A girl in a lab coat, not having it (yup, I’m lazy, I used AI to generate this one. Maybe I’ll come back later and draw my own).
I’ve known it as long as I can remember.
I remember being told to shut up at age nine when I tried to speak in class.
I remember being taunted and slapped in fifth grade for “thinking I was smarter than everyone else,” because I was good at math.
I remember having my rightful anger dismissed at age thirteen with, “She must be on the rag.”
These aggressions weren’t personal, even though they felt that way.
They didn’t happen because I was obnoxious (though I could be).
They happened because I am female.
A System That Fails Women—By Design
My society restricts my access to medical care because I am female.
It underfunds research on women’s health. It treats the male body as default.
That oversight is killing women.
We die because of poorly designed airbags.
We die because men’s violence is overlooked and normalized.
We die from economic precarity and medical neglect.
We die from being made invisible.
Privilege Is Not Immunity
I carry privilege.
I am white, straight, married, and highly educated.
I am also a first-generation college student who grew up poor, with roots deep in the working class.
I can pass among the academic elite.
But I cannot pass as anything other than a woman.
Growing up, I was punished for not being the “right” kind of girl.
Not sporty. Not fashionable. Not flirty.
Not interested in pleasing boys or in following the script.
Just a girl with opinions. With curiosity. With questions.
And that, in the 1980s, was a cardinal sin.
Always Wrong
As a child I was told enthusiastically by family and teachers and inspirational PSAs that I could do anything.
And I was told—implicitly, constantly—that I was wrong for wanting to.
Wrong to love science.
Wrong to watch nature documentaries instead of teen dramas.
Wrong not to want a boyfriend (or a girlfriend).
Wrong to expect the same respect as the boys around me.
Wrong to be me.
Radical, and Right
My society, my government, my culture have never stopped telling me I am lesser.
Not worthy of control over my own body and choices
Ungrateful for wanting fair treatment
Only valuable for my sexual desirability and capability to produce children
Unnatural, strident, and bossy for speaking up, showing up, and standing firm.
Now, those forces are coming harder than ever.
Stripping away what little autonomy I had.
Claiming to “protect” me from dangerous ideas.
Too late.
By six years old, I already knew the truth:
This country runs on the unpaid, unacknowledged labor of women and girls.
And I was angry.
I didn’t have the words for it yet, but I was already a radical feminist.
It’s what my culture made me.
I could buckle, or I could fight
I choose the fight, I choose the fight—every time.
I don’t believe people should be treated equitably.
I know it.
Justice is not charity.
Empowerment is not a zero-sum game.
We don’t grant people rights.
We stop denying them.
If you think giving voice and supporting people is taking something from you, that’s because you have something to lose, something that’s been denied others. That fear—the fear of losing privilege—is a trap that holds us all. We do not win by holding others down. We win together. We always win by being better, stronger, and freer together.
I Will Not Back Down
My society hates me.
But I have ethics. I have morals.
And I have no intention of going quietly.
I will not apologize for helping girls reach for their dreams in science and engineering.
I will not stop creating spaces where joy and discovery are possible for those the system tries to crush.
I will not stop telling the truth, loudly.
This fight is worthy.
And I was born fighting it.
I will arm this next generation with joy.
With laughter.
With opportunity.
And with SCIENCE.
Girls are watching.
What will you show them?