Princess Diaries came out in 2001, but I’m guessing the VHS didn’t come out until 2002 probably, which means I was eight years old when I saw the Krystal Harris “Supergirl” music video. I loved how antithetical its vibe was to the other music video on the tape, Myra’s “Miracles Happen.” Krystal had spiky hair and heavy eyeliner and kind of headbanged when she played the piano.
There was also a line in the song that resonated with me. This might’ve been the first time I related to lyrics. The chorus says, “I’m supergirl, and I’m here to save the world, but I wanna know: who’s gonna save me?” The next iteration is, "I'm supergirl, and I'm here to save the world, but I wanna know why I feel so alone."
I remember staring at the TV screen with a mix of excitement, elation, and...some other emotion I can't name. I think it's in the Frustration Family. (Gabe helps me categorize emotions when I can't name them so that we can at least narrow it down.)
I confided this feeling to an adult. "I love that song because that's how I feel," I said, emitting mostly excitement and elation. (Maybe the other emotion is actually in the Sadness Family?) "I feel like I'm supergirl, but there's no one who's gonna save me."
The adult gave a disinterested "huh" and looked at me like I'd grown a horn by choice, like I was too ignorant and unwise even to be considered cute for the sentiment. The adult didn't ask why I felt that way. Her reaction made me feel stupid for confiding in her, and stupid for feeling the way I did. I mean, I was a kid. How presumptuous of me to assume I was doing anything heavy or heroic in my little life. I guessed I must been misperceiving my experiences.
But I did feel that way. I felt like I was strong and stood up for people a lot, but whenever I was lonely or persecuted, people just kind of watched it happen, unwilling or unable to step in.
When I got older, I was told that this is because I come off like I don't need any help. People assume that helping me would be an insult, or they worry that I might perceive it as such. Hearing that gave me mixed feelings as much as the "Supergirl" lyrics did.
On the one hand, HA. People are RIGHT. I DON'T need any help. If I have a problem with someone or something, I can and will handle it. Your support is icing on the cake, if that.
On the other hand...like, damn, I'm tired. Could people just do it anyway, maybe push through the fear that I might misinterpret their support?
I have a few memories of straight up asking people to stand up for me, but I always seemed to pick the wrong people, people who were only able to stick up for me in a passive aggressive, apologetic, submissive, barely-a-step-above-just-rolling-over-for-the-oppressor way, which I found worse than nothing.
I also remember the people who stuck up for me the "right" way, without being asked. Meredith Andrews, you're on the list 💚
This post definitely isn't meant to throw shade at everyone I've ever known for assuming I'm a strong, capable person XD I appreciate that—and I genuinely like being one of the Supergirls in my sphere. I can't imagine getting tired of being an advocate for the people I love. It's something I'm good at and enjoy doing.
I think this post is more about the little eight-year-old me, who was already feeling the ambivalence of being "the strong one" in her life, and the dismissal that happened when I shared that feeling. I've talked about this before (here and sort of here too), but I believe it's so important to take kids and teenagers seriously. Maybe there's a place for disillusioning them, but only after you've validated their feelings*. Only after you've asked questions and listened and tried to understand. If you want kids and teenagers to come to you with big stuff, listen to the small stuff, because—to them—it's all been big stuff.
Oh, and stand up for the strong kids too. We're tired.
~Stephanie
* and I mean "validate." A post on "truth versus validity" is in my drafts to be finished one day.
