Childhood: A Guest Post by Christina Wyman
Middle school is hard enough without being six feet tall. Between basketball, debate and living in the (gigantic) shadow of her big brother, Stevie just wants to make it through seventh grade. Author Christina Wyman has penned an exclusive essay for us on the inspiration for her brand-new book Slouch and what she hopes young girls take away from reading it. Here’s Christina, in her own words.
Paperback $9.99
Slouch
Slouch
In Stock Online
Paperback $9.99
Middle school drama is amplified when you’re almost six feet tall, which isn’t great news for Stevie… or so she thought. Turns out being pushed out of her comfort zone forces her to find herself, too.
Middle school drama is amplified when you’re almost six feet tall, which isn’t great news for Stevie… or so she thought. Turns out being pushed out of her comfort zone forces her to find herself, too.
I think that SLOUCH represents what I remember most about childhood as a young girl growing up in Brooklyn, New York, and my shift from being a little kid to becoming a teenager.
Like Stevie Crumb, the main character in this book, I was always very tall for my age, and—as a result—often looked a lot older than I actually was. I don’t remember a time when I was not the tallest girl in my classes and placed at the back of the line when my teachers asked us to line up in “size order.” In junior high school, my height was the butt of more jokes—and more abuse—than I can possibly recount. My pants never came down to my ankles until my mother started shopping for me in the women’s section of clothing stores (and even then, the fit was iffy). My height, and other aspects of my physical appearance, always rendered me out of place with my peers—a situation that would not rectify until I began high school and was surrounded by kids who were a lot older (and taller) than I was.
For me, turning twelve also marked a time when I realized that men—grown men, strange men—were noticing me in public spaces. It all began with how men used their car horns to get my attention. Having a horn blare at you when you’re alone outside and minding your own business is startling. But when you’re young, it can also be scary and jarring. I speak from experience when I say that the consequences of daring to exist in public as a young girl are not location-dependent, and they do not discriminate: Women and girls are targets for unwanted male attention wherever they happen to be, whether it’s a city, suburb, or rural town.
I have a lot of key memories that inspired the scenes in SLOUCH. Many of them involve unwanted attention paid to my body by strangers and family alike. Sadly, I – like all girls and women – are taught from a young age that navigating a world in which women are scrutinized, targeted, and invalidated is normal and to be expected. I was far into adulthood before learning that this reality actually is not normal. And far from normal, it’s a dangerous precedent to set for all of our children.
I wrote Slouch because, while I do believe that times are changing for girls and women alike, I do not believe that they’re changing fast enough. I am sad to know that many young girls will find certain scenes in this book all too familiar. But it’s also rewarding to imagine that SLOUCH might validate my readers and their experiences in a very specific way: As a young girl, I never received the message that I was entitled to exist in a world unencumbered by other people’s unsolicited attention to, and opinions about, my body. If anything, I was told to get used to it. Well, I never got used to it, and girls should not be made to believe that this type of behavior is normal. For my young readers, whoever you happen to be: You do not, under any circumstances, have to “get used to it.” Unwanted attention is never a compliment, and it’s never okay. I hope that SLOUCH delivers this exact message to all young readers. And whenever a young girl experiences unwanted attention that she doesn’t quite know how to make sense of, I hope that SLOUCH offers a sense of validation.
