What Makes Us Girls

by Brittany Pettibone

  For all the girls who love me, even when I don’t deserve it. For my grandmother, Yolonda. For my mother, Sabrina. For my twin, Nicole. For my sisters, Natasha, Isabella and Hannah. For my friends: Juliette, Lauren, Rebecca, Melissa, Annika and Ariane. For my cousins: Anne Marie, Mary and Brisa.

  Author's Note

  There are many topics I initially wanted to explore in this book such as female friendships, equality, femininity versus masculinity, the struggles of modern dating, professional careers, marriage and children, and so on. But after writing the first chapter, I came to understand that these topics can’t be adequately explored without first exploring one of the major problems that all girls, myself included, struggle with: self-worth. So, I’ve decided to dedicate the entire book to this topic.

  While I will include references to all the other topics listed, I will wait to explore them fully in another book. That said, please be aware that this book is not intended to be an argument packed with facts and statistics; it’s largely anecdotal, using advice and stories from my own life experience and the life experiences of girls I know as a way to be encouraging. Lastly, most of the stories in this book are true, but I have changed names, relations, dates and even genders for the purpose of protecting privacy.

  1

  “We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”

  —William Shakespeare

  Dear Girls…

  I didn’t want to write this book. In fact, the last thing in the world I ever thought I’d be doing was writing such a book.

  During my teenage years, I had very few female friends. I believed myself to have a mind more similar to the boys, and as a result, convinced myself that I would never be able to connect with girls. Ridiculous, I know. It goes without saying that this was a flawed state of mind, but it was born out of a desire to be regarded as “one of the guys,” or as somehow more unique and special than other girls.

  While it’s true that some girls may understand or even appreciate the male mind better than others, as a whole, there is no comparison. Boys and girls are worlds apart, both mentally and physically; it was only until after I accepted this reality that I was able to see girls for the wonders that they are, or that they have the potential to be. I started to develop female friendships—not the superficial kind where girls meetup simply to gossip, but the sincere kind. The kind where competition is innocent and healthy, and where girls act for one another as confidants, advisors, supporters and companions.

  Considering all the female friendships I have made, and all the girls I have come to love, is what convinced me to sit down and write this book. Not because I want to write it, but because I must write it. My intention isn’t to prove nor is it to judge. My intention is simply to encourage. Perhaps you could describe this book as a love letter to all the girls I know and do not know who are experiencing the struggles of womanhood which are commonly felt but rarely discussed.

  Self-Worth: The Ultimate Struggle

  Do you love yourself?

  If now, or at any point in your past, you would’ve answered “no” to this question, then you and I have something in common.

  During my teenage years, and even at certain periods during my early twenties, I also would’ve answered “no.” Like many other girls, I was battling an extreme lack of self-worth that blossomed within me like a bouquet of razors. Few of my relationships—both friendships and romances—were long-lasting, and even worse, few were sincere. But how could my relationships have been long-lasting and sincere? A person cannot give what they do not have. And since I didn’t love myself, I had no love to give to others. Of course, this doesn’t mean I never had the desire. I often did wish to give love, but whenever I tried, it was the equivalent of offering my bouquet of razors. Every attempt ended in a wound.

  Lack of self-worth can stem from many things. Among the most common are: negative comparison, rejection, bullying, inauthenticity, purposelessness, betrayal and guilt. Obviously, any number of other issues can activate a lack of self-worth, but since the issues listed above are ones that I, and many other girls I know, have personally experienced, I will only touch upon them.

  Before I begin, though, I think it’s important to clarify that experiencing periods in our lives when we struggle to love ourselves is perfectly normal. Facing a lack of self-worth doesn’t make us outcasts; on the contrary, it probably makes us more relatable. At one point or another, almost every girl in the entire world—no matter our age or the country we are from—will have to fight the same battle. Some of us will win and some of us will lose. But those of us who win will do so for two reasons: because we are able to see the battle for what it is, and even more importantly, because we have the right weapons to fight it.

  2

  “Comparison is the death of joy.”

  —Mark Twain

  When You Think You’re Not Good Enough

  When I was younger, I used to paint from life—portraits mostly. Oftentimes, painting proved frustrating because no matter how long and carefully I worked, I could never precisely capture the likeness of my model. All of my finished paintings seemed lacking in comparison. Over time, I learned that “precise replication” should never be one’s goal—not in art or in any other creative endeavor. Artists should strive to bring their own personal touch to their craft. Only in doing so can they provide a unique and personal vision of the world. As you may have guessed, this oppressive comparison didn’t improve my painting. Quite the opposite, it hindered my progress.

  Inadequacy, or the feeling of not being good enough, generally originates when we negatively compare ourselves to others, or worse, when we hear others negatively compare us.

  Comparing ourselves to others is oftentimes unavoidable. One reason for this is because comparison is a natural means of measurement; it is a method by which we come to realize the quantity or value or nature of a thing. But problems arise when this comparison is either inaccurate or just plain false.

