My Gang

I have no idea of how old I was in this picture, but not very. Nor do I know who these boys were or whose house this was. It's been so long Mama doesn't remember, either. Except that I was probably about two. And apparently this was fairly typical of me in those days -- surrounded by boys. Other than a few girl friends, I didn't really start hanging out with girls until I went to a girl's boarding school in second and third grade. First grade I had one girl friend who lived near us and three boys who I got in trouble (escaping during class, running down halls, knocking on other classroom doors and then sticking our tongues out at anyone who answered) with at school. Junior high was girls -- there was that whole thing the boys got about girls being inferior and sissy, so we kind of avoided each other. They avoided me because I was a girl, and I avoided them because I wasn't willing to accept the role of inferior. If they didn't want to play by my rules and I refused to play by theirs, we didn't have any common ground.

During my last two years of high school I was in a group of four guys and one other girl. So, I guess that to the extent allowed by maturation and our social gender roles, this was predictive of my future for a long time.

Mama tells me that I was the leader of this particular group. The only girl, and the youngest/smallest. That feels right. I don't do follower well, never have learned to like accept it. Actually, I don't much do leader, either. I do independent, which is an odd role for someone who is as gregarious as I am. I don't do loner. I do center of attention. It's a good thing I'm fluent verbally, since God alone knows what depths I might have been driven to if I had to get that kind and intensity of attention on some other grounds. Instead of a blogger, I might be a pole dancer.