An ode to girls.
To the screaming fangirls, the shy journal writers, the loud gigglers, the soft speakers, the friendship bracelet makers, the collage queens, the selfie pros, the bloggers, the zinesters, the crystal coveters, the sticker collectors, the glitter enthusiasts, the unicorns, the covens, the girls who write neatly folded letters to
each other in class.
The girls who do things they are told are only for boys, the girls who do things “like a girl” without thinking it’s an insult. The girly girls, the boyish girls, the girls who look like girls and those who don’t. The girls who call themselves girls, or grrrls or gurls, the girls who hate the word girl, the girls who aren’t sure what to call themselves, the girls who prefer not to choose.
The she’s, the he’s, the they’s and all those in between. The girls who are told they aren’t girls, the girls who are told they’re too girly. The girls who are called annoying, frivolous and silly, the girls who stay silent because of it, the girls who are louder because of it. The fancy girls, the messy girls, the girls with shiny hair, dirty hair, coloured hair, a whole lot of body hair or no hair at all.
The little girls, the big girls, the tall, the small, the girls who flaunt their shapes and those who don’t. The girls in pieces, the girls in pain, the girls whose bodies don’t do all of the things we are told girl’s bodies should do. The girls from here, the girls from there, the girls who look like the girls on tv and those who don’t. The pale girls, the tan girls, the girls of colour, the girls who are full of light, and those who feel happier alone at night.
The sweet girls, the salty girls, the angry girls, the sad girls, the giddy girls, the hyper girls, the girls who feel everything all the time.
To all the girls
the world loves to hate,
celebrate each other,
take care of each other,