When I was in preschool I had a crush on a boy in my class. So did my friend. We would wear dresses everyday and sit on each side of him during our free time. I used to feel so pretty in those dresses. That was the first time I was taught that when I looked good it was for a boy.

In First Grade one of the boys in my class had a swimming party. I was invited. I lost my balance and fell into the deep end. Almost instantly one of the boys my same age jumped in to save me. We took swimming lessons together the previous year. That was the first time I was taught that boys are here to protect girls.

When I got to junior high, they started enforcing a “dress code” and had to make sure I was never wearing something I could get sent to the principal for wearing. That same year -my sixth grade- I wore a pair of jeans with holes, because that was in fashion. My teacher immediately sent me to the nurse and I had to wait in their office until my mom came with new pants. When I asked why this was a rule, I was told it was a “distraction.” That was the first time I was told that I had to dress in a way that accommodated to boys.

When I graduated Eighth Grade, I got a white dress with roses on it and thick spaghetti straps. I walked into the school without my robe on and girls started flooding towards me. They told me I better put my robe on right away because Mr. Warner was right there, and if he saw me in that dress he might not let me go in for the ceremony. I felt so pretty in that dress and so ugly in that robe. That was the first time I was taught that it was better to feel poorly about myself and not upset boys than to empowered wearing something that wasn’t “appropriate.”

When I got to high school, I started hearing catcalls when I walked by. When I would turn around to say something, the boys would already have moved on to another girl. That was the first time I thought that I was overreacting to the way a boy was treating me.

My freshman year I made a lot of new friends. One of them had an older boyfriend and told me about how they had sex. When she walked away, the other girls in our group started talking about how much of a whore she must have been. They didn't mention the boyfriend. That was the first time I was taught that when girls have sex they're slutty, but when guys do they're “just being boys.”

That same year I got asked to homecoming by a junior, and of course I said yes. I had on a pretty dress and got my hair professionally done. When we got there, we made our way to the middle of the gym. Almost instantly, my date tried grabbing my hips to have me grind on him. I said I had to use the restroom and cried. When I came out, him and his friend were talking about me to other guys. I asked to go home early and he never spoke to me again. That was the first time I felt like if I didn't do what a boy expected me to, I would be looked down upon.

Sophomore year I went to homecoming alone. I found a cute boy and danced with him for a few songs. The next day, someone said they heard him talking about me and how easy I was. That was the first time I was told that doing what a guy wants you to will also lead to rumors and sideways looks.

Junior year I became good friends with a girl I had known but never really talked to. She told me a story about a boy who she spent the night with but didn't want to do anything with. He woke her up and started touching her, and when she asked him to stop, he said she was wet so he kept going. She didn't stop him and said that she doesn't consider it rape because she could've fought harder. That was the first time I was told that in order to be raped, I had to be held down. That it was more than saying no.

Junior year I had a cute date to vice versa. I danced with him. The next day, someone came up to me asking if I was doing okay. There was lots of talk about my dancing and how I composed myself at the dance. Most of the talk was from girls. That was the first time I was taught that even when other girls are in the same spot as me, they will still choose to belittle a woman's right to be sexual because of the morals we have been taught.

The other day, I was at Grandview relaxing when a car honked at me. I jumped at first but assumed they weren't honking at me. I had my window down because it was a nice day. The car started to circle my car and the passengers rolled down their windows. I started hearing horrible things getting called, asking if I wanted to do this, or if I had ever been with a guy who did that. I rolled my window up but they persisted. It took grabbing my phone and dialing 911 for them to go away. That was the first time I felt afraid because I was a girl.

When I was a little girl, I would wear the prettiest dresses. They made me feel so beautiful. Now I wear jeans without holes and long sleeved shirts that cover my stomach. When I wear makeup, I get asked who I look all “pretty” for, and when I wear dresses, my dad tells me I can't go out unless I cover up.

I've never been told that boys shouldn't be distracted by my shoulders, that I can look pretty for myself. No one ever told me that I could save a boy if he was in danger or that I could talk back to catcalls. I was never taught that girls are allowed to have sex just like boys without being sluts, or that boys shouldn't do anything to you unless they know you are comfortable with it. I was taught how to be defensive against boys, but boys were never taught how to treat me like a human being.

I am not allowed to show my shoulder or thigh or chest or stomach. I am not allowed to be aware of myself or wear clothes that make me feel good, if those clothes in turn make a boy feel uncomfortable. I am not allowed to be anything but a girl.