  At one point or another, we have all compared ourselves to siblings, to friends or even to strangers, and most likely concluded that this or that person is better than us in some way. Perhaps we believe they are more intelligent. More humorous. More charismatic. More beautiful. More successful. In drawing such harsh and critical conclusions about ourselves, there is only one outcome: inner discontent.

  The discontent might start small, in the form of harmless insecurities, but if we don’t immediately make an effort to master these insecurities, eventually they will grow. They will become more and more difficult to control with each passing day, until eventually, we surrender the dominant role to our insecurities. We might even start walking down the dark and lonely road of self-hatred.

  For the past two years, I’ve been a political YouTuber. Due to the fact that I recently got engaged, I’ve made the decision to pull a bit back from YouTube; I want to focus primarily on becoming a wife and a mother, and to dedicate my free time to writing books. But back when I was immersed in the vast network of political commentators, activists and journalists, I often struggled with self-comparison. Most of my fellow political YouTubers made more effective and informative videos than me. Their videos were better quality, and they also got more views. On top of this, most of them were far more intelligent and articulate. For a time, the reality that I would never be as good as them was difficult to accept. I pushed myself to absurd limits, forgoing my physical and mental health in the process. I worked so hard that I rarely slept; as the months wore on, my appearance turned hollow and sunken. I lost an unhealthy amount of weight because I didn’t give myself sufficient breaks to eat. Worst of all, I had no time to spend with my family and friends, and my relationships suffered as a result.

  Obviousl
y, I wasn’t happy. The only moments I felt a glimmer of satisfaction were when I made a great video that hundreds of thousands of people found useful, but this satisfaction faded after a day or so. And it would completely die the moment I posted another video that wasn’t received well. It was a vicious cycle, like always drinking from a cup that was half-empty.

  I’m sure most of you can already identify the problem with my mindset here because let’s face it: at times, the most obvious solutions to problems can be the most difficult for us to recognize. Had I simply accepted from the beginning that I would never be as good as the other political YouTubers, had I simply been content with trying my best, I would’ve saved myself and those closest to me a lot of pain.

  There is a common structure step in every good book called “the attack by ally,” when the allies of the main character notice something that the main character is doing wrong and point it out—not to judge or criticize, but because they care about the main character and want to help. In a way, this is exactly what happened to me. My mother, who had all the while been keeping a close eye on me, eventually decided that enough was enough. She told me, in a loving way of course, that I’d stopped treating myself and others as well as I once did. She told me that my YouTube content wasn’t as good as it had been in the beginning because it was less from the heart. She even told me I looked physically unhealthy, that I’d lost my spark.

  I’ll admit that I didn’t react well initially. My transition was long and difficult. What helped was telling myself that even if my contributions were only shadows in comparison to what my fellow political YouTubers were contributing, at least I was doing something. I was giving all that I could to the best of my ability. Something else that helped was realizing that I should never have treated my fellow political YouTubers as competitors in the first place. At the end of the day, we were all a team.

  Should we ever allow our insecurities to take control, as I did, they will be a source of constant pain. The natural way to ease such pain is to push ourselves beyond our limits, or even to seek validation from others, which might pressure or persuade us to make choices that go against our principles—things we would never normally do if we were in a healthy state of mind. Moreover, what happens if we don’t receive the validation we’re so desperately seeking, or worse, if we get the opposite? It destroys us.

  Another danger of allowing our insecurities to take control is that, in some cases, they can convince us to give up on ourselves. Every task we attempt will be tortured by an inner voice telling us that we’re inadequate, that we’ll never be as good as those we’ve been comparing ourselves to. Our sense of motivation will become paralyzed and collapse. We may even stop trying altogether. And if we don’t try, we will never progress. We will never achieve the remarkable things that we might’ve achieved had we learned to master our insecurities.

  There have been plenty of times when I felt that I’d reached my limit, that I was incapable of fighting anymore. I sought refuge in places where the world couldn’t see or judge me. But the one thing I could never succeed in shutting out was the knowledge that if I gave up on myself, I was finished. Nobody would be able to save me. People can help us, yes, but only to an extent. And before others can help us, we have to help ourselves. Of course, it’s normal and understandable to spend a few days trying to rebuild ourselves every now and again, but eventually, we have to stand back up.

  When it comes to mastering feelings of inadequacy, I’ve often found it helpful to consider the fact that nearly every meaningful achievement requires work: developing a skill, raising a family, making a marriage work, having a professional career. All are difficult roads to meaningful destinations.

  Each human being has unique qualities, even if these qualities are small. It’s why we use the term “irreplaceable.” Because the person who we consider irreplaceable has qualities that nobody could ever perfectly replicate.

  What are your own unique qualities? What qualities do you have that the person you’ve been comparing yourself to doesn’t have? Perhaps you have special physical attributes or a method of treating people that makes them feel appreciated in a way that no one else can.

  Also, what are your strong suits? Perhaps you’re not too attractive, but you’re intelligent and caring. Or vice versa: Perhaps you have the beauty, but not the brains or the kindness.

