Episode 4: My Generation’s Teen Girls.

By: Hanya Grida

This week, I come to you with a illustrated description of where I belong. I know most of my readers are teen girls. This is to tell you all dear, angry girls that I’m sorry you have to go through what I can relate to. I’m sorry that your energy – instead of being spent on changing the world- is spent fixing the world. I’m sorry you stay up at night thinking about how to get that boy  to notice you are unlike other girls instead of how to get the boy to notice who you really are. I’m sorry you are carrying expectations and rubrics on physical appearance up your spine. I’m sorry you have to think of your future aligned with your reputation that doesn’t only carry your name but your father’s, mother’s, sister’s, brother’s, and people you don’t even know of. In this episode of our journey together, I want you to know that we are all going through the adventure but with slightly different obstacles. I want the teen girls to acknowledge their beauty and athletically glorious existence. I want the teen boys to appreciate/understand this and grow up to enjoy the fresh minty air they exhale instead of putting the same weighs on their daughters’ shoulders.

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So, 

“My generation’s teen girls are the kinda girls you’d  wanna hang out regardless of your age/race/sex….e.t.c

My generation’s teen girls are NOT brains and looks but beyond

My generation’s teen girls are warm healing hugs and pupils striking till defeat.

My generation’s teen girls are the scent of golden in september’s leaves and the radiance of yellow in april’s sunflowers.

 

They stay silent when they feel underestimated but they’ll get what they want anyway.

They are threats of destruction if they get kicked out of control but are the only place you’ll go to when you want to feel in control.

They are all at once.

The globe’s positive and negative poles meet in their chakras.

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You’ll find yourself doing what they would do in certain situations but ranting about their ruthlessness in others.

The eye roll syndrome will infect you because – even though eye rolls get on your nerves- it will capture you.

You’ll find yourself trying out all sort of eye rolls for  you can’t move on from the thought that the girl in mom jeans looked great in her brave eye roll.

They are disciplinarily undisciplined, a storm whose hands are filled with roses.

They are savageness with kindness in their essence, loving only the boy they can help save or maybe the boy they can help change.

 

My generation’s teen girls are beach waves and bikinis or maybe long skirts and hijabs.

My generation’s teen girls are limbs draped over shoulders and bones holding rebel statements.

My generation’s teen girls are mystery and romance and unity and acne.

My generation’s teen girls are center of attention whether they like it or not for you can’t help being curious about what’s going on behind their baby eyes’ sparkles.

 

And it kills me that my world can not take care of those beautiful creatures.

It kills me that those self-expressive fairies cannot let out all the energy, fearless of sexual harassment.

It kills me that they are blamed for high pedophilia and rape rates while all they ever did was draw their fingerprints everywhere they go.

It kills me that those girls ,whose heart beats pulse stronger than the rhythmic dance hit on top of billboard’s list, get their energy imprisoned by society’s handcuffs and chains.

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Hanya.osama701@mes.edu.eg

Email me when you have something to say. Email me feedback.Email me your writing. Email me your experience. Email me your reflections. We connect and make art.

 

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