At four years old, I was told that I wasn't allowed to wear nail polish that wasn't pink. Red was too mature, blue was too radical, yellow was too weird. "But why, mommy? I like red." At nine years old, I was ridiculed for wanting to cut my irrationally long hair a few inches shorter. "A trim is fine, daddy will be mad otherwise." At twelve years old, I was reprimanded for speaking with too deep a voice for my family to tolerate. "But I just got a palette expander and braces, what am I supposed to do?" At fifteen years old, I was belittled when I claimed myself as a feminist. "Don't say that, angel, it comes with a negative connotation." I am and have always been feminine and strong. I wear red nail polish and do what I will with my hair. I speak how I choose, and I proudly call myself a woman for other women.