elizabethlevett

A girl is a wild thing. She is oblivious to what she’s expected to do, how she’s expected to act. She will wear her pink tutu with striped tights and cowboy boots to play outside. If allowed, she will build forts and make mud pies. A girl cannot, should not, truly be controlled.

A girl is an untamed thing. She took an apple from a snake and fouled up the whole business right then and there. She carries the yoke of pain and the burden of motherhood. It serves her right though. It’s the Lord’s will for her to stay home.

A girl is a resilient thing. She can hide from the Nazi’s for two years in a wall and write a diary which will not only survive her but will wind up translated into seventy languages and land in the hands of thirty million readers. Her face will haunt their memories.

A girl is a problem for a family. She gets ideas into her head and brings shame to her brothers. She must be kept covered, kept silent, kept out of sight, lest her appearance stir or offend. She can’t help her weakness, but you can’t allow her to upset the order of things.

A girl is sometimes a moving thing, a flying thing. She can endure years of trauma and persevere to become the most decorated gymnast in Olympic history. She can tell you the truth about what she’s been through and why her choices are important to her and to so many others. A girl is magic in flight.

A girl is a weak and stupid little thing. She should know better. She leaves the house dressed like that and whatever happens serves her right. Her job is to stay home and have children. All girls want children. It’s only natural. A girl should know her place.

A girl is a fierce survivor. She can recover — somehow — from a Taliban bullet to become the youngest Nobel laureate in history. She can go on to represent girls from a world where girls are kept silent. She can become the eloquent voice of voiceless millions.

A girl is an unstable thing. She is far too emotional to lead. You say the wrong thing and a girl is liable to become upset. It’s almost like you can’t say anything anymore. You have to explain things over and over to her because she always has something else on her mind. She is a liability on the job.

A girl is a brilliant light and a stable presence. She can be, and has been, a leader in over a third of the world’s nations. She can tell a skeptical world that the stars are comprised mainly of hydrogen. She can discover radium and polonium. Her calculations of orbital mechanics can help make space travel possible. And she can make you laugh at yourself if you let her.

A girl can be a real bitch sometimes. I thought she liked me, but then she turned on me. It only happened one time and she has to make a big deal about it. I said I was sorry. What a bitch. Must be that time of the month or something. And don’t even get me started on old ladies. They’re even worse.

A girl can grow up to be a woman — a magnificent, surprising, accomplished being. She can go from homeless teenage mom to veteran to entrepreneur and public speaker, meeting with congress people and even the president, while caring for her four kids and her elderly mom. She can shred a guitar like Hendrix and break your heart with her songs or amass more Grammys than anyone in history. She can run after a bus in heels with a baby on her hip. A girl is powerfully and fearfully made. A girl is a blessing.