Quinn Hanschen

My body is not a cage.
My body is my temple and mine alone
Refurbish the interior
or reconstruct the whole,
as long as it’s still mine
my home,
my own.

Poetry

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Quinn demonstrates the sacred autonomy we have over our own bodies.

My Body Is Not a Cage

Dr. Elizabeth Debold

I want you to use your imagination for a minute.

Think about the perfect teen girl. Now, of course, no one is perfect. But just hang in there with me — what image or ideal comes to your mind? A photo from a magazine? A celebrity? Someone you know from school? A friend? Or just a general sense of somebody with a certain kind of face, hair, and body? Now, think about the ideal teen boy — the perfect guy. What does he look like? Is he someone you know or more like a picture you’ve seen?

The reason I am asking is that the ability to think about an ideal, like the perfect boy or girl, is very important to the adult women and men that we become. These ideals — our deepest and often unconscious sense of who we are and should be — are basic to our identity. They tell us who we are. These ideals aren’t something that we usually think about, but we often bump up against them when we try to do things that are new or go against the usual expectations for girls and boys or men and women. In powerful ways, these unconscious ideals shape our choices.

And these ideals, because they are so much a part of our identity, also block us from realizing Spirit. I don’t mean “spirit” in the sense of being a lively and warm person. I’m referring to the deepest level of existence, the invisible, all encompassing dimension of reality that just IS. If you think about the words on this page, notice that we tend to focus on them as what is important in front of our noses. But we don’t usually pay attention to the screen or page in the background. The page or screen is like the ground of existence or Spirit. Each of us, and all the things around us, are like the words on the page. When we open up our awareness and pay attention to the background of everything, we can awaken to this spiritual dimension.

Spirit itself is neither male nor female, masculine nor feminine. It just IS.

I think it’s really interesting that both the capacity to create ideals in your mind and to have breakthrough spiritual experiences develop during the teen years. Most of us think about adolescence as the time when our body changes so that we can take part in reproduction, having kids. These important teen years are the time when we go through the most rapid growth in our lives after infancy. We all know how fast babies change and develop, and teens develop almost as fast. The teen years not only involve big physical changes, but also really important changes in our minds and inner worlds. Between the ages of 11 and 16 or so, your mind begins to form ideals. Before that, questions like “What is the perfect girl?” don’t make sense. When you are young, you can only think about people you know and really like. Being able to imagine an ideal is a complex thinking task. Your mind sifts through all of your experience, all of the movies and TV shows you’ve seen, all of the pictures you’ve looked at in magazines, and then figures out what is most valued and rewarded with love, money, and fame or recognition. This becomes your sense of an ideal or “perfect” girl or boy. It is a standard that you hold inside yourself, often without knowing it, and that you measure yourself against. Or it becomes something to react against.

These ideals are a big part of our gender identity. What is gender identity? Most of us are one of two biological sexes: male or female. (A small percentage of us are somehow a mix of the two.) There are two parts to the process of sexual reproduction and those are the basis of sex difference: males inseminate; women bear and give birth to offspring. Sex and gender are related to each other but are different. Gender, generally, refers to the ideals and expectations for how males and females behave in your society or culture. So, for example, in many societies, girls are expected to be less physically aggressive than boys and not like team sports. In some cultures, boys are expected not to like reading and books, and it’s thought to be “manly” to drop out of school to get a job very young. Ideas about gender, about how we are supposed to be male and female, are communicated through media, parents, teachers, and school, as well as from other kids. Most of us have seen what happens when a boy or girl does something that is “taboo” or goes against his or her gender — like a boy wearing lipstick or a girl who doesn’t shave her legs. They are usually laughed at or shunned because they are seen as not normal. They can find themselves with no friends. While these cultural norms have nothing really to do with sexual reproduction, they have a big impact on how attractive we are to others in our culture. Figuring out the ideal of “normal” is a big part of what our minds begin to do during the teen years. Once this falls into place in our minds, this ideal becomes an inner guide for what we do. We may try to become that ideal, reject it, or try to adapt it, but in one way or another, it forms a part of our self that unconsciously affects our choices. When we align with this ideal, it gives us a deep sense of identity—yes, I am really a man now! This is our gender identity and it is a very basic part of our self.

Our gender identity affects the women and men that we become.

Not living up to our inner ideals for our gender can make us feel really bad or wrong. In fact, some men who have lost their jobs in traditionally male occupations, like steel working or auto mechanics, have actually committed suicide rather than getting available jobs in more traditionally female areas like education or health care. Their internalized, inner ideal of what a man is supposed to do was so strong that when they couldn’t do that kind of work any more, they no longer wanted to live. A less dramatic example involves the many girls who do great in math and science in primary school but “dumb down” when they hit the teen years because they realize that STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) professions are mostly held by men. These girls probably have a very strong inner ideal of a woman that doesn’t do things reserved for men. They want to be attractive to men, not compete with them.

Gender identity is not something that we usually spend time thinking about, but we often become so preoccupied with trying to live up to or against our inner ideals that we miss the deeper part of our self that is Spirit. We think that being a girl or boy, man or woman is who we are most fundamentally. But it’s not. The deepest part of our self has no gender. Spirit, the ground of all that exists, cannot be male or female. It’s more fundamental than that. Think about it: can aliveness belong more to women or to men? No. Existence — life — belongs to no one and to everyone. Understanding that there is a part of our self that is before and beyond the struggle to figure out how to be a boy/man or girl/woman is very liberating. Realizing this makes it possible for us to live with greater freedom, no longer so trapped by trying to live up to our inner gender ideals. It changes our answer to the basic question: Who am I? Yes, we are male or female, but we are bigger than that — we are Spirit.

