I remember standing on the field at elementary school recess, listening to my friend Sophie voice her scathing opinions of other girls in our class. 

“Ava is such a girly girl,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

She paused, looking me up and down. 

“Well, I guess you are too. You wear dresses, like, every single day.” 

I was taken aback by the disgust in her voice at the term “girly girl”. I looked down at the dress I was wearing, with its soft pink color and green patterns. I touched the ruffled fabric that had once brought me comfort. I decided I hated this dress. I didn’t know exactly why Sophie sounded so offended by the concept of “girly” clothing, but in that moment I knew I could not bear to be classified as a “girly girl.” I decided I wasn’t a girly girl. I played soccer and liked sports, I was competitive, and I loved being outside. I was so different from a girly girl. I wanted to be a tomboy. 

Sophie’s insult followed me around for the entire school day. I couldn’t focus in class. I found myself near the verge of tears. Being labeled as a girly girl made me feel like the entire fourth grade class saw me as inferior. I knew I wasn’t that girl. When I arrived home, the tears escaped. I ran to my bedroom and cried to my mother that my dresses were too girly. She told me not to take it to heart, and that certain classmates would always make judgmental comments. She said it didn’t mean I needed to change myself or the way I dress. I insisted that we go to the mall and buy numerous pairs of jeans and T-shirts. Picture day was approaching, and I didn’t want to wear a girly dress to another picture day. I didn’t want to ever wear a dress to school again. 

We returned from the mall and performed a complete reconstruction of my wardrobe. The pink dresses were hastily replaced by blue jeans and green T-shirts. The frilly layered skirts were shoved to the back of the closet. After I was satisfied with my urgent closet transformation, I opened my floral purple journal and began to scribble seemingly valid reasons why I wasn’t girly. I mean, my least favorite color is probably pink, and I don’t wear dresses anymore. 

It took years for me to feel confident wearing a dress. In high school, I scrolled through Pinterest and saw countless photos of women wearing stunning dresses. I asked myself why I was preventing myself from wearing these unique and beautiful pieces of clothing. I began to reintroduce dresses into my closet. Instead of feeling restricted or uncomfortable wearing a dress, I felt a sense of freedom. I felt like myself, just as much as I felt like myself in pants and a T-shirt. 

Each day, I wake up with a desire to express myself through my clothing. Whether it is a blazer and dress pants or a lacy pink dress, I feel confident and strong in my clothing. Femininity isn’t weakness. Appearing girly and wearing feminine silhouettes doesn’t make me any less strong. Fashion is deeply intertwined with self-discovery and individual experimentation. Fashion is absent from rules and regulations, and is meant to be a joyful form of self-expression for everyone. Everybody deserves to wear feminine and masculine silhouettes, shamelessly. I enjoy blending these concepts by combining a blazer with a floral top under it, or by adding a bow to an outfit to incorporate a feminine touch. It is inspiring to see women wearing both dresses and suits, and men experimenting with jewelry and feminine silhouettes. Throughout the past few years, some male celebrities such as Billy Porter and Harry Styles have chosen to publicly wear dresses. Although many took this as a statement on gender norms, it highlights that everybody has freedom in fashion. Fashion should never be a place of restriction or judgment, but an open door to exploration and confidence. If someone called me a “girly girl” today, I would thank them for the compliment.