enCouragingBliss: Homage to Twelve

It was at the age of twelve that I began the process of taking my creative self and hiding her away...

There is much made of recent studies that show that girls around twelve years old start to ignore and do poorly in the subjects of math and science, but I think perhaps there is something deeper and darker going on that has little to do with specific educational subjects and more to do with Self and Identity.

At this age, of course, girls go through a biologically predetermined Rite of Passage. We are lucky. Many men complain of a lack of Rites of Passage* in contemporary culture, but we have no choice.

(*I have spoken to many men and read a lot about this; they do not see their version of puberty as powerful like ours. They feel there is no real external validation of their change from boy to man.)

At a certain age, girls change -- fundamentally.

And the way the world treats us and perceives us changes too, and then, perhaps most destructive of all, we change how we treat and perceive ourselves.

We start wearing masks and trying to blend in by not being too much, too loud, too pretty, too ugly, too fat, too thin, too smart, too creative, too different.

No "too" allowed.

Who were you before this moment happened? Are you lucky enough to still resemble that more essential self, or are you like the majority of us...still trying to find your way back?

Before the age of twelve, I sang and danced and drew and painted and wrote and created and twirled.

My life was not easy. It was often loud and scary, but I still had a strong sense that that had nothing to do with me. That I was my own person. That I had other things to do besides participate in my parents' continuous dramas. That I would be okay because I had all these things.

At the age of twelve, something clicked and none of those things seemed like anything I could share anymore.

I started dancing and singing only in my attic-like space next to the bedroom. I moved all of my art supplies in there. I rarely brought any of this out of that space.

I became my own Madwoman in the Attic. (A literary link for those of you interested in theory.)

This was a coping mechanism. As it was and is for most girls. We are protecting the most tender parts of ourselves.

The problem is that, over time and even as we leave dangerous places, we stay in those attics and we slowly die from a lack of sunlight and fresh air.

Of course, this is where all the talk of Eccentricity Revolutions for Wild Women comes in on Blisschick.

About two days ago, I got an email referring to the poster contest. It was from a reader named Jennifer, who knew it was not a Wild Woman Manifesto poster, per say, but that it was something she needed to share.

It was about her own struggle.

And it happened to be about herself at twelve. This was something I'd been thinking about before that email, so I knew that if I was thinking about it and getting an email about it, that it must somehow be in the air right now.

Here is the piece of art Jennifer had made and shared with me and below it is some of her email, which she very generously is letting me reprint.


This is a page from my "journal of self-discovery," based on an article I saw in Cloth, Paper, Scissors magazine a few months ago.

I've used a photo of myself at, what I consider to be, my most perfect---12 years old.

This scan is of a simple page, but one of my favorites. It depicts me as the original 12 year old, which I figure is where "it all went wrong", and where I had to start from. I had to send all the love I have to that young girl to begin to heal who I am now.

Was 12 (or some age close to that) where it all went wrong for you? How did it go wrong?

Could you create an Homage to that young girl like Jennifer did to start the healing?

Will you share her with us? We will love her and respect her and give her what she never got.

We will be her community of Wild WomenGirls.

(Photo & Text Copyright Christine C. Reed, blisschick.net, 2009)