To find out who you really are, I’d like you to try something. Sit up straight and close your eyes. Open up your attention and awareness, wide, wide, wide. Does it have any end? Inside, behind your closed eyes, is there any limit or boundary to your awareness? Can you sense the infinite — a ground of awareness that goes beyond your body, beyond the room, and out beyond the furthest reaches of the cosmos? This is Spirit. It is who you really are.

In a KidSpirit PerSpectives article, Dr. Elizabeth Debold invites us to look beyond social norms of gender to discover the spirit, neither male nor female, that underpins all of us.

Who Are You Really? Boy or Girl or... Spirit?

Kacey Sorenson

I am a Mormon female. My dad was my local church’s Bishop for five years. As a result, I was the “Bishop’s daughter” — categorized and occasionally referred to as such — for six years.

It bothered me sometimes because I knew I was more than just my father’s daughter, but still I was proud of his leadership position and my family’s position in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

My mom raised me to love being a girl in the twenty-first century, and I am proud to have had the same opportunities as boys my own age in sports, music, and extracurricular activities. My mother is a little bit of a feminist, priding herself in her independence and education, having graduated from a respected four-year university. While she agrees with me that being a parent is the most important role one can play, she still reminisces: “I was seven when Title IX was passed. I played on an all-boys soccer team at school and was the only girl at the local sports camp that year.” Title IX was passed in 1972, and is the federal law prohibiting sex discrimination in educational institutions. While I am sometimes irritated at her pride, I also absorbed her love of and confidence in being a young woman. Once, curious to learn more about what she always mentioned, I researched Title IX, gave a six-page report, conducted a one-hour interview with Stanford women’s basketball coach Tara VanDerveer, and compiled a Powerpoint presentation discussing the impact such a movement had on the modern woman. In other words, my mother’s modern views on women have impacted many of mine.

In the Mormon religion, men are placed in roles that receive greater attention than the roles of women. Women are taught their highest calling in life is to raise a family in God’s church with morals and principles worthy of God’s children. Young men are strongly encouraged to embark on a mission, a two-year venture where they are called to teach God’s word. Young women are also given the opportunity to serve full-time missions, but the expectation to serve is not as intense.

Traditionally, young men could embark on a mission at 19, while women were not allowed to leave until they were 21. There were different (and somewhat archaic) reasons for such age restrictions: young men needed to grow up on the mission, young women needed to grow up before. Honestly, I never really understood the difference in age limitations. In October of last year, Thomas S. Monson, the president of the Mormon church, announced a decision to lower the age of male missionaries from 19 to 18 years old. In the same speech, Monson revealed the young women’s age to serve a mission had also been lowered from 21 to 19. In a press conference two weeks later, church spokesman Michael Purdy said that within the first two weeks of Monson’s unexpected declaration, the church began receiving nearly five times as many applications from youth to serve as missionaries for the church — from 700 applications a week to over 4,000 — noting that “slightly more than half of the applicants are women.” Although there is still a year’s gap between the ages of our missionaries, it is clear women are experiencing a more equal opportunity to proselytize for the church at a younger age.

From the time we can first sing, Mormon kids are taught the Articles of Faith by rote. These articles are 13 statements similar to the Ten Commandments, and are basic teachings and ordinances of the Mormon faith. While often repeated mindlessly, the words of the last Article remind me of who I am: “We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men… If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report, we seek after these things.” These principles are taught in the church universally. They encourage trust and equality between God’s children, and show what is important to the church. I have been taught to love myself and to love others. I have learned to be an example to those who surround me, including, and especially, young men my age. As most teenagers do, guys my age observe the behaviors of their friends and peers, and want to fit in. They find strength in numbers, and by being an example, we can be strong together.

Now, there are always arguments about religion, and they can sometimes be very heated. I thought my mom, being intelligent, confident, stubborn, and a feminist, might have some opposition to a woman’s role in the Mormon church. I approached cautiously and a little nervously, but I was surprised to hear her answer to my question: “I’ve never had a problem with my role as a Mormon female. I’m a mom, and that is the most critical job on earth. Mormon men may administer the church, but women have the bigger and better job.” After she spoke, I realized I agree. My view may differ slightly from some of my unreligious peers, but I know my role as an eventual wife and mother will be fulfilling. I still strive for achievement through higher education, but I also feel the most valuable thing I can do is to be a mother. Of course not all women can have or want children: my aunt never married (and therefore never had children), and one of the women I admire the most recently found out she can’t have children. These women receive the same support and love from the church as those with children.

Gordon B. Hinckley, the president of the church until his death in 2008, summarized this view when he said: “The men hold the priesthood, yes. But my wife is my companion. In this church the man neither walks ahead of his wife nor behind his wife but at her side. They are co-equals in this life in a great enterprise.” Although the men and the women are treated differently within the church, they are still viewed as equal — to others and to each other. That feminist blood my mother and I are so proud of remains an integral part of who we are, but the strength of the woman is only magnified by the strength of the mother, a role I hope to take on when I am older.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Kacey describes how women have achieved a sense of parity and belonging in the Mormon church

Growing Up Mormon and Feminist

Ariana Resauladin

I’m a 12-year-old girl who has grown up in a community of Bahá’ís.

It is really astonishing to be a part of a religion that is not common around New York, or any place, actually. There are only about five million people that are documented Bahá’ís. Bahá’ís believes that God is one, man is one, and all religions are one.

The Bahá’í faith was established in Tehran, Iran, in 1844. It was founded by Bahá’u’lláh, whose name translates to the “Glory of God.” As a girl growing up in a Bahá’í community, I’ve always had the feeling that the Bahá’í Faith is one of the few religions in which women, girls, and all children can share their opinion and be respected. Many women around the world don’t have the option to speak, they have to stay quiet and let men speak their minds. Women and young ladies have been abused because they tried to speak for themselves. In the Bahá’í faith, we can speak for ourselves because we have a central teaching about equality.

