Fight like a girl

At 7 years old I was taller than most of the boys my age, and tougher. I loved to play outside, up a tree or on the field with the boys in the neighborhood. Most days I had splinters in my hands, scrapes on my knees and calloused feet.

Many days when I played outside with the boys in my neighborhood, I was in a princess costume. A costume that had seen better days and bore the brunt of the tree climbing, galloping through the streets and rolling through the grass. The boys were so accustomed to my dress they didn’t question it, especially as they had a great respect for my ability to dribble the soccer ball.

Late one July evening I was playing with Ashley and my favorite doll under our mimosa tree when Christopher jumped from behind the tree, only to taunt me for being a girl and playing like with a doll. Ashley sat quietly, looking a little frightened. Christopher was the kind of boy that didn’t care that he was stronger than girls and would hit them hard anyway.

“Go away Christopher.” I said.

“I want to play dolls with you today.” He sneered, then grabbed Freida, my doll.

Ashley started crying, I jumped up and quickly punched him in the stomach, not as hard as I could because mom taught me it wasn’t nice to hit but his eyes got big and still grunted.

“Give me back my doll.”

Without flinching, Christopher started to saunter away holding Freida by a foot, swinging her in such a way that I was afraid her leg would come off.

“No!” He said. And, then began to run.

With my princess dress hiked up around my knees I caught him, tripping him onto the pavement. Freida flew onto the neighbor’s grass where I scooped her up then headed back to the mimosa tree, undaunted by Christopher’s orneriness. Ashley, on the other hand, took offense at his orneriness..

Christopher slowly got up from the pavement, “Fine I didn’t want to play with you anyway.” I noticed he looked a little sad, but I didn’t care to ask him about why he would be sad when he was he one that started being mean.

“We don’t want you!” Ashley called. Christopher walked away by himself with his head hung.

I gathered up my things to go inside. Something about Christopher’s behavior made me feel I had done something wrong.

Feeling badly about making Christopher sad I went inside to ask mom. Ashley followed me in confused as to why I was sad.