(Illustration by Vikki Chu)
I think of girlhood as a seed in a flowerbed, peaking into the world, ready for life. The garden, your support system, nurturing you through every cycle.
Rooted into the ground, we sprout fiercely with our bright colors. Differing in shape and size; girls, like flowers, are not one in the same.
My girlhood is one I’ll cherish forever. I remember feeling fearless. I loved receiving attention and my smart mouth. I stood up for myself, even as I trembled. My fellow seeds, my girls, intrigued me. We talked and laughed and fought. We sought to be our own selves, learning from the other.
There’s a shift, however, and eventually what grounds us gets cut. Roots tugged from the Earth. We’re separated; put into vases and put on display.
Every season, more flowers are planted. Girls become teens who become women that don’t remember their lives as a bud. Memories can be traced, but there’s magic in youth, especially young girls.
My two nieces remind me daily the wonders of girlhood. Discovery and enchantment. The importance of individuality and believing in yourself.
Though my pedals have wilted and my water murky, I still believe in rebirth. With every achievement, laugh, or joke told, I’m reminded there’s always chance to plant another seed.
I hope that no one cuts their roots. Or worse, they pick up the shears themselves.