The Bahá’í faith’s basic principle of the equality of men and women makes it unique. Unlike some other world faiths, Bahá’í writings explicitly say that women are equal to men. So what makes the religion so important to women and girls? In the Bahá’í teachings, women are equal to men both mentally and spiritually. Equality starts at the level of consultation, which is based on reciprocal listening: you have to listen to what others have to say, so that your opinions will be heard. Consultation is important to Bahá’ís because it is the key to resolving debates and issues.

“Among the miracles which distinguish this sacred dispensation is this, that women have evinced a greater boldness than men when enlisted in the ranks of the Faith.”

That’s because Bahá’í women feel their community is listening to them and giving them equal opportunities. As a result they are very engaged in the faith. One role of women in the faith is to spread excitement about equality in their religion — and their first-hand experiences with it — to all of their female friends and acquaintances.

Most Bahá’í writings say that if you have a boy and a girl, and not enough money to send both to school, the girl should be educated first, because the “woman is the primary educator of the children.” The educated woman teaches and trains the children, and the children grow and develop through the woman’s wisdom. A woman named Ahirah is one of my grandmother’s friends and she shared her way of looking at that principle. She said that an educated woman will make better choices about her life and family, about whether she wants a professional career and at the same time wants children, and is more likely to feel fulfilled in her role as a mother, which leads to happier, more loved children. It is very common for Bahá’í women to work, but work isn’t mandatory.

According to Bahá’í teaching, women will also play one of the greatest roles in the establishment of universal peace. Mothers go through a lot of pain during childbirth, and then shower their children with love. They make sure they have everything they need, they constantly worry about their children’s safety, and they educate them until they have reached maturity. The role of women is so strong, it has the power to stop war, since mothers love their children and would never let violence be their ruler. If mothers were given a choice, would they send their children onto the battlefield? I don’t think so. Once a woman has formed a strong bond with her child, she will never want to let him or her be harmed or get killed in a war.

In regards to this, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá said:

“Therefore, the mothers will not sanction war nor be satisfied with it. So it will come to pass that when women participate fully and equally in the affairs of the world, when they enter confidently and capably the great arena of laws and politics, war will cease; for woman will be the obstacle and hindrance to it. This is true and without doubt.”

All this makes me feel very lucky to be a girl, and to become a woman in the Bahá’í faith. Of course, while the roles of men and women are alike in the Baha’i faith, they have differences too. However, men and women are equal — everyone receives the same respect.

This inspires me to make sure I do well in school, so that I can be well educated and have a career, so that I can help support my family, make sure my children receive all the education they need, and have some money left over to give to the Bahá’í Fund. I think many things are going to change for women; it would be amazing for one of those changes to become a chain reaction around the whole world. Those women and girls in other parts of the world who can’t stand up and say ‘no’ are nevertheless extremely strong; they have the power to change the world. I hope I’ll be able to do my part.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, twelve year-old writer Ariana explores the prominent role women play in the Baha'i faith.

The Role of Women in the Bahá’í Faith

Nimai Agarwal

For those who don’t know, the Vedas are ancient Hindu scriptures, a vast collection of knowledge that stretches over many subjects, compiled in Sanskrit, one of the oldest languages known to humans.

From art, music, archery, martial arts, politics, religion – the Vedas have it all. They’re described as being a guide to the world.

I grew up in the Hindu tradition, and as I explored one of the most notable of Vedic literatures, the Bhagavatam, I saw a trend. Women lived in the shadow of men. They were chaste, faithful to their husbands, and docile. I would read about revered sages who instructed kings and could create palaces out of thin air. Their wives were usually just housekeepers who helped their husbands live comfortably. One can argue that their greatness came from their humility and chastity, but how come the men didn’t have to act similarly? It all seemed rather tilted in favor of men.

As a loyal egalitarian, Vedic ideas of gender roles shake my faith quite a bit. I’ve wondered, would I want to live in an ideal Vedic society if I were a woman? At first, I let these questions broil in the darkness. They were always there, but I ignored them, content in my state of spiritual stagnation. As I address these fears, however, I’ve started to understand my religion’s stance on gender roles better, and from that I’ve begun to accept the Vedic system for what it is.

Vedic society was complementarian, meaning the goal for different classes in society was to complement each other for a common good. People were divided into different roles, who were meant to work together and create harmony. The roles of men and women were also defined. Women were said by the Vedas to be mothers, and naturally caring; therefore they were expected to house-keep and raise their children, or generally assist their husbands in their endeavors. Men were supposed to support the family, and carry out their duty, based on their class. They were seen as naturally being protectors of society. The two were meant to work together, to achieve a perfect household which promoted spirituality.

The Vedic texts are full of references to gender. In several instances, women are described as being less intelligent, and grouped with lower castes. On the other hand, the scriptures describe all living beings as being intrinsically equal. I tried to iron out these apparent contradictions, but I couldn’t make sense of them. I would see gender roles presented in subtle ways. Women were shy, obedient to their husbands, and faithful, while men were individuals who could be scholars, cunning businessmen, or even rulers and warriors. Whenever I read about the Brahmanas (the teachers and priests), I always encountered men. The female Brahmanas would simply house-keep for their scholarly husband.

At the heart of the scriptures, however, all living creatures are spiritually equal. The Vedas say that material distinctions are superficial and that we are essentially not our body, but an infinitesimal eternal spark — the soul. The Vedas compare the body to an outward dress, and the wearer of the dress as the soul. On the spiritual level, therefore, distinctions between men and women are irrelevant. So, how could a philosophy which promoted equality stand by this dividing social system?

To understand Vedic societal divisions, one must understand the goal of society. The goal of society was undeviated focus on God. The purpose behind all the divisions, the rules and the regulations, was so people could live free from distractions. The Vedas encouraged men to address every woman as “Mother.” The Spiritual Teachers were the highest rung in society, even above the kings. The common thread is an undeviated focus on religion.

