girl scouts

when i think back on the brief period i spent being a Girl Scout i begin to feel incredibly sad. there are a few little memories that i believe i enjoyed at the time, but mostly in retrospect i was miserable. for some reason i feel compelled to get it out and so i will. (the matter has kept me awake. i’ve been trying to sleep for over an hour. i’m making oatmeal.)

i was quite excited when my momma told me i’d be starting Girl Scout meetings. i knew what the organization was, but i never considered i could be one. i didn’t think or ask how easy it was, never considered if it was something i wanted to know—and yet i was quite excited. the goal was simple to me then. i was looking forward to meeting other girls, to knowing their names and to spending time with them. i did not have many friends and i wasn’t very good at making them. i remember wanting friends very, very badly. these girls would become my friends in that youthful, feminine way; something i did not know, yet craved. looking back on it as an adult i can see that i felt so confident about joining because i felt they had to be my friends, because that was the “Girl Scout” thing to do. they would want to. i would be one of them.

momma was excited too. she was always eager to involve me in things. it made her feel normal, that we were all regular and correct. i’m glad she tried so often when we were young. back then it must’ve been easier to.

i don’t recall much about the first meeting. i’m sure we introduced ourselves and the troop leader made introductions for the women who would be helping. i probably then learned about the sashes and badges and what to expect from the year, along with everyone’s names and ages. (the only girl’s name i remember is Beth. she was the troop leader’s daughter.) i don’t think much happened during that first meeting, unless we did some sort of activity—more specifically perhaps the activity that led to one distinct memory. i cannot say for sure if this happened at the first meeting, but i do know it was very early in.

we were to color something. i know i wanted to color well, if not color the best, because i loved art and i wanted people to see that. i knew a few crayon tricks. i was also unimpressive so far and i wanted them to like me, to know me for something. the crayons were scattered around a large circular table and we all lined up to walk the perimeter to grab the colors we wanted. there were plenty to choose from and i knew which colors i liked best. there was one color i saw, some specific shade of something, and upon sight i wanted it, so i reached for it.

i did not realize the girl to my right was reaching for that same crayon. i got to it first, our fingers touched. i was surprised by that, being a child accustomed to their own little world, but i didn’t have time to laugh or apologize or ask or surrender before she sneered at me and said, “That wasn’t very ‘Girl Scout’ of you.” i was stunned, quietly panicking, but mostly i was pissed off. i hated her and wanted to hit her. i murmured an embarrassed apology and looked away so the situation could be over. i kept the crayon because she acted entitled to it.

i didn’t think about it this way then, but most of those girls already knew each other. that interaction was my first impression with the first girl, and after it happened it was most likely what i was known for. not for coloring well, but for being someone who wasn’t very “Girl Scout”. i still told momma i had a good time, i think.

i understood patience. i knew it takes time to get to know people, and i wasn’t the only first timer in the troop; though most of the girls already had badges and had started the youngest you could and they were proud to tell about their Brownie sashes. they were never telling me directly, but i listened. they came off as pretentious. they thought they were better—they really did. probably came from their moms. but i do think somewhere inside my little chest i believed it too. they all had things i didn’t and they all liked one another.

sometimes they would have to interact with me because of an activity. it was evident they did not enjoy it, that they’d rather be with their friends, that i was something to “get through” so they could return to normal as quickly as possible. but still, i did try. one of the issues was that i couldn’t relate to them at all. they were such girls living the lives of girls and i was a creature who wanted to be a girl. i could picture their houses and what their dads probably looked like and i knew how their rooms would smell (i stood in Beth’s room once, and i was exactly right about it). i guess i just wasn’t good at whatever i needed to be good at. at the same time they didn’t even try with me, so my attempting to figure it out was futile.

we went on a few trips. i remember spending the night at a zoo, but i couldn’t tell you which one it was. a big one. we got to sleep in this cabin and the staff were all interesting and knowledgeable and kind. i felt nervous about who to sleep beside because i didn’t want to bother or upset anyone. i bought a stuffed elephant and i think i still have him.

