We Should Not Have to Defend Ourselves as Valuable
I write books that empower girls to embrace their unique traits, to cultivate their talents and to become comfortable and secure in their bodies. Anna, my sixteen-year-old protagonist in my debut young adult novel, Little Red Wraith, struggles with not having the same abilities as those around her. She lives in a world of shapeshifters but is unable to transform. She says, “I tell myself that it’s okay that I’m amorphous, unable to change. It’s bad enough when I compare myself to the other girls in the village in my human form—I don’t need another skin to have to defend as valuable.” Throughout her journey, she gradually comes to understand and learn about the abilities she does have. She learns that her inability to change doesn’t mean she isn’t able to contribute to the world around her.
The idea of a girl who can’t change is likely deeply rooted in my experiences and trials as a kid and a teen. I say “likely” because I can’t pinpoint a single moment or episode that I based this on, but I know that the intent was to show girls that regardless of what they look like or if they don’t have a talent someone else does that it doesn’t mean they aren’t capable, valuable, and powerful.
I’ve told the story about how my debut novel, AnnaGrey and the Constellation, first came about, so bear with my while I summarize. My now 15-year-old daughter came home from kindergarten in tears because a boy had called her weird, so I wanted to write a story that would show how you can embrace the traits that make you different—or “weird”—are what make you valuable and special and able to leave indelible marks on the world. Because I, too, have been called strange and weird (and let’s face it—all great artists have been called that at one time or another so I’m in great company), I knew the direction I needed to take in order to help her deal with that comment.
But there are also the stings I wasn’t prepared to answer. A few days ago, my youngest daughter, who is ten, asked me if I thought she was fat. This is happening at age ten?! Honestly, it probably happens to girls at a younger age, too. She said that a boy told her she had a “puffy belly.” All I could do in that moment was assure her that that her body is strong, capable, and beautiful, and that she did not have a puffy belly.
My oldest daughter took a different route in helping her little sister navigate this hurtful comment. She pulled out all the Taylor Swift lyrics and quotes that talk about body image positivity. Taylor’s words got to my daughter in a way I couldn’t because I am just Mom, trying to defend and protect my baby. Taylor—a major force in the world, and that’s obviously an understatement—is my girls’ hero. Her lyrics move them, her performances inspire them, and she’s an incredible role model as an artist, businessperson, and woman. She is proof that girls really can do anything.
The quotes my daughter pointed out for my baby weren’t vapid assurances of “everyone is beautiful in their own way.” I’m not discounting that comment, but it’s one that I think is said so often that it’s no longer being heard or making an impact as much as it should.
My oldest also pointed out that Taylor gained thirty pounds for the Eras Tour. Why? Because she needed to be strong and fit so she could sing, dance, and walk all over the stage, night after night, for three and a half hours for each performance. She gained weight—muscle and fat—to have stamina. She’s choosing what she wants her body to look like and working for it. And what she’s choosing is to be healthy so that she can continue entertaining and inspiring her fans. Taylor’s been thinner, which made have suited her purposes at the time, but now, she’s thirty pounds heavier so that’s she’s more powerful.
Body shape and size does not, nor should it ever, define what a person is. And here’s the truth: I have also struggled with body image issues my whole life. When I was super thin, I didn’t have the right hair color or complexion according to some—but I shouldn’t have let those “some” bother me. I know that now, but back then, it stung. After I had kids, I weighed more than I ever had. When I lost weight to become healthy, I became obsessed with how much I could control my weight. I knew there was a problem when I would tell myself, “It doesn’t matter if you’re hungry. Hungry means skinny.” I eventually got so thin that my nurse practitioner told me it was time to start gaining some weight.
Giving up control of my calorie intake proved to be as hard as controlling how much I ate before I lost the weight.
A vicious, vicious cycle.
It’s been a daily struggle to regain the power of my eating and exercising habits and not to let society dictate it. I gained thirty of the forty pounds I lost. I then lost ten. Then, I gained five.
