Live more whimsically: Reclaim your femininity

When I was 17 years old, I faced a crossroad in my life that I knew would result in either change or death.

I’d been dumped by my boyfriend of almost three years and was left listless and wayward in the aftermath.

I felt terribly alone and so, so melancholy in the way only a teenage girl can.

The issue was that my entire being was so entangled with his that “Scarlett” didn’t really exist as an individual anymore. My own spirit was a mystery to me.

I had no idea who I was, but in order to stay alive in the wake of such hurt and destruction, I had to learn about myself.

So, who was I? What did I like to do?

Well, I’ve always loved to read. I started frequenting my public library again, allowing myself to gravitate towards whatever books stood out to me.

I like music, especially Taylor Swift. I subscribed to Spotify Premium and allowed myself to listen to “Folklore” once through, feeling the pulsing ache before switching over to “Reputation” and dancing around in my room, knowing and yet uncaring that he would have ridiculed me for it.

I did other things to remember who I was: creating rituals, spending time with myself and approaching this emerging version of “Scarlett” with love, grace and acceptance.

I began a journey of self-discovery — a journey that I now know, as I look forward to my 20th birthday this July, saved my life.

I discovered a hack for when it seems like all hope is lost. Now, people don’t want you to know this hack, but I believe the tools already exist, simmering under the skin of every young woman. I call it reclaiming your whimsy.

People label whimsy in different ways — childlike wonder, naivety. But both these titles carry a negative connotation.

Our hypercapitalist society has major antipathy towards whimsy, aiming to scrape it out of us with a butcher’s knife to ensure complacency within the overall system.

It specifically targets girls, attempting to snuff out our light so we never recognize the inherent magic of girlhood. But that’s just it: magic. I truly believe that femininity is its own sort of magic — an intrinsic power which men are fearful of and insist on battering down.

The male species seems to love young girls’ bodies, but they draw the line at our beautiful souls.

This makes remaining whimsical a constant, conscious rebellion.

To be whimsical is to be free. Maintaining my whimsy is how I protect the small, scared version of myself that lives in my chest.

It means doing things I know would make her happy. It means flowing dresses and pop music, laughing loudly in public and ignoring the sad sacks who hate seeing a girl thrive in the absence of her cage.

More than anything it means remaining curious, kind and loving in a world that’s all too eager to dim my sparkle.

To all my girls out there: please know that it is always possible to return home to yourself.

Remember what the world looked like through the glittering, hopeful lens of your youth, and put those tinted glasses back on.

You can and will rediscover your whimsy because it never disappeared in the first place. Like Leonard Cohen said, there’s a crack in everything and that’s how the light gets in.

You are already the living embodiment of the light you so desperately search for.

All that you have to do is remember your magic.