Displaying items by tag: we don't know what we don't know until we know it

When I was growing up, I preferred being outside playing in the dirt or woods to being inside learning how to cook and bake. I liked watching TV and the shows I watched inspired stories and games that I managed to wrangle my younger sister and brother into playing. I rebelled against the “domestic” chores my grandma asked me to do -- laundry, clean my room, and learn how to make meals. I preferred stuffed animals to baby dolls. I wanted to be outside, in the grass and dirt. I wanted to be “one of the boys” like my dad or cousin. 

But as I got older, it was an unspoken suggestion that my desire to be outside getting dirty was “unlady like” and that I needed to be quiet in school and church, and wear more feminine attire. I needed to be more of a girl. Always a people pleaser, I internalized those subliminal suggestions and I tried my best to conform, especially when I was out in public or with my grandmothers. I could be more outgoing at my house, but had to reign in my emotions when I was in school, in church, or anywhere out in public.

By the time I hit my teenage years, I was focused on getting good grades and making myself as small as possible so I wouldn't attract attention. I developed an eating disorder as a way to rebel against “womanhood” and all that it entailed. Of course, I didn’t realize that making my body stop developing was an act of defiance. I didn’t think that suppressing who I was would matter all that much. I was just trying to fit in and be a “functional adult.” But now years later, I can see how I had been stifled from living my authentic self, through no one’s fault. We don’t know what we don’t know until we know it.  

When I got to college, my vision of things changed. My professors shared books written by all kinds of writers from all over the world, including women -- women who were not afraid to write about controversial subject matter. Reading about other women’s stories, whether true or fictional, was eye-opening. It dawned on me that I could also be myself. I read women whom I admired, those who wrote about their stories, even if they were hard and difficult to share. They spoke up about injustices and weren’t afraid to share their opinion about certain issues.