A growl slides into my ear on a hot breath as a man yanks me by the hair, dragging me to some hidden corner. Lights blur at the edge of my vision as we walk away from the busy hubbub of London’s Leicester Square. This man demands obedience. Although I have just met him, I know he’s not the type of man you talk back to, so I comply. 

~

Life is an accumulation of experiences — the ones we take, the ones we don’t, and the ones we are flat-out denied. They blend together to teach us who we are and what we’re capable of. 

I was raised to be brave. Being a girl was never used as an excuse to restrict me. Instead, I was taught to solve my problems, explore, and value my independence. My sense of identity was presented to me in terms of strength rather than weakness. From that foundation, my life has been a diverse collection of moments, many thrilling — some even daring. They have woven together to form a rich and full life. But I have seen the way we teach girls to limit their experiences. 

“Be careful.” 

“It’s not safe.” 

“That’s not very ladylike.”

“Good girls don’t…” 

“Those clothes are slutty.” 

“Something could happen.” 

“Are you really going out dressed like that?” 

“Girls shouldn’t…”

“You’re too… emotional, bossy, sexual…”  

“I would never let my girl…” 

Throughout the world, many girls are denied an equal opportunity to explore. The self-entitlement and bravery that boys are given as a birthright are not taught equally to girls, causing them to miss out on an untold number of experiences in life. 

~

A frustrating experience when I was 22 comes to mind. My cousin was 18, and unlike my parents, hers were overly protective and fearful. We wanted to drive two hours to attend a weekend ballroom dance event, but her parents refused. They argued that it wasn’t safe for two girls to be alone in a big city. 

“It’s just not a good idea,” her mom said with lines of disapproval on her face. Each time she shook her head, her shoulder-length curls swayed. 

“It’s safe. We know people,” I countered. I explained all the reasons why we would be just fine, and I remember feeling a deep sense of injustice at their refusal. 

In the end, my cousin’s mother came with us to make sure we were safe. The event was fun and without incident. In fact, my cousin met her now husband that weekend. We would have been fine alone, which is why the supposedly well-meaning concern for our safety stands repugnantly in my memory. Many more examples come to mind. 

A close friend of mine told me that growing up in Guatemala, she was never allowed to go on school field trips despite always asking to. Her brothers, however, were not denied that privilege and went on many such outings. 

One winter day, as the late afternoon sunlight filtered weakly through the window, my husband’s godmother told me of her friend who loved to travel and often found herself driving on rural highways alone. The face of the woman seated across from me held admiration as she told me of the human dummy her friend always kept in the car to “keep her safe,” so it looked as though she wasn’t alone. 

My mother recently asked, “Are you sure it’s safe?” when I told her that I had booked a night in the bunkroom at a nature retreat. 

Perhaps you’ve seen the supposedly comical shirts “Rules for dating my daughter: don’t” and other variations. I’ve never seen one about sons. 

I could go on. 

~

“What’s wrong with protecting girls?” I can hear some asking. “There are predators in the world, or have you forgotten?” There certainly are, and in a world of predators, girls need every advantage. 

In the book Outliers: The Story of Success, Malcolm Gladwell shows us the inequities that can occur when some are perceived as more capable and given better opportunities. To support his point, Gladwell explains the phenomenon of relative age, which is the advantage or disadvantage someone may get depending on where their birthday lands within a cutoff system (such as for school or sports). 

This effect is nicely illustrated with hockey. If you look at the roster for a professional hockey team, you’ll likely notice that a higher percentage of players were born in the first three months of the year than in the last three months. The reason isn’t some mystical theory of their zodiac sign. It’s simple. As Gladwell explains, “The eligibility cutoff for age-class hockey is January 1,” meaning that there would be a 12-month developmental gap between someone born in January as opposed to someone born in December within the same cohort. 

At a young age, 12 months is huge. Talent scouts looking at kids playing hockey together with the aim of selecting the best ones are more likely to choose those born early in the year because they’re bigger and more coordinated. 

Being selected means getting on a special team that comes with better coaches, more games, and more practice. Gladwell argues that those kids do end up with stronger skills, but it’s not because they initially had more talent; it’s because they were given a small advantage that over time grew into a big difference.

This phenomenon doesn’t happen only in hockey. It happens where you have “selection, streaming, and differential treatment” according to Gladwell. This means identifying aptitude and placing people into specific tracks that provide different amounts of support and opportunities. 

This happens in sports other than hockey, and it happens in any educational system that selects the most talented at a young age and gives them the more challenging classes. Gladwell argues that “the small initial advantage that the child born in the early part of the year has over the child born at the end of the year persists. It locks children into patterns of achievement and underachievement, encouragement and discouragement, that stretch on and on for years.” 

Raising children is another area where this phenomenon can happen. Children are identified by gender; through cultural and religious views, often given different experiences and opportunities. This leaves girls to muddle through a complex web of restrictions and expectations that do a disservice to them, while boys are left to explore, practice bravery, and develop their confidence.

Over the course of a childhood — of a life — such differential treatment is huge. Just as there are more professional hockey players born in the first three months of the year, it’s not surprising that only 6% of the world’s CEOs are women, according to Deloitte’s 2024 Women in the Boardroom report.

It’s not the sex where the difference lies; it’s the cultural framework in which children are raised. It’s the small opportunities granted to some while denied to others. It’s the weekend events, the field trips, and the freedom to explore. It’s the world being framed as a playground for some — and for others, a place where danger lurks around every corner. 

Before we move on, let me acknowledge the elephant in the room. The world isn’t always kind to girls. Violence happens to us. We are abused, raped, and assaulted. I’m not arguing that the world is safe. I’m saying that declawing girls at birth only compounds the problem.  In a world where predators exist, I don’t want to be a fawn in the grass; I want claws and teeth and the cunning to use them. 

In my life, I’ve opted for many unconventional and daring experiences, some of which have carried risk and intensity. I wouldn’t sacrifice any of them, and I’m not the only one. Look at Noraly Schoenmaker, a woman who has traveled solo on a motorcycle across continents. There are also Sarah Outen, Jessica Watson, and my own friend Francesca, who celebrated her 60th birthday by walking the 500-mile Camino Francés in Spain, alone. These are women who have shaken the dominant narrative and chosen to believe in their right to a full life. 

~

We’re sold safety, but we’re not told the cost. We don’t consider the many beautiful moments that never get a chance to be lived.

We talk a lot about the dangers of walking alone at night, but why don’t we talk about the magical glow of the moon reflected off flittering leaves, of the way stars wink down through the cool air, and of the soft sound of footsteps in the calm of the night? 

We talk a lot about violence against women. But why don’t we also talk about the crime of clipping girls’ wings, of depriving them of rich and fulfilling experiences? 

Remember, the unlived experiences in life come at a price. There is a loss when you opt out of something you deeply want. There is a subtle, yet crippling, message in overprotecting. Over a lifetime, these daily unfulfilled possibilities grow into a mountain. 

~

A cool wall pressed into my back as I stood next to the towering spires of a church. Streetlight twinkled, and voices of passersby mingled with the night air. The dominant man in front of me, fingers wrapped around my throat, stared into my soul — adrenaline, two heartbeats in the night, and a smile edging my lips. 

I took that experience for myself because I wanted the intoxication of it; I trust my judgment, and I have claws when I need them. Girls are fierce. They are capable, and every girl deserves the ability to live whatever kind of life she chooses.