You were watching a cartoon yesterday, some innocuous thing, and a character flicked her wand. Sparks shot from the end and she changed the world around her. I was folding clothes when you asked what it was.
“Magic,” I said and you inched closer to the TV.
“Girls are magic,” you whispered and I caught my breath.
I watched you, with your clunky two-year-old movements—hypnotized. The way you pointed your finger and flicked your wrist. Girls are Magic.
I’m so bothered with what I see in magazines, on social media, and on TV. I think about the girls I coached and what I should have told them. What I should’ve known they’d need to hear. And I don’t want to make the same mistake with you.
Girls aren’t lunch tables or Instagram likes. They aren’t duck-face-selfies or partially clothed Snapchats. Girls are princesses, and queens, and warriors. Girls are Magic.
Girls aren’t objects, or a coat hangers, or something to be had. Girls are healers, decision-makers, and scientists. They are mothers, and sisters, and best friends. Girls are Magic.
Girls are not thigh gaps or a lack there of. Girls are not a pretty face or only meant to be held. Girls can give life and they can change it. They can listen to the world and they can heal it. They are deep thinkers and problem solvers. Girls are Magic.
Girls aren’t defined by a spouse, or a boyfriend, or a boss, or bully. They can’t be summed up in 140 characters or less. Girls are talent, and brains, and souls. Girls are Magic.
Girls are not whores, or sluts, or bitches. Girls are beautiful, and smart, and powerful. Their spirits’ shine and their hearts are good. Girls are Magic.
Girls aren’t tools, or pawns, and they can’t be won. Their thoughts are important and the words they choose are, too. Girls are Magic.
Girls aren’t worthless or insignificant. They don’t have to be quiet or loud. They are made from the essence of lightning and the particles of stars. Girls are Magic.
Just because the world sells sex doesn’t mean you have to. You may not find many women to admire in magazines or on TV, but you can find them in books. In history and in fiction. On Capital Hill and on the battlefield. In business meetings, in operating rooms and in art galleries. Behind computers and pushing strollers. The world can try to hide them, but they are here, and they are Magic.
So, don’t get lost out there. This is what real women look like, in normal lighting, with no make up and no filters. Real women who have founded non-profits and treated children with cancer. Real women who work for multinational corporations and real women who write books. Real women who are moms and real women who support and love each other. They are as beautiful as they believe themselves to be. They are best friends. And they are Magic.
When I tucked you in tonight, I shook out your blanket. In the dry air, the static builds and it sparked. You grabbed my hand, startled, and I smiled.
“It’s just a spark. Electricity,” I said.
Your tiny voice answered me from the darkness. “It’s magic, Momma.”
I leaned I close and pressed my lips into your hair. I whispered something I knew in elementary school, but forgot when I needed it most. Something I knew once, and had only recently realized again. A prophecy, a call to action, and a truth.
“Never be afraid of what you can do, little one. You are lighting. You are stars. You are Magic.”
I shut the door to your room and I wiped away the tears that come with being a mother. I know you will be be loved. I know you will be strong. I know you will be great.
How do I know?
Because I’m magic, and so are you.
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