“Live everyday like Elle Woods after Warner told her she wasn’t smart enough for Law School,”  the pink poster above my bed says.  In the past few years, I have developed a slight obsession with Legally Blonde.  Yes, the movie about a girl who drops her life in California to go to law school, where she wins her first huge murder trial as a first-year law student.  I can recite the movie just about word-for-word.  The background on my phone is a screenshot from the movie.  My mornings tend to begin with the song “Watch me Shine” from the movie’s soundtrack, while manifesting the scene where Elle reads her textbook and studies while walking on the treadmill.

​

To fully understand my deep-rooted love, let me take you back to eighth grade.  Fourteen-year-old Emma is walking through the cold, beige hallways of Queensbury Middle School, which are just starting to warm up at the beginning of May.  Enter: the same insufferable middle school boy that had been tormenting me for months.  The boy walks up to me, shouts the made-up word “Feminazi,” and walks away, laughing as I stand there, confused.  

​

“Why was it such a big deal to someone that I’m passionate about women’s rights?  Am I wrong for expressing my opinions?  Who else might think it’s weird for me to think this way?” My mind raced in that moment and for months afterward.  This was the first time I had ever been teased for my beliefs.  

​

Ironically, if I wasn’t being labeled the “Feminazi,” I was being labeled as “the quiet one.”  Throughout eighth and ninth grade, I would deny the accusation of being a feminist if ever asked about it.  Although on the inside I was proud of my beliefs, on the outside I would nervously look away from any confrontation that might be ahead.  I became quiet when it came to anything I could be wrong about.  In my classes, my peers would often overlook me because I didn’t raise my hand or share my opinions.

​

The one plus that came out of my quiet phase was that it helped me notice things that other people overlooked.  I noticed that it was common for the boys in my classes to participate, while the girls tended to hold back in the discussion.  I noticed that jokes about how girls should “stay in the kitchen” were considered funny, rather than overused and blatantly sexist.  I was nauseous at the thought of these things, but what could I do about it without re-obtaining my “Feminazi” label?

Towards the end of sophomore year, I watched Legally Blonde for the first time.  I saw Elle Woods, a woman who was underestimated for what she could do, who was labeled as “a Marilyn” as opposed to “a Jackie.”  A woman who went against the stereotypes she was given to prove everyone who doubted her abilities wrong.  

​

Suddenly, I didn’t want to be labeled as the quiet one.  I wanted to stop caring about the labels I was given and instead use them to motivate me.  Instead of shying away from debates in class, people started to say: “Let her take the lead, she’s the feminist.”  I’m not sure if they meant that in a positive or negative light, but I took it as a compliment. I didn’t care if people continued to call me the “Feminazi” behind my back.  I was finally standing up for what I believed in.

​

Elle Woods, the Reese Witherspoon character from the 2000s chick-flick, ignited the spark behind my voice.  I was no longer afraid of being a feminist.  I was proud of my passion for human rights and wasn’t going to let the opinions of a few misogynistic kids stop me from changing the world.  If that boy were to make fun of me now, I would simply smile and say: “Yeah, and?”