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(This is the first of a handful of blog posts about my Birthright Israel trip.)
I live in a world of feminists. My emails are feminist, my twitter feed is SO feminist. My happy hours are feminist. My punk shows are pretty feminist. At a recent show, a kid I don’t know took issue with the word “feminist” and said it’s not what I meant – that I should say “progressive” or “liberal” if that’s what I mean – and I was floored. That hasn’t happened to me in a while. I’ve surrounded myself with “these kids” and “kids like me.” I don’t have to explain my hairy legs any more. I can trust that my friends won’t tell rape jokes or use sexist language anymore. The legwork (pun!) is mostly done.
It’s been a long time since I had to meet a whole new big group of people and do that work again – weed through the bullshit and pick out the #kidslikeme. The last time was marching band camp at Syracuse over four years ago. I’m friendly, ok? I can make friends with lots of different types of people. But it’s always a bit of a shock to people when they discover that I’m That Girl. The girl that will call them out on their bullshit. The girl who talks openly about food and eating. Whatever it is. I don’t live in a world where I’m That Girl anymore. All my friends are Those Kids. It’s not a thing. But when John dropped me at the airport for this Birthright trip to Israel and I knew I’d have to meet 40 strangers (jewish punks and feminists at best, reg kids and bros at worst!), I sort of burst into tears. How would I be able to find My Kids in such a short amount of time? What if everyone was super jewy and zionist and they’d hate me for questioning it all? What if all the girls counted calories? The horrors!
I went in with the idea that I would curb my enthusiasm for a few days, at least. See if I could make it a few days without talking about victim-blaming or reproductive rights or the DivaCup or Jesse Carsten’s song “Functioning.” By the time we floated in the dead sea around Day 7, they would know me and like me and they’d be cool enough to not be freaked out by me and hairy legs (is it weird that I’m still this insecure and worried about that one thing? It’s really not necessary, right?). A few people I spoke to this about said that I shouldn’t worry, I should be myself and it’d be fine – but they also said that it could come off as jerky or condescending if I dove right into this stuff without warning. Is being me that far away from being approachable? I was worried! As it turned out, I made it all the way to cruising altitude before talking about SWNYC. #iamwhoiam.
When I told them I was a cheerleader in high school, around Day 2, and they were all surprised and shocked – it took only two days for them to get all the right ideas about me. That’s how I knew I was doing it right. I think overall, I was indeed That Girl to this group of jewish strangers from all over the US. But what if being myself means being that girl? Shrugs. I think that girl is fucking awesome.
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Someone we both know told me she was concerned about your time in Israel with people you didn’t know, what with all the extremist (on both sides) opinions out there. I told her I thought your experience being clear on your beliefs and your ability to stand up for them already at this point in your life would mean that you’d be okay. I said “Sammy will just be herself…” Cool that I was right!
Comment by Marcy 12.28.11 @ 9:19 pmit is important to escape the bubble at times, respect.
Comment by samn 01.04.12 @ 11:46 pmLeave a comment
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