Twenty-two is basically the only age you can use as leverage. Meaning that because it’s the exact age between life-as-you-know-it and what will later be known as ‘real life’ (that’s scientifically proven, of course), people expect you to make some mistakes.
But if I could get in a souped-up Delorean right now I’d travel back to 1981 to see the Minutemen and Descendents open up for Black Flag at the Cuckoo’s Nest.
“Can you believe it? What a quack! I guess I should go see someone else, right? Because I clearly don’t have anxiety!” I protested to my parents while possibly breathing into a paper bag.
I appreciate my body for some of the ways it helps me out. In the summertime, I get mosquito bites on my ankles because they can’t navigate through my hairy legs. Who am I for judging a girl who enjoys a little insulation in the winter months?
A story on Yahoo! discussed how the Steubenville football team was the “pride of the community,” but what about this girl? Why can’t we have pride in her academia or her courage in coming forward with her story, in the face of insurmountable odds and a system that favors abusers? That’s the kind of strength I want to champion. This girl is a hero.