More than Loud: What Running for Vice-President taught me about Feminism in High School

Walking up to the podium, I thought my biggest adversary was the mic itself. In the last two years I had given countless speeches standing on that same stage, holding that same unforgiving black instrument, and every single time, no matter how much I prepared nor how calm and collected I trained myself to be – my hands quivered around the microphone. And it was the only thing anyone could remember from that talk.

But this time, it would be different. I had trained for this every night for two weeks. Holding a coke bottle full of sand (for density) as I echoed the last words of my speech facing my reflection in the balcony window for the umpteenth time. I was ready. No microphone, no odd stare, nor any ounce of self-doubt could faze me.

However, as life would have it, I soon found out that speaking in front of six hundred fidgeting students was the easy part. You see, that day, no matter how eloquently those words streamed out of my mouth, no matter how persuasive or sincere I was, those words would always be muffled in the ears of those who had long since painted me red. While some saw me as I ought to have been seen – a candidate vying for the position of VP of the student council, others coloured me in as an overly emotional female above all else. Someone who spoke “too loud” and was “too much”. All the qualities that had made me me, were the reasons they weren’t voting for me. And that’s alright! Everyone has the right to their beliefs and I can’t possibly expect to tick right with everyone. But even telling myself that over and over again as I paced the lengths of the school corridor didn’t stop me from questioning whether things would be different if I was a boy?

Would I be called loud or would I be venerated as passionate? Would I be called bossy or revered as an assertive leader? Would I be considered strung-up and high-maintenance or commended as someone with their principles straight and their head up high?

I think we both know the answer to that.

Running for VP, if nothing else, introduced me to the misogyny suppressed within the walls of our school. Not in every corner, but hidden between the cracks in the wearing plaster. And in these walls, loud girls like myself are afraid to speak up and risk being unliked. No boy was ever called too loud or too bossy for standing up and speaking out. Girls can’t say the same. We have to work twice as hard to be recognised than a boy who does half as much. And I wish I didn’t have to say that – in fact, for the longest time I held myself back from it. But sitting here, typing and un-typing these words in fear of saying something “wrong” and coming off misconstrued, I can say from experience – girls aren’t put on the same footing as boys. We are not seen the same, we are not treated the same, even when we desperately need to be.

I’m not writing this because I’m anti-male. After all, I know boys have their fair share of problems too. I’m writing this because I see and I understand something I had never fully understood before, and I understand it more and more as I grow up – people treat you differently based on your gender.

Society has this perception of what a girl and a boy is supposed to be. Society likes girls who speak softly. Society likes boys who take the lead. And although we keep fighting to end these archetypes, sometimes without knowing it, we feed into this toxic narrative. It can be as simple as calling a girl “too loud”. Trust me, I’ve been called too loud too many times to count. At some point it stops you from doing the things you love; sometimes it brings you to a crossroad where you are too afraid to be yourself. In vain, I’ve tried to be less loud, I’ve tried to talk less in an effort to make more people like me – but that wasn’t the person so many people were still voting for. And it sure wasn’t me.

It’s been six whole days since I’ve become my school’s vice-captain. And I can say with certainty that I didn’t win because I was a girl. I didn’t win because I was too loud. I can only guess that I won because people liked what I said and they believed in me. And I hope that’s how any of us will ever win. That it will never be about electing a boy or a girl, but rather electing someone competent.

Looking back, I see the faults within our system. No matter what, it’s true – girls do shy away from leadership positions in fear of being disliked or thinking it’s not their place. In the same way, boys attribute themselves with failure when not being able to reach the same peaks as girls. The problem goes both ways. No matter what gender you are, you should never feel limited by what you are expected to be. So what if you’re a loud girl? What if you’re a boy who lets the girl take the lead? What if you are none of those things? Then there’s nothing wrong with that. There is no one-size-fits-all for what a person should be. A soft-spoken girl is still every bit capable of being a leader. I don’t blame society, I don’t blame my school, I don’t even blame the people calling me too loud and assuming I’m bossy. Because after all, we’re still just kids, we don’t know any better. All we can do is strive to be better people. To educate ourselves when we see a problem. And sometimes the best way to do that is not to point the finger at someone or something else, but rather, point the finger to yourself and ask “How can I make the world a fairer place?”

My goal now more than ever is to empower girls and boys to assume leadership positions despite society’s perceptions against them. It’s to help create a society that doesn’t go by gender, but rather, merit. Because I know, how hard it is to feel like something is way out of your reach because of things that you can’t control. And I’d hate gender to be that for any more girls or boys out there.