  For every single one of us, unique qualities and strong suits are the foundation upon which we must build. But it’s best if we do so slowly. Trying to do too much too fast will almost always result in our becoming overwhelmed and perhaps even quitting. Instead, we must take it one day at a time, one step at a time. Our most useful ally along the way will always be focus. If we’re able to keep a strong focus, we’ll be less inclined to continue comparing ourselves to others, for we will only have a mind for the goals that lie ahead. We will also have much more time, energy and motivation to complete these goals.

  When Others Think You’re Not Good Enough

  If you thought to yourself, that girl is smarter than me, or if somebody else said to you, “that girl is smarter than you,” which remark would hurt you more? Most girls, myself included, would choose the second remark. The reason for this is because the comparison is not a personal conclusion, one that can be overcome through hard work or validation. It’s an external perspective, oftentimes irreversible, and completely outside our control.

  During my childhood, people often negatively compared me to my sisters. I was told my sisters were more beautiful than me, that they had a better sense of style, and that they had more talent when it came to singing, drawing and writing, and so on. When I joined political YouTube, the comparisons kicked into overdrive. Thousands of people were regularly commenting on my videos, and among these comments, negative comparisons always popped up. Your twin sister is much more beautiful and feminine than you, some would write. Others compared me to fellow female political YouTubers, saying that they were prettier and more intelligent.

  Obviously, it’s natural for such comparisons to hurt. But there is a route of combat, and it starts with examining the person who made the hurtful comparison. Do we know the person? Or are they just some random stranger who we’ve never met? If this is the case, it’s natural to feel hurt, but ultimately, it would be silly to allow a stranger’s opinion to affect our overall view of ourselves. The only opinions that should carry weight are the opinions of those we love, look up to and respect.

  So, if at any point, someone who we love, look up to and respect makes a negative comparison of us, the feeling of inadequacy is completely understandable.

  Of all the times I’ve been compared to other girls, the situation I recall hurting me the most was when a couple of male friends compared me to another girl. Of course, I had no intimate or familial attachment to the young men—we were simply political acquaintances—but the comparison still hurt. We were all packed into the car, heading home from a political protest which, at several points, had escalated into violence.

  “Wow, Anna’s amazing,” the driver, a young man named Victor, commented. “Seriously, she’s like the sweetest girl ever.”

  “Who’s Anna?” I asked, only half-paying attention. Sitting in the passenger seat, my head slouched against the window, I was fighting off sleep. Odors of sweat and pepper spray saturated my clothing. My energy was depleted, far past my point of tolerance, and I wanted nothing more than to collapse into my bed. The back-to-back protests, rallies and speeches were beginning to take a toll. I questioned whether I was cut out for political activism, mainly because I often felt too weak to go on. My sole motivation for persevering stemmed from an ardent belief in our cause. I couldn’t ignore the dire state of the West, no matter how much I wanted to, no matter how high the personal cost: my life ambitions, my security and privacy, my livelihood, my reputation, and more.

  The second young man, Andrew, who was sitting in the back seat, answered, “How do you not remember Anna, Britt? She made us all dinner.”

&n
bsp; “Oh—of course. Sorry, I forgot.”

  I smiled sheepishly, feeling that I’d been rude. I’d met over a hundred people that day, and as a result, didn’t remember most names. Eventually, an image of Anna returned to my mind: layered brown hair, a caring smile and a slender frame wrapped in a blue trench coat that was frayed at the wrists. I recalled having spoken to her for a few minutes, recalling specifically that my impression of her had been nothing short of positive.

  “It was great of her to cook for us,” Victor went on. “She even made us sandwiches for the drive home.” He motioned to three neatly-wrapped sandwiches in the back seat.

  Andrew opened one of the sandwiches and took a bite. “What girl still cooks these days?” he marveled. “If Anna didn’t already have a guy, I’d call her.”

  “Lots of girls can cook.” I laughed. “I’m not so bad.”

  “Hey, it’s okay, Britt,” Victor said. “Nobody in the movement expects that of you. We know you’re not that kind of girl.”

  I hesitated. “Not what kind of girl?”

  “You know…the maternal, caring type.”

  I stopped laughing as a sharp pang struck my chest.

  Both Victor and Andrew noted my reaction and their shoulders stiffened, as if realizing they’d said something hurtful.

  “We don’t mean anything bad by it,” Andrew assured. “We just meant that you’re sort of different.”

  “You might not be as maternal as Anna,” Victor added, “but Anna’s not political and she could never do what you do. Most girls couldn’t.”

  I smiled and shrugged off the conversation, passing the remainder of the trip in silence. I wasn’t comforted by their words, mainly because they were wrong. I couldcook. I’d learned from one of the best cooks in the world: my mother. The reason I hadn’t helped Anna make dinner was because, after spending the entire day in a riot, I was tired and distracted. Not to mention, my friends hadn’t known me long. We’d never been in a situation where I could cook for them. Plus, I would have preferred to be in the kitchen cooking rather than risking my life to give a speech or film a YouTube video.