When my older sister finished Year 6, friends told us to brace ourselves for even more “bitchiness” from the girls in high school. We anticipated the drama by spending the summer holidays watching Clueless, mimicking the “loser” and “whatever” hand gestures favoured by Cher Horowitz and her peers.
When my sister’s first day of Year 7 rolled around, she was ready to face any potential tween girl conflict. But she was unprepared for the cruelty that would come from some of the boys.
…one boy went so far as to throw my sister against a wall and kick her in the shin
When my sister respectfully turned down the advances of two males in her year, they began dishing out homophobic slurs. She tried to ignore them. When that didn’t work, she called out their bad behaviour. That’s when their wolf pack joined in. The abuse became relentless – one boy went so far as to throw my sister against a wall and kick her in the shin.
My sister seemed to grow stronger and braver from the experience, but I – her hypersensitive and anxious younger sibling – interpreted the situation differently.
In my nine-year-old mind, teenage boys needed to be pacified. I reasoned the easiest way to stay safe would be to make sure the boys felt safe. Even if that meant creating a space for their sexism.
The author as a teenager. Source: Supplied
When I started high school, I believed that in order to really survive, I’d need to be accepted by the boys. Because my clutzy hand-eye coordination prevented me from gaining clout on the handball wall, I found connection through humour. Specifically, the sporty boys’ sense of humour. At the helm of their group was Jonathan*.
Jonathan and “the boys” often made sexist jokes, sometimes egged on by a male teacher – like the time Mr Smith* noticed a female student removing her jumper and remarked, “Take it off!” causing the boys to guffaw and the student to blush. If a female student expressed a disgusted iteration of Cher Horowitz’s “Ugh, as if”, the nastiness would then be directed at her. For the sake of self-preservation, I played along.
Mr Smith* noticed a female student removing her jumper and remarked, “Take it off!” causing the boys to guffaw and the student to blush
I learnt to never be a “prude”, never roll my eyes at a flicked bra strap or lifted skirt. I learnt to smirk at explicit comments directed at me and, for extra points, top them up with a more salacious one. When a 14-year-old Jonathan remarked my lip shape would be “good for giving head”, I didn’t miss a beat: “Not as good as ya Mum’s.” Jonathan and I became good mates after that.
That’s how I accidentally became a “” and is perhaps why two male friends thought it would be hilarious to gift me a glow-in-the-dark vibrator in the middle of the school grounds for my 17th birthday. I remember being deeply embarrassed – there were teachers and younger students all around us. But I masked my shame with a laugh, because I didn’t want them to feel bad about embarrassing me.
I maintained strong friendships with girls, some of whom came from conservative homes and were confronted by the crass behaviour. One close friend told me that although she didn’t approve of me pushing the boundaries, she envied the way it bonded me to some of the popular boys. She perceived it as a superpower. But it was just costume armour.
Inevitably, the hurt started to seep through. One hot night out after graduation, a male friend from a different school noticed a sweat patch on my bum while we were disco bowling. He took a photo of it and sent it to my crush. He then pointed out my weight gain and anointed me with the nickname, “Sweaty Bush Pig”. The humiliation felt like a punch to the stomach. He had taken things too far.
High school was done, and so was I. 
As I entered adulthood, I developed the courage to stand up to my male friends’ sexism. Some of my childhood friendships suffered; one mate told me I had become so “boring and conservative” with age. But with others, we were able to push through, be vulnerable with each other and create genuine meaningful bonds.
The author in her early high school years. Source: Supplied
The onset of the #MeToo movement and ’ viral were cause for pause. After our high school was named in a news article, I chatted with Jonathan on the phone. We had a healthy debate about a teenager’s right to explore their sexuality without shame and agreed that there are more respectful ways of doing that without constantly sexualising female peers and teachers. Jonathan said he deeply regretted the way he’d objectified teenage girls – and even rued encouraging Mr Smith’s inappropriate comments. “Those were different times,” he lamented.
We had a healthy debate about a teenager’s right to explore their sexuality without shame and agreed there are more respectful ways of doing that without constantly sexualising female peers and teachers
Underneath all the bravado Jonathan and co had been genuinely “good” boys. Boys who were studious, who made an effort with their grandparents and gave up personal time to serve their community. These were boys who yearned to sit down and talk about their struggles with their mental health, queerness and pressures at home. They just didn’t know how.
If only we’d had positive role models and vocabulary such as “toxic masculinity” and the “” back then. Imagine if we’d participated in workshops presented by , and , instead of another day trip to a museum.
As an adult, I found that I approached new friendships with cis-het men with caution. I often had to remind myself that not all men were prejudiced against females.
The fact that I’m nervous about my male friends’ reaction to this article is telling: clearly I’m still worried about upsetting the boys. Like Jonathan, I’m having to unlearn old paradigms – and it takes work.
I just hope contemporary teenagers are given better tools, unlike the high school students of my era, who were so literally “clueless”.
*Names have been changed.
If you need support, contact on 13 11 14. People aged between five and 25 can contact on 1800 55 1800.
Author has a special interest in body image, mental health and diversity. Her middle-grade novel is out now.
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