In addition, Vedic knowledge was meant to be passed from teacher to disciple, in a disciplic chain. Today, such rigid rules would be uncomfortable and oppressive for many. The whole point of the system, however, was to keep the knowledge alive, in a relevant manner. The spiritual teachers in the chain have the power to adjust the specifics according to time, place, and circumstance.

I’ve been raised seeing a community where gender roles are not important in spiritual pursuit and everyone has an equal opportunity to express their love for God. In my temple, women are given all the same rights as men, in fact, our temple community president is a woman, something which might still be considered radical for some traditionalists. My parents have always been on equal footing. I’ve seen them teach together, take leadership roles together. I’ve been raised seeing the importance of gender equality. Traditionally women were not allowed to worship on the altar. Today, both men and women are allowed to worship as they wish. These days women can have major leadership positions, just like men, or they can choose to serve at the grassroots level. Nothing is discouraged.

Vedic gender roles were a source of great discomfort, but as I learned more, I began to accept it for what it was. It worked for a different people, separated from us by thousands of years. Today, the same philosophy from the same scriptures is followed in a different way. My spiritual community is liberal, and yet the essence of the Vedas is preserved: love for God and all other living entities.

In a KidSpirit Interfaith Connections article, teen writer Nimai comes to terms with some of the outdated gender norms present in the Vedas, a holy text.

Evolving Gender Roles in the Vedas

Alice Simmons

He always reminded her of a horse,
a young horse,
knees still knobbly,
hiding his eyes behind a flop of mane.
She thought he hid his eyes because
they gave away too much.
She could see the hope and hurt
in them when he turned to her
So uncertain, he wanted to follow someone
and it couldn’t be his mother
who he’d mimicked for so long,
it couldn’t be his father
distant, too busy with his work
he trailed behind the bigger boys,
but they only laughed.
And even she kicked him away,
like an angry boss mare
left him to wander the fringe
looking for a way in.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Alice describes an uncertain, unsteady boy who has nobody to follow or learn from.

Outsider

Caroline Colwell

Greet each day like
An untraveled road
Great surprises
Are bound to unload

Don’t be shy
In what you explore
Don’t be afraid
To open each door

You may meet trouble
Life may not go well
You may see great things:
Think of the stories you’ll tell!

The days we are given
Are gifts received
Full of hope
And the promises that everyone needs.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Caroline solicits us to treat each day as an untraveled road — a source of hope and adventure.

Each Day

Ashley Liu

I
Jump off of the train
Catch the unfamiliar sounds
Of a new city
Smoky air packed with indistinct noises
Uncertainty mixed with excitement
Free yourself

II
Swim fiercely
Gasping for breath
Muscles flexing, stretching
Water splatters across your blurred vision
Determined to reach the shore
Free yourself

III
Party along the crowd
Empty coke bottles under the flashing lights
Hysterical shouts break out
Chemicals and adrenaline racing through your veins
Consciousness gradually fades
Free yourself

IV
Tears emerge
Leaving crystal tracks on your cheeks
Suddenly uncontrollable
Alone in the suffocating darkness
Free yourself

V
Fingers glide across
The black-and-white keyboard
Ever so gracefully
Only the beauty of melody
Swarms between the passionate songs
Free yourself

VI
Lie upon the dusty roof
Stare at the twinkling stars
A chilly breeze drives by
Remembering in the night
Free yourself

VII
Trudge among the ancient trees
As the glowering sun vanishes beyond the flaming horizon
Autumn leaves
Fallen and dead
Awaiting another start
Free yourself

VIII
Intense anger explodes
As the front door slammed shut with a bang
Sick of all their ridiculous rules
No longer chained
Furious face dimly lit by the abandoned streetlamp
Free yourself

IX
Giggles spilled out
Onto the laughter-stained maroon couch
Trembling with youthful happiness
Forgetting secrets and betrayal
Free yourself

X
Silence followed by your name
Cheers burst out
Brain lethargically registering the delightful truth
Then fist pumping into the air with triumph
Screaming as the shiny trophy found its owner
Free yourself

XI
Hold his hand
Gaze into those gorgeous eyes
Unaware of the trickling raindrops splashed onto the sidewalk
Fearlessly dancing
Free yourself

XII
Watch the kite
Soaring above the innocent clear sky
Chasing the swaying fragile strings
Carefree as a dove
Flying in the harmony of clouds
Free yourself

XIII
Climb onto the soft sheets
The faint smell of clean cotton merged gently with lavender
Exhaustion engulfed every nerve
Eyelids already closed
Free at last

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Ashley cycles through thirteen moments of total freedom — where soaring emotions tear down the limitations of our identities and societies.

13 Ways to Free Yourself

Niti Majethia

Girls are the nets weaved in the forests
the saudade of the trees touching
and twisting in glistening light
that is emanating from the gaps between the trees.
And boys are that gap, a creamy drizzle of star shine
dwelling under a universe light.
The women are the lavender dust from flowers pressed in books
and men are the books, pressing the flowers
entwined in the hair of the women
scrutinizing their beauty.

Gender is just a word,
when all the feathers connect to a wing.
and the wing flies,
gender is just a word
while the heart aches and the fire dies,
for we are all stars waiting to be connected,
a man to a woman, a woman to a man,
to breathe the forelsket
to feast on the forelsket.
We are all composed of water.
And long to flow across the shadows of an eclipsed God.
To breathe forelsket,
to seize forelsket.
Men are the mountains
and women are the mists.
We are all the peaks that can never truly be climbed
and we are equally tall,
we are equally tall.