there was also a Mardi Gras parade we went to. i was overwhelmed that trip because so much was happening and with no one directly speaking to me i had to quickly follow along with everything that was happening. i can’t remember all the details, but i got in trouble for lagging behind. i think it was when the strap of my little beaded purse broke. i tied it back together and felt lame.

the best trip was when we toured Juliette Gordon Low’s Savannah home. i adored Savannah and i adored that house. the tour guide went into detail telling us all about where the Girl Scouts came from, how Juliette Gordon Low joined the Girl Guide movement in England and got inspired by the Scout Movement to create the first American branch of what would become the Girl Scouts. there were many pictures and videos and i felt that the Girl Scouts were something large and good and important. my troop didn’t feel like that.

learning all of that made me realize that no one was very interested in helping me earn badges. i didn’t know all i could do or how to find out. i earned some here and there like everyone else from a few group activities, but some of those girls knew how to get more, to learn more. i was afraid to ask about it.

i think the loneliest i felt was when we got together for Halloween. the event was at night in our little hut we rarely used. it was an extremely social thing, and i sidled around, never sticking but trying to find a place to be. i was relieved when it was time for us to sit in a circle and pass around the guts.

someone, probably the troop leader, read a silly story about a man’s corpse as we passed around a bowl filled with the body part that was being read about. for example, there were wet spaghetti noodles in a bowl for his “intestines”, a frozen glove for his “hand”, and some peeled grapes for his two “eyes”. actually, no, there was only one “eye”—the other was eaten by the worms. i was excited for this because it was one of those activities i was automatically involved in. i sat between two girls and tried to appear natural, like i hadn’t just been crying at the snack table. that wasn’t too difficult because the lights were turned off.

i laughed and retched with them as we felt the mysterious and gross things (the true identities weren’t revealed until the lights were turned back on, after the story was finished). i was so happy. this was the first time i felt unified with them, truly one of them. we were all feeling the same apprehension and the same delight and the same fun. i wasn’t different within that circle with the fictional man’s guts. i think that was the only true fun i had, and then once it was over, i felt incredibly silly and stupid about it. i returned to sidling about.

now that i’m an adult i know those girls shouldn’t hold all of the blame for how they treated me. it came from their parents, from the women who helped out, from the troop leader. none of them liked me very much, or they were so indifferent to me i didn’t quite exist in the way a child needs to. the adults, especially that leader, saw me as a burden. something that didn’t quite fit with the rest; someone they wished would just quit. i spoiled things. maybe that’s why they were so unfair about that final trip.

there was a big trip coming up and i was ecstatic about it. despite the loneliness i still loved the trips because i got to see and learn new things. i cannot remember what this trip was, where we were to go, but i do recall that it was a big one. bigger than the zoo or the parade or Savannah. what happened was very simple. they told me i couldn’t go. they congratulated me on having the most cookie sales out of everyone else and then told me i couldn’t go on the trip.

i was devastated. i tried to hold it in but i cried, looking up at that large and detailed crucifix hanging from the wall. the one in the main room was even larger and more impressive, but i liked looking at this one too. (the church was full of them, of course.) if i didn’t look at them then maybe they wouldn’t notice i was crying. i don’t know if they saw or not.

the reason i wasn’t allowed to go on the trip was because i had missed the previous meeting. i didn’t know to be pissed off about this, but my momma did. that last meeting i missed was the only meeting i ever missed. momma did her damn best to make sure i was always there and she did, except for that one time. the one time there was an apparent rule i didn’t know about. that she didn’t know about. she took me home from the last meeting i attended and she never took me back. i guess they went on the trip.

i didn’t actively think about it much after that, not for a while. i think i must’ve been pushing it down and away from myself. it came back in bits and pieces here and there, for any reason, but mostly i convinced myself that i didn’t care, i wasn’t there long anyways. but of course it was more than that, i was just so young. it was supposed to be fun and inclusive and educational, but all Girl Scouts taught me was that girls didn’t like me. maybe i should’ve given her the crayon.