

J is teaching me more than I thought I would learn. She is everything that I’m not. Admittedly, I’ve had my prejudices. They are often unconsciously stirred when I come into contact with girls like these. The kind that is the life of the party, spontaneously combusting into fun and giggles everywhere they go. Miss Congeniality. It makes me feel uncomfortable when someone seems to love everybody, and vice versa. No one is that magnanimous. There’s got to be a catch somewhere. But this week, I have drawn strength I never dreamed I would find from her presence, extracted pearls of wisdom from her words that empower and encourage. She has taught me stuff of character and spunk; reminded me again of originality and creativity.

N can be described none other than a gentle spirit. Soft, feminine, sweet all rolled into one slender package, girlish ponytail bobbing in her wake. I find myself astounded by her readiness to put others before herself, her willingness to stand in the shadow of another, only for the sake of propelling someone else, to be that launching pad from which people can kick off and soar – And that, to me takes profound humility. And I find myself looking into the mirror a lot of the time. Perhaps that’s why we slip ever so easily into conversation, which seems to take a life of its own, rolling effortlessly off our tongues.

Seemingly two opposite ends of the spectrum and yet, sharing a vital common strand. These girls won’t take things lying down. These girls won’t settle for second-rate. These girls can recognise when to say ‘no’, and actually have the (er-hem!) balls to utter the hardest two letter word. These girls would never compromise the substance of character for someone else.

Self-respect. Independence. Confidence. Esteem.

It is a strength that has passed me by for well, most of my life. All those stifling afternoons, baking in a stuffy container, I would be glowering from my corner surveying my kind – the way her hair always fell ever so perfectly, the way she could command the attention of the whole table when she spoke, the way she smiled every so sweetly that I could almost feel everyone melt a little inside. And I spent all my time, chasing stereotypes instead of summoning things from within – virtue, belief, conviction, faith, hope, love – things that would make me, me.

Strong, bold, beautiful, unyielding.

So many years later (and hopefully much wiser), I think I’m starting to recognise the irresistible pull of these invisible entities. The world may be governed by superficialism (and that will probably never change) but for that extra flavour, for that extra pizazz, throw in a bit of character.

For too long have I let this flood of thick, molten envy, cake into hardened layers of obstinacy. Resistance for the sake of resistance. And for what? To prove a point? I think I’ve finally realised that there is something I can learn here.

I’d like to maintain that I’m still not a girl-power girl. I don’t believe in fruitless gossip-mongering sessions (true, they may be fun) or bandying together in the name of making a lot of noise to feel a sense of faux empowerment – like air-headed cheerleaders in a high school locker room, basking in the glory of fleeting beauty and empty status. I am not naive enough to hold onto ideals of ‘friends 4eva’ or the codes of sorority sisterhoods.

Let’s just say I’m not going to be raising a ‘hoes over bros’ banner over my door just yet.

But what I do believe in, is authentic bonds of friendship. The kind where you build each other up with a wholeness of heart, independent of selfish agendas and vested interests; harnessing assurance from the implicit knowledge that there is someone in your address book that you can call upon in the wee hours of the morning with any crisis;

that there will be someone to catch you when you fall.

Thank you, both of you, you know who you are.