We are forgotten stories,
swimming through the forelsket.
We are just men and women waiting to be loved.
We are like petals in spring
blooming in forelsket,
falling in love with the little things in life.
Gender is just a word,
we all trap butterflies underneath our soul’s breath.
We are all in love with the world
and each other
even the unloved,
we are all under forelsket.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Niti links men and women with harmonious — and, in the end, indistinguishable — elements of the natural world.

Forelsket

Zoe Buki

From Nerf guns and Warrior lacrosse sticks.

I am from making dangly, beaded earrings,

From dried cleat dirt and throwing balls against the bounce back.

I am from crafting handmade accordion scrap books,

From swimming freestyle and chlorine mixed with sweat.

I am from “Take the dog on a forty minute run,”

From “Come in from the cold for some hot cocoa.”

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Zoe draws inspiration from George Ella Lyon's poem "Where I'm From" to explore her relationship to stereotypically "girly" or "boyish" activities.

I Am

Patricia Luk

“It’s a great day,” the Sun could tell me.
Just see the breeze waving at me.
Look at the baby blue sky, and
the clouds, grinning like some idiots.
Well, I didn’t have anything to smile at.
Nothing—nada—emptiness—void.

Forget about it, Quintus Horatius Flaccus.
The fruit’s not ripe. It’s sour. Bitter.

Seems like I’m giving away free sighs again.
Sorry, hugs are a dollar each.
Actually, make it five. I’m grumpy—sour—bitter.

I give my teeth a good scrub down.
My hair gets a hasty makeover
from bombed to adequate. Barely.
Distrait, I dismiss the vexing “haste makes waste!”
Sorry, not today.

Staring myself down in the mirror,
I see only a fractured doppelganger.
It’s me.
Only me.

It used to be new — shiny — beautiful.
Now it’s a mess.
Whatever happened to it?
My reflection’s scarred and marred.
The warm brown eyes — they’re lifeless.
So bereft of joy. Dispossessed.
My skin’s so pale, it’s sickly gray.
Cracked — scratched — broken.
Whatever happened to it?
Now it’s a mess.

I touch my face tentatively,
wondering if I really was a human —
if I had a corporeal body.
My flesh’s gelid, like ice. Then I realize
my hand’s resting on the neglected mirror.

I really can’t understand why people think up
stereotypes for guys and
expect girls to act a certain way.
We’re not robots, you know?
“Oh, males should be athletic —
they have to dominate.
And the girls?
Sorry to break it to you,
you have to be all pink and flowery,
feminine and cute.
That’s how the world likes it.
Be a girl.”

Yeah, right. Think about that.
Did you ever wonder why those famous women
never were “proper”?
Renowned individuals never “normal”?
What is normal, anyway? Define it for me.
Was there ever a “normal” crowd?

They thought I was abnormal.
It’s unlike not normal.
They hurled me sticks and stones.

Just look at me now,
looking in a pathetic mirror.
Scarred.
Why couldn’t they understand me?

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Patricia rails against the standards of normalcy and conformity that are attached to gender.

Scars

Tanmaya Murthy

Pessimism lays its icy hands upon me,
But I can resist the intense chill.
Caged like a bird, craving to be set free,
There is an iridescent ray of hope still.

Thorns of fear prick my soul to the core,
But I am determined to surpass the obstacle.
Defeats lessen my faith all the more,
But I’ll emerge victorious and reach the pinnacle.

Why is the world evil to me? I wonder
Are ‘his’ deeds so profound? A hollow statement
What have I done? I fail to recognize my blunder.
The discrimination remains, there is no amendment

My beauty is compared with blooming flowers,
Then why do they pluck those blossoms heartlessly?
And render meaningless the divine merciful showers
And call the world a paradise fallaciously!

Nevertheless, hurdles await my benign presence
To be transformed into stepping stones in every respect
These silvery tears don’t convey my distress
Rather a humble message to the biased, to introspect.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Tanmaya is determined to turn the discrimination wielded against her and other women and girls into a stepping stone to a better future.

Cry of a Girl Child

Christina Wang

Torn;
Pieces of her heart scattered by the gnawing teeth of death.
Dreamless;
Emptiness clawing at her soul, clambering for freedom.

Tear-stained cheeks,
Scorched by invisible hands.
Vacant eyes, void of life,
Staring past into darkness.

Splattered crimson;
Splotches of scarlet.
Painless torture;
Anguish within.

Death;
Liberation from this infernal abyss.
Taunting, jeering,
Too weak to attain.

Burning sensation;
Marked arms.
Cold steel;
Hopeless comfort.

Flashbacks;
“Once upon a time,”
Now, the “happy ending,”
Only living nightmares.

She prays for the end;
But her mind,
Replays his presence,
“Keep living.”

Her fatherless baby, snuggles;
Buries deeper into warmth.
Warmth,
Impossible for her, the mother.

Wide, innocent blue eyes.
Floods the memories.
Memories she wishes to remember,
And forget.

Curious, angel eyes,
Searching her mother’s soul,
Pulsing, radiating,
Light.

Her heart and being,
Now sparked by her baby,
Flames of hope,
A new beginning.

Oblivious to the world,
The baby, her mother’s precious gift,
Sleeps peacefully,
Never a hero too small.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Christina describes a mother in deep mourning — and how her child reignites her urge to live on.

Never a Hero Too Small

Isha Sikdar

She opens her eyes to see
The morning sun draw patterns
On her child’s quiet face,
Her love in the shadow that brings peace

She whisks away the anxiety
Of her nervous husband who
Is about to crack a multimillion dollar deal,
Her love in the soothing touch of confidence

She consoles the heart
Of her devastated sister
Who just broke up with her boyfriend,
Her love in the strong comforting hug

She breathes the happiness
Of her blind mother
Ecstatic at knowing about her grandkids’ pranks,
Her love in the stories she tells

She feels the responsibility
Towards her father
Unsure of his abilities,
Her love in the arm of support on his shoulder

At the end of the day
As she takes time to herself
The time she spent
With her loved ones flashes through her mind

She senses the smile
The happiness
The serenity of those close to her
That brings forth the warmth and joy on her own tired face

She now knows that
She is a woman
Her day never ends
And her life is but a web of love

A web, woven intricately
Around the lives
Of those who do and don’t belong to her
Because a woman does not choose, she simply delivers.

