By Makayla Palm
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I remember the feeling I had the first time I was in the Aeropostale
fitting rooms, trying on what was supposed to be the trendiest clothes for the
latest fashion season. I remember wanting to fit in, but also the conflicting
feeling of wanting to be myself.
I’ve been a tomboy since I can remember. Skimming the aisles of the
Justice store (I’m sure I’m dating myself here) made me cringe, with the
sparkly unicorns and neon pink layered skirts. Aero wasn’t much better, with
everything feeling too tight. I’m not a fashionista by any means, but damn, it
all screamed at me. It screamed “NOT me.”
I remember feeling discouraged that I didn’t see many clothing items in
the girl’s section that I felt comfortable with, anywhere. I also had grown
more quickly than most girls in my class, so I felt that I was bigger than most
of them. I was a competitive athlete for most of middle and high school. I knew
I was fit but comparing myself to others still didn’t feel good.
I know how far the comparison game gets me now but having an outward
expression of an internal feeling as a part of your everyday life can make that
hard to remember. Not only did I outwardly look different, but I also
internally felt different. A lot of the girls I saw in the halls were entitled,
sassy, and bossy. I later learned the adult word for that is “bitch.” Seeing
that example taught me something that would mold how I perceived emotions: girls
have too many emotions, so they are bad. Flaunting your emotions outwardly and
using them to get your way in life was what I saw at school, day in and day
out. I hated that example, so I decided to do the exact opposite. I kept most
of my inward feelings to myself.
I found most of my friends to be boys, they were easier to hang out
with, and they actually wanted to play outside. I liked the same things as they
did: Star Wars, sharks, and dinosaurs. I remember sitting in the bleachers for
an assembly when one of my friends told me I didn’t have cooties like the other
girls did. I wore that endorsement as a badge for years. Boys didn’t worry
about what I wore or what my hair looked like that day. They (usually) wouldn’t
start fights with one another over petty things, to then pretend to be best
friends the next day. I saw girls (and implicitly emotions) as complicated,
kind of dumb, and increasingly immature, and I wanted nothing to do with it.
My struggles with girls continued, and only intensified through middle
and high school. Things just got more awkward as I realized that boys could be
more than friends, too. To this day, I have more boy (space) friends than girl
(space) friends. As I continued to grow in mind and body, my battle with my own
emotions got more difficult. I didn’t really know what to do with all the
hormones from puberty and years’ worth of stuffed emotions. Nobody really knows
what to do with it all, but it’s easy to feel isolated in such a time of
awkwardness. I also was growing out my bangs and had braces. Not my best years
by any means.
I remember arguing with my mom about what to wear for family pictures.
Almost anything considered ‘acceptable’ had to be ‘feminine’. Feminine meant to
young me, dresses and skirts, ruffles and bright colors, animal print and
sequins. No thank you! I was usually wearing boy’s shorts and graphic T-shirts,
with a color palate that didn’t drift far from black and navy blue. I don’t
hold it against her now, and I will begrudgingly admit I needed help to be
pushed out of my fashion comfort zone every once in a while.
What I was going through then without realizing it was a struggle with
self-acceptance and expression. I think a lot of us can relate to this these
days. I (thought) I was content with my guy friends, burying my emotions
because I saw them as weak. This led to few but far in between outbursts,
fueled by the stress of high school. I thought it was normal, to stuff it like
that.
I remember going through an emotionally taxing and confusing time of
trying to determine between two boys: my “boyfriend” and my best guy friend.
Let’s call my boyfriend K and my best friend G. Because of my stuffed emotions,
at this point I couldn’t keep much to myself. I needed “my person” to vent with
and share my days with. K was not the best communicator, so he and I were not
doing well. But I always knew my G was there when I needed it, so my feelings
drifted toward him. It felt wrong, to have feelings for G while being with K.
It was a difficult time, because we were all learning ourselves, and a big part
of that confusion was me not listening to myself. I remember sitting in a pile
of emotional goo, and not having a clue of what to do with any of it. I think
back on that now and realize how shutting out my feelings hurt me way more than
it helped. (In case you’re wondering, I’m not with either one of those boys,
but G is still an important part of my life.)
There were more messy and complicated parts of my life than these
instances I’ve chosen to share. I’m sure we all have moments like these we
remember from childhood as we discover our preferences and passions in life. I
know growing up is learning to deal with a lot of emotional goo, so what is the
point I am making here? The point I am making is that I learned, albeit later
in life, that femininity has more than one look, more than one personality.
I knew early on I would be a science major, geology to be specific.
While most STEM fields in the workforce are male dominated, because of my
childhood this was not intimidating to me. That was a good thing from my
experience. Working and interacting with men was not something foreign or weird
to me. It was the women I was more intimidated by. I did not really look for women in my field,
mainly because it wasn’t a concern of mine. I still believed, up until I was a
junior or senior in high school, that I would be okay continuing to stuff the
emotional part of myself that I continued to wage war with.