Today, my goal is to just be healthy so I can raise these wonderful daughters I’ve been granted and blessed with.
My powerful ten-year-old is a dancer and gymnast and just achieved a milestone: she got her back handspring that she’s been working on for over a year. She had to build the muscle in her arms, back, legs, and yes, her stomach, to be able to do that. She has more power in her gut than anyone could ever imagine—and she’s going use it to soar.
The idea of a girl who can’t change is likely deeply rooted in my experiences and trials as a kid and a teen. I say “likely” because I can’t pinpoint a single moment or episode that I based this on, but I know that the intent was to show girls that regardless of what they look like or if they don’t have a talent someone else does that it doesn’t mean they aren’t capable, valuable, and powerful.
I’ve told the story about how my debut novel, AnnaGrey and the Constellation, first came about, so bear with my while I summarize. My now 15-year-old daughter came home from kindergarten in tears because a boy had called her weird, so I wanted to write a story that would show how you can embrace the traits that make you different—or “weird”—are what make you valuable and special and able to leave indelible marks on the world. Because I, too, have been called strange and weird (and let’s face it—all great artists have been called that at one time or another so I’m in great company), I knew the direction I needed to take in order to help her deal with that comment.
But there are also the stings I wasn’t prepared to answer. A few days ago, my youngest daughter, who is ten, asked me if I thought she was fat. This is happening at age ten?! Honestly, it probably happens to girls at a younger age, too. She said that a boy told her she had a “puffy belly.” All I could do in that moment was assure her that that her body is strong, capable, and beautiful, and that she did not have a puffy belly.
My oldest daughter took a different route in helping her little sister navigate this hurtful comment. She pulled out all the Taylor Swift lyrics and quotes that talk about body image positivity. Taylor’s words got to my daughter in a way I couldn’t because I am just Mom, trying to defend and protect my baby. Taylor—a major force in the world, and that’s obviously an understatement—is my girls’ hero. Her lyrics move them, her performances inspire them, and she’s an incredible role model as an artist, businessperson, and woman. She is proof that girls really can do anything.
The quotes my daughter pointed out for my baby weren’t vapid assurances of “everyone is beautiful in their own way.” I’m not discounting that comment, but it’s one that I think is said so often that it’s no longer being heard or making an impact as much as it should.
My oldest also pointed out that Taylor gained thirty pounds for the Eras Tour. Why? Because she needed to be strong and fit so she could sing, dance, and walk all over the stage, night after night, for three and a half hours for each performance. She gained weight—muscle and fat—to have stamina. She’s choosing what she wants her body to look like and working for it. And what she’s choosing is to be healthy so that she can continue entertaining and inspiring her fans. Taylor’s been thinner, which made have suited her purposes at the time, but now, she’s thirty pounds heavier so that’s she’s more powerful.
Body shape and size does not, nor should it ever, define what a person is. And here’s the truth: I have also struggled with body image issues my whole life. When I was super thin, I didn’t have the right hair color or complexion according to some—but I shouldn’t have let those “some” bother me. I know that now, but back then, it stung. After I had kids, I weighed more than I ever had. When I lost weight to become healthy, I became obsessed with how much I could control my weight. I knew there was a problem when I would tell myself, “It doesn’t matter if you’re hungry. Hungry means skinny.” I eventually got so thin that my nurse practitioner told me it was time to start gaining some weight.
Giving up control of my calorie intake proved to be as hard as controlling how much I ate before I lost the weight.
A vicious, vicious cycle.
It’s been a daily struggle to regain the power of my eating and exercising habits and not to let society dictate it. I gained thirty of the forty pounds I lost. I then lost ten. Then, I gained five.
Today, my goal is to just be healthy so I can raise these wonderful daughters I’ve been granted and blessed with.
My powerful ten-year-old is a dancer and gymnast and just achieved a milestone: she got her back handspring that she’s been working on for over a year. She had to build the muscle in her arms, back, legs, and yes, her stomach, to be able to do that. She has more power in her gut than anyone could ever imagine—and she’s going use it to soar.
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