In a KidSpirit poem, teen writer Isha leads us through the life of a woman who takes it upon herself to take care of her loved ones in their time of need.

A Day in a Woman's Life

Caie Kelley

Females have long been regarded as the lesser gender in Chinese culture. In a classic Chinese work, Pan Chao writes, “Let a woman modestly yield to others… let her bear disgrace; let her endure when others speak or do evil to her.”

Yet as China continues to modernize, and the influences of the Internet, Western culture, and the unplanned shortage of women due to the one-child policy begin to have their effects, the traditional roles of females may be beginning to change.

It is very possible that the idea of equality for all is finding an audience with the Asian populace, and, on a personal level, altering the way I am treated as a young woman. I discovered this during a dinner conversation while visiting family in Hong Kong.

As is usual in my big Chinese family, we were seated at a large, circular table crammed with steaming dishes of rice, noodles, tofu, and mysterious meats. Gradually, the clatter of plastic chopsticks died down and the usual exchange of “do je sai,” meaning “thank you,” in Cantonese, faded away, and we began to converse.

“These days it is so common to send our kids off to the United States to study,” my uncle, seated at the head of the table, explained, “and they return home heavily influenced by American ideals. I’ve been working internationally for a long time, so my views on gender equality differ from that of my parents. I think as that becomes more commonplace, the way traditional Chinese parents raise their kids and view their daughters will adapt.”

My male cousin chimed in, “And really, when you think about it, all this bias is pretty outdated. China’s government obviously has to deal with the male-to-female ratio, but it already seems like in the big cities of China, those ‘traditional roles have largely faded. Women have more and more of the same opportunities as men.” They turned to me, “What job are you considering, Caie?”

As a junior in high school without concrete career plans, this question always induces panic, but as I paused and tried to prevent myself from incoherently mumbling, I thought about how his question underscored the changing gender roles for Chinese girls. Having grown up in California with American values, I don’t often think about these traditional restrictions.

My mother, however, was the first female in her family to obtain a college degree. Before she left home for an American education, none of her sisters had even completed high school. While her little brother remained in school, her four older sisters took jobs at the local factory when they turned 13. In contrast, my sister and I plan on attending college, and never even considered dropping out of school to support our family. “You would never have heard about high-achieving females when I was growing up,” my mother explains. “I was a very lucky exception, because my sisters realized the value of school, and they worked very hard so I could keep with it. Fortunately, these standards are changing fast in China, and girls are reaping the benefits.”

Until relatively recently, a woman’s role was always in the home. My great grandmother had bound feet, so she was physically limited in her ability to move around or work in the fields. Instead, she was expected to cook and clean, maneuvering only the small area of her living quarters. In that light, the fact that today I am expected to achieve just as much as my male cousins is incredible. I did not have an answer to my uncle’s question, but I found myself smiling. I may not know who I will be, but I know what I can be, and that I am no longer limited by tradition.

Our world is truly progressing, and a new perspective is taking over not only the countries of Asia but also the rest of the globe. For me, the change is reflected in conversations with my male family members where I am treated as an equal, and I am all too happy to be part of this new wave.

In a KidSpirit Awesome Moments article, teen writer Caie reflects on how the role of women in Chinese culture has shifted toward equality in the modern era.

A Growing Transformation

Gemma Laurence

Miss Representation is the most provocative and inspiring movie I’ve ever seen. This documentary film directed, written, and produced by Jennifer Siebel Newson, explores how media misrepresents and degrades women.

Short clips from movies and from advertisements are spliced into interviews and slides of fascinating statistics, creating a riveting film. The movie features both male and female scholars; interviews of famous women such as Condoleezza Rice, Nancy Pelosi, Rachel Maddow and Gloria Steinem; alongside the heart-wrenching stories of high school students today. I already knew that the media was sexist, but I never peeled back the layers to see how atrocious it truly is and the impact it has on American society.

This documentary made me think about how few powerful women you actually see in the media. In movies, advertisements, and music, women are constantly seen as nothing more than shallow, sexualized objects. The very few female protagonists in television and in films are usually not even strong characters. Their stories revolve around men in what marketers describe as “chick flicks,” and even in action movies, the scantily-clad female superheroes are also obviously targeted to the male audience. In the news, when Katie Couric was the first woman to be a solo anchor for one of the three traditional American broadcast networks, instead of listening to what she had to say, the media scrutinized how she looked and the length of her skirt. Miss Representation shows how this objectification of women not only undermines them, but also leads to the underrepresentation of females in positions of power and influence. It teaches young girls that they should be valued on merely their appearance, discouraging them from pursuing their dreams.

Watching Miss Representation motivated me to change how society treats women and girls. Kids of all ages have the potential to change America and to achieve gender equality by challenging the media and not valuing women just for their appearance. Condoleezza Rice said that we make a mistake when we say that we need a role model to make a difference. Rice exclaimed, “If Sally Ride, the first female astronaut, had been waiting for a female astronaut role model, she would have never done it!”

I have to say, although the points made by the scholars and famous women in the movie were thought-provoking, the stories of the regular high school students were what touched me the most. One girl spoke of how insecure she had always been about her weight, because she had grown to believe that she had to be skinny to be beautiful; and another girl said she would change her appearance just in order to fit in. A high school student spoke of her younger sister who was driven to self-harm because she was teased at school for not having “the perfect body.” These real-life stories showed just how much the media is impacting girls in terrible ways and undermining their self-confidence.