Until I cracked.
Fast forward to March of 2020. Everyone’s world shattered with the news
of COVID-19, but my world was cracked to its core. My boyfriend of a year and a
half had become my lifeline, and not knowing how long I would be apart from him
launched a journey of anxiety and mental health mess. With the stress of
wrapping up high school and starting college, the years of emotional repression
finally caught up with me. I know by Spring of 2021 I had begun a journey
towards the door of depression. But the pandemic forced me to face my emotional
mess.
I remember scheduling what was called a spiritual direction session with
someone I knew and trusted. She is a sweet lady who lives with her husband on a
peaceful organic farm in a farm town full of corn fields. She helped me put
names to the emotions I was feeling, which was something I wasn’t good at. I
was discouraged, frustrated, and desired change. I prayed a lot that day,
sitting in the renovated milk house and crying. It felt vulnerable: terrible
yet relieving. That was the beginning of embracing my emotions, but also my
femininity.
I have learned, not that long ago, how to name, express and validate my
emotions. Over time, the idea that these emotions were labeling me as something
less than I desired to be, that femininity was something less than I wanted to
be, faded. I have come to realize, after counseling, growth, and more prayer,
there is a true strength in emotional expression. To be able to look inside of
yourself, to be willing to be vulnerable with yourself and to recognize what is
going well and what is not is harder than ignoring it. This was when I
discovered the power of femininity. The ability to be brave enough to see my
raw self, to experience the emotion, and to keep life rolling. This is a
strength often attributed to femininity, but I argue we could all use a little
more of it, especially these days.
I think I have had this potential my whole life, the potential to
harness my emotional strength and lend it to others. I have had some tough
times; I’ve been the victim of sexual harassment more than once. I’ve been
through friendship breakups, relationship breakups, and mental health struggle.
So have many other women, and I do not claim to be more victimized than anyone
else. Even in times when it was hard for me to process these things on my own,
I was willing to share these struggles as an olive branch to build a connection
with someone else. If I thought that someone would benefit from sharing in a
common experience, I would share. There were isolated moments like these where
I was able to recognize that inner strength.
I ‘ve always wanted to be the hero in my own story, to be the bad ass
who would change the world. To not let fear (emotions, really is what I meant)
get in my way and conquer all. I had a certain picture in my head of how I
could do that. I couldn’t tell you what exactly what that picture was, but it
banked on me continuing to ignore my emotions and denying a huge part of
myself. But I realized over the years, that I am not built that way. I do not
run off of just action and logic, intelligence and athleticism. All of those
things need motivation, whether I wanted to realize that or not. It has taken
me far too long to realize that I can possess the same strength I’ve always
wanted, but not in a way that shut off a vital part of who I am.
Recently in a writing class of mine someone wrote a story with all of us
going on a mission together. This was written based on the author’s early
perceptions of us as people. I was portrayed as the support system for the
leader, the wing-man the badass hero cannot make it through the mission
without. At first, I was insulted, but then I realized, several months later,
both characters are essential to tell the story. All those years, I did a huge
disservice to myself, trying to cut out a part of myself that I felt was wrong.
The problem wasn’t really with me, it was what I thought femininity was
supposed to be. Strength comes in all shapes and sizes.
I am more than content with myself now. I can express myself clearly
(although not concisely, as I’m sure you were aware of 500 words ago). I have
discovered I can be feminine and not wear a dress. I can enjoy fashion, shop
sustainably and find clothes that fit well and feel good in my own style. I can
embrace my womanhood and femininity, even if it’s a little nontraditional. Just
because I do not feel comfortable in a pre-destined social standard does not
mean I am unacceptable. I love the way I am made, and I am continuing to learn
how to appreciate my unique composition of mind, heart and body. I am happy to
be a woman in STEM. I am happy to be in a thriving relationship with a dashing
man who won my heart long before I knew it. And I am happy to be in a place of
better mental health.
My hope is that these words will resonate with you in some way. I want
you to know that you can be you. And to keep looking for ways to express
yourself, and to fight the beast of emotions. It can be hard, and sometimes it
feels impossible. If you learn something about yourself by reading a bit of my
journey, go write it down. Even a year ago, I would have considered this kind
of reflection impossible. I sit here now and breathe with lighter lungs and sit
with relaxed shoulders as I type through this. Do yourself a favor and embrace
your journey, even the messy, emotional parts. I hope it doesn’t take you
almost 20 years to discover yourself, as it did me.
About
the Author
Makayla
Palm majored in Geology. She is looking forward to a career of science writing,
but her first love is creative writing. She typically writes short stories and
fiction that focus on character development and those that exemplify different
aspects of the human experience and the complexity of relationships. She is
passionate about mental health advocacy, which inspire the themes of her
writing. “Est 2001, Discovered 2021.” is her first personal essay.