#GirlsShitToo

Shit Goes Down at the Winter Sports Pep Rally

After third period, the student body made their way to the gym for the pep rally.

Normally, Alex and Benny and I would ditch pep rallies. They didn't take attendance, and our school gym didn't seem large enough to accommodate all the students, anyways. Plus, I had very little pep, especially concerning our boys' basketball team, the Crystal Shore Condors. They needed all help they could get. Our girls' basketball team was actually good, but since they were a girls' team, nobody paid much attention to them, even though they were the ones who brought home trophies.

Benny and Alex texted me saying that they were both going to the assembly, which was weird—something that should have made me question the situation more than I did. So I asked Dylan to ditch with me, but Dylan didn't like breaking the rules, no matter how much I tried to convince him there was no way we'd get in trouble.

"I'm going," he told me firmly. "We're going."

"Can we please not?"

"Dallas, this is our senior year, one of the last rallies we ever get to go to. We're going. We can't miss it!"

"I really don't see the point."

"We. Are. Going!" Dylan grabbed my hand and dragged me further into the crowd of bodies, and we squeezed past the point of no return: the gym doors. Not only was I feeling claustrophobic and suffocated by all of the other students in the gym, which was something I could only put up with at metal concerts when people wore black and head-banged; I was feeling suffocated by all of the pep, with all of the students in their red and silver, with all of the school spirit emanating from their hair ribbons and face paint. It was too much for me, because I didn't understand it. I didn't understand why all these people who always clustered in their cliques that hated on each other were now coming together for this cause—to cheer for our winter sports teams. How many of these students even cared about our winter sports teams? At least at a metal concert, all the people who were coming together were coming together because they liked the music and cared about the scene. This felt pretend.

Even the thought of seeing Valerie perform in a few moments wasn't making me feel better. As we found a spot on the bleachers, Dylan took out his phone and started taking a video of the assembly.

"What are you doing?"

"Live-streaming."

"Who in the eff would watch a livestream of our school's pep assembly?"

"I'm sure someone will."

I disagreed. Tolerating the assembly from inside the gym was only possible because I was stuck here. I couldn't imagine anyone tolerating a livestream of this red and silver chaos from a personal computer, not when they could navigate to something more entertaining and less suffocating with the mere click of a button. Too bad I couldn't simply click to disappear the scene in front of me.

I tried to go to that place inside my head where I could hide and think about anything else, like what my next vlog could be, feeling all this pressure after Valerie told me she "hoped" it turned out good. Her minty breath had left me tingly and inspired, and I wanted it to be perfect, and positive—I didn't want it to be another negative-nancy vlog. I wanted it to echo the sentiment of the #WhatLittleGirlsCANBecome thread.

And in the thought journey on which I traveled while I sat stationary on the bleachers, I realized that all girls—even those who were super feminine, like Valerie—could take on positions like those of aerospace engineers without sacrificing all of their femininity. As much as I hated to admit it, Adree was right; feminine women could bring some stellar stuff to the table. They didn't and shouldn't have to sacrifice their femininity. Valerie could be a kickass feminine engineer, one who modeled good listening and cooperation and encouraged compromise.