I believe that all teenagers should watch this movie, both boys and girls. It was encouraging to see the women in the film mentoring and reaching out to one another because the only way women will be able to achieve parity with men is by working together. However, I also believe it is important for boys to watch this movie so that they realize sexism is not just a “woman’s issue.” The documentary touched on how men are expected to be smarter, stronger, and superior to women. If men are taught from a young age to have a so-called “tough” and misogynistic attitude and behavior through media’s stereotypes, then this sexism will never go away. Although the media has a terrible impact on society, we as the younger generation have the power to make a difference.

This documentary does have graphic images, so I wouldn’t recommend it for anyone under the the age of 13. I also noted that one or two shocking statistics (such as American teenagers averaging 10 hours and 45 minutes of media consumption per day) seemed borderline unrealistic, so I would be interested to know their sources. Despite the lack of references, it was a wonderfully made, gripping documentary that is definitely worth watching. Not only did the film hold my attention, but it taught me a new way to see media. The featured scholars had interesting points that I had never thought of before, while the stories of high school students today touched my heart. It was also encouraging to see celebrities standing up for feminism and speaking their mind, especially because it was against the media that had made them famous. Miss Representation inspired me to reach out to other girls and to take a stand against social media, and I believe it can inspire you as well.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Gemma unpacks Jennifer Newsom's "Miss Representation," a documentary about how the media influences women's self-perception.

Media Lies: A Review of Miss Representation

Caroline Hochman

The movie Brave, directed by Mark Andrews and Brenda Chapman, is a riveting, comedic tale surrounding the ideas of fate, misunderstanding, stereotypes, and gender, hidden under the cover of another accursed, animated Disney princess film.

It starts in what we assume to be medieval Scotland, with the king and queen of one of the four local clans. Our main character is the teenage princess, Merida, who loves to be free (I know it sounds cheesy). She hates being confined to the attributes which make up a princess according to her mother. But Merida has different ideas. Her mother is a source of annoyance to her because she insists on Merida being an ideal princess, which is the opposite of what Merida wants to be. Brave takes the stereotypical, beautiful, dependent Disney princess and transforms it further by saying that she can be free of men and that she can fight — really fight — not just as a mannequin on horseback. It shows a new trend in Disney princesses, which is that they can not only be independent, but they can be rid of the confines of the Disney man.

The groundbreaking aspect of Brave is that gender stereotypes which have been a great factor in Disney princess movies are almost entirely absent. Here is a brief history of sexism in Disney princess movies. The first Disney princess movie, in 1937, was Snow White, in which Disney promoted stereotypes which kids were conditioned by for 76 years: the gorgeous prince, the weak princess and the evil stepmother. After the movie Cinderella (Disney’s 2nd film), came Sleeping Beauty. In Sleeping Beauty, Aurora only shows up for 18 minutes out of 75. This somehow made people believe that she was unimportant — go figure. Made in 1959, it was a considerable step back in princess movies: the whole story is about a timid, dull girl being saved by a beautiful prince in shining armor.

After that came The Little Mermaid, which was considerably better than Sleeping Beauty, but the real breakthrough occurred in Beauty and the Beast. In Beauty and the Beast, made in 1991, Belle was the first princess to be educated. After that came Aladdin, which was shortly followed by the release of Pocahontas. Both were better in terms of depicting strong female characters, but neither were significant breakthroughs. In 1998, the movie Mulan was released featuring the first real warrior heroine. Before and since there have been many princesses brandishing frying pans and umbrellas and the like, but this is the first truly empowered female warrior.

Since then there have been many attempts at gender equality in Disney princess movies but until Brave, the princesses have not broken out of all the confines and stereotypes of earlier movies. Merida has multiple arguments with her mom and goes so far as to try to win her own hand rather than being married off. To Merida, marriage is the polar opposite of freedom, and Merida’s dream is freedom, making her entirely adverse to marriage during the story. Her love is for archery rather than men.

The script in Brave is amazing to the last word, being witty and hammered with jokes. The timing is also impressive, in fact at some points in the movie I was close to tears because it was so funny. The humor in Brave will be enjoyable to the whole family. Although a lot of the humor in Brave comes out through jokes, some arises from making fun of stereotypes. An example of this is the fact that the stereotypes of women being polite and men being rowdy are so extreme that they actually become funny. Brave also has sight-gags, ironic humor and slap-stick humor. Overall, the screenplay in Brave was effective, though at times rather predictable. At some points you can see what’s going to happen from a mile away.

The magic and mystical parts of Brave were a bit young for me, such as the will-o-the-wisps and the witch. But although I was not particularly interested in them, I was sucked in and found myself wanting to help the characters. Other than the magic, the plot did not quite fit my expectations, mostly because when compared with the snappy humor, the plotline was a bit less-convincing. Even though the plot is much better than other Disney movies (mostly because of the humor and fighting), the story is more like an unusual version of a coming-of-age story. It shows the tension between the mother and daughter, an incentive to get their acts together and then a bond between them that is much stronger than in the beginning of the movie. (A similar example of this plot is in the famous film “Freaky Friday”.) While at exciting points in the plot Brave really sucks you in and makes you nervous, at other moments unexpected reversals occur that make up for some of the predictable plot twists. I gave Brave a lower rating because of the weaknesses in the plot.

Brave is great and has some absolute rolling-on-the-floor moments but is meant for a younger audience. I would suggest the movie to people who like really analyzing movies and what they symbolize. All and all Brave was a very good movie and I recommend it.

In a KidSpirit Media review, teen writer Caroline takes a close look at Pixar's "Brave," about a Scottish princess rebelling against the wishes of her parents.

A Brave Move

Vidushi Sharma

In a KidSpirit Big Question response, teen writer Vidushi Sharma highlights points of both tension and harmony in how gender relates to her sense of self.

Is Gender Central to Sense of Self?

