If only I shrink myself, just for a day, I too can be famous someday.

Femininity is a cult. And we’re all playing into the game.

Back when this newsletter was merely an idea, I emailed a questionnaire to a network of people, asking them about any secrets they were willing to share, anonymously. One person responded with:

“I often make myself small or self-sabotage in order to stay stuck at one level in my life. I have guilt over wanting a big life and material success. I feel like I’m afraid of holding back on living a bigger life.”

I’ve made myself small, too. I’ve shrunk my bones down to pencils. I’ve flattened myself like wallpaper. Why? All in the sake of the glory that be: femininity.

It was snowing in October, a complete bummer for those scoping the party scene. I however took the snow as a gift from above; the more people stayed at home, the less the bouncers would expect a crowd. And lax bouncers were good news for 15-year-olds looking to go out in New York City.

If 15-year-old me were a planet, she’d be Jupiter. When I went out with a crowd, I hung around the periphery. And this night was no different. I laughed at jokes that were told and smiled until my lips felt like they might fall straight off of my face.

But for any Jupiter, there comes a point in the evening that is dreaded from the beginning. I call it: the pairing. 

Your sun finds a moon. Your Mercury starts orbiting another Venus. And your Mars charges towards an entirely different solar system. Suddenly, young Jupiter, you are alone. 

The problem being Jupiter is not only that you’re gassy (a joke for my astronomers) it’s that your magnetic field is so strong, you attract entire solar systems. You’re so enormous, planets can’t help but gravitate towards you. But, young Jupiter, you’re not ready to be orbited around. The reason you chose to be Jupiter in the first place is to orbit others, not the other way around.

It didn’t take long after the pairing commenced for my circle to be filled.

“You don’t look like a football fan.” A man (read: a space rock) drifted towards me. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been staring at the lone television behind the bar airing Saturday Night Football. He sized me up correctly. I’m not a football fan. I am 6’1” in case any of y’all are looking to start a b-ball team.

Kidding. Coach, I beg you: do not pick me. I promise my height will prove useless on the court.

Part of me was relieved that he struck up conversation. I wasn’t aware that I was watching a play on 2nd down and 10, but I was aware that I was alone. And somehow, somewhere along the way, I had internalized that being alone was not okay.

Suddenly my body contorted itself as it turned towards him. I leaned into one hip to shrink my stature. I sucked in my stomach. I lowered my eyes.

Suddenly smaller. It happened automatically.

“I’m not. Just a bit bored.” Lie. I wasn’t bored. I was a robot attempting to click into the proper program for clubbing 101.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this place not up to your standards?” he scoffed back.

“Hardly.” Lie. I had no standards. 

He smiled. Looked around. “You know what? You’re right.”

I leaned in, making sure to keep my eye line below his. “I know I’m right.” I didn’t. I was lying straight through my teeth.

My body became microscopic but my attitude became colossal. I used this combination for years after grasping its powers that night. Until I realized I was a card-carrying member of the cult of modern femininity.

What gets me with femininity is that nowadays, femininity is shrouded by equality. And equality in flirtation often equates to a woman who teases and talks back. A woman who doesn’t wait for the car door to be opened, she opens it herself, and makes a joke along the way. And we think that if she has a big mouth that we’re no longer operating from two different points on the scale. But modern femininity still dictates that we cower. Somehow, somewhere along the way, we’ve been seduced into laughing often, tossing our head back, and sinking slightly into one hip to nick off a few inches. But telling people off while we do it.

How did we get so sucked in? We got seduced by what femininity promised: fame, fortune, and followers. Our brains are so quick. The second we saw someone flaunt femininity and reap rewards, that information got stored. Then it happened again. And again. And again. So a pathway was formed. Right there in our brains. “If only I shrink myself, just for a day, I too can be famous someday.”