Misbah Awan

“Towel-Head. Tablecloth. Batman. Ninja. Oppressed. Raghead. Terrorist. Do you have Cancer? Do you have hair? Do you shower with it on? Oh, you can think? Don’t you feel hot in the summer? Do you wear it to sleep? Did your dad force you to wear it? Well, okay, fine… did your mom?” mimicked the Muslim girls, who sat in chairs in a loose version of a circle, their faces red, drained with anger and shock.

People tend to judge those wearing a cloth covering their head, without a second thought of whether those comments or questions are considerate.

It’s a natural instinct to be curious, but comments on the hijab are often born of ignorance. After September 11th, 2001, there was a pronounced stereotyping of the headscarf. American citizens, specifically, put their guards go up and became more closed off to strangers. This only pushed Muslims to further seek ways to lend a hand to those who suffered due to the attacks on the Twin Towers. Not only did they want to show that they were unlike the group of people who crashed into the World Trade Center, they genuinely cared and ached to help. But this didn’t stop people from quickly judging.

Many have portrayed the hijab as an ostracizing and anti-feminist sign of oppression, when in reality, its purpose is to de-objectify women and stand as a symbol of pride in one’s religion. A friend of mine claims that people tend to look away from their iPods and phones and look up silently while she walks by. I have not encountered this, but once on a visit to Washington, D.C., a woman in a car sank her back into her seat and stared wide-eyed at me. She honestly seemed scared and I felt really bad about myself after that. I wish I had said hello or smiled at her, but all I did was glance at her and simply crossed the road. I now wonder if it’s because of my hijab. If I hadn’t worn it, would she have been relaxed and doing something else or had her focus on anyone other than me? Did she think I was a terrorist? Did she think I was oppressed?

I was three when I came to America and still a toddler. I had no way of knowing what terrorism was, or that planes could crash into buildings, or even what a bomb was.

Everything eventually did cool down, even though the lives of many weren’t exactly “normal” afterward. September 11th intensified the judgments some individuals held against Muslims. The easiest Muslims to identify are the ones who wear the hijab and they use this symbolic physical thing, his headscarf, as a way to point fingers and call Muslims terrorists. I want to talk about why I wear the hijab and how it has become a part of me.

Although we associate the term “hijab” with Muslims, this form of modesty did not originate in Islam. Women in ancient Mesopotamia wore a cloth over their heads to differentiate between “respectable” women from those who of a different class, or who were single. It usually showed rank, lifestyle, and class in the Assyrian community.

During the time of the Muslim conquest at around 640 C.E., invasions led to a gradual turn toward a Qur’anic conception of head covering in Greek, Persian, and Mesopotamian societies. The practice of wearing a head covering spread to other countries as an expression of modesty and piety. Although Muslims believe Jesus (peace be upon him*) was another prophet in Islam, they do not believe he is the “Son of God.” However, Muslims do have a strong connection to the Virgin Mary. In Christianity, the Virgin Mary is usually shown with a head covering. In fact, depictions of the Virgin Mary with a cloth covering her head may conjure images of Muslim women.

The hijab is a veil that covers the head and chest area, and is translated as “curtain” or “screen” from the Arabic language. To those who wear it, the hijab symbolizes purity, dignity, courage, and self-respect, as it reveals the character of a woman to society. Most Muslim girls begin to wear the hijab when they reach puberty — the time when young people question everything and everyone. Women traditionally wear the hijab in front of non-related adult males. A woman can take off the veil in front of those she is related to, whether by blood or marriage. Despite this, the hijab is a commitment to oneself and to Allah (literally meaning “the God” in Arabic) because it shows you are following the steps required for you to become a better Muslim. In some cultures, however, it is not even acceptable to uncover in front of in-laws.

Many individuals around the world believe that the scarf is just for physical protection, but it serves to present one’s self to the world by honoring one’s faith and character — who he or she is as an individual — and contributing knowledge and understanding to society. In Islam, it is believed that the modesty of wearing a hijab not only helps women, but also helps most men to lower their gaze to prevent the sexual objectification of women. It practically forces people to see a woman’s inner beauty, rather than the style of her hair and earrings she’s wearing, or if her body is the ideal and “perfect” size. Fariha, who is 14, commented, “It hides your physical beauty and allows your inner beauty to show.” Men will be able to look away and not entertain themselves with a thought about the woman’s physical qualities, and instead will be given a chance to explore her personality. On the other hand, the older generations tend to tell the younger generations that the hijab should be worn because it helps prevent rape. Sure, it helps to not be immediately sexualized, but the fact that some people think clothing provokes a rapist to “target” a person is completely ludicrous. The idea of a hijab preventing you from rape is a myth.

Muslim men share a similar physical modesty in clothing. Most Muslim men wear loose, long robes, traditionally, in the Middle East. They aren’t expected to wear a veil or any other kind of cloth on their face. Those living in more “modern” countries have adapted to the custom of wearing a Western button-down shirt and pants. They are still covered and do not wear anything tight. Both men and women are charged with the duty to present themselves to the world in a modest way that shows their character and morals.

There is a great deal of personal choice associated with wearing a veil, which one can see in the different variations of the hijab. There are hijab tutorials all over YouTube with a devoted and enthusiastic following. The commitment of some to making videos about wearing the hijab is a form of “dawah,” often spelled “Da’awah,” a term which means the preaching of Islam. They are targeting Muslims and non-Muslims alike, especially youth, in order to share the history and fashion of the hijab.

In a KidSpirit Feature article, teen writer Misbah examines the cultural, spiritual, and personal significance of the hijab — a head covering sometimes worn by Muslim women.

Uncovering the Hijab

From a look at gender roles in society, religion, and media to inner inquiry, this issue reflects both the changing landscape of today’s culture and the eternal questions of our relationship to self and the other.

My Body Is Not a Cage

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