Trousers

By Grace, student at Edgbaston High School for Girls

The following is one of a number of standout entries submitted for the GSA Senior Writing Award, showcased here to celebrate the voices and creativity of our students.

I have always found skirts to be a pain. Wearing one requires an abundance of strategic planning – the correct undergarments, a waistband forgiving enough for snacks and meals, and a firm grip on the pleats at the back during a windy autumn day to prevent exposing yourself to the long line of livid drivers lingering on Islington Row Middleway as you walk to the train station.

Now, at 14, my dislike for skirts stems from comfort (perhaps a dash of insecurity), but 9-year-old Grace Bennett only had eyes for fun.

Even back then my enthusiasm for learning earned me a few labels. The boys would call me a “No-Good Know-It-All,” to which I would reply with a condescending smile, as well as a “Thank you.”

As they aged (without the maturing aspect), their insults became more ill-mannered. “ADHD Annie” was undeniably my favourite one – so ignorant that it was laughable.

I was cast as Annie… in Annie for the Year 6 production, after my teachers had noticed my love for the stage outweighed my love for the classroom, if that was possible. I embraced my role fiercely, now looking back I realise I would be more likely to take on such a role then, than now.

However, before all this, came the Climbing Frame.

A 7ft tall, wooden marvel with perilous monkey bars and bright-green ropes. There were endless possibilities for play, and once the gate to this spectacle had opened, I ran towards it, latching onto a rope and pulling myself up, beginning what I knew would be a whole lunchtime of enjoyment.

Though, as I was attempting a front flip around one of the higher beams, an older boy mocked my sudden exposed knickers, shouting to his friends, “Haha! Look at that girl’s pants!” Their giggles stung, and in the blink of an eye the climbing frame was dominated by the boys, while girls had retreated to avoid skirt mishaps.

There was only one solution.

I demanded trousers.

The headteacher’s defence against my proposition, was that girls wearing trousers wouldn’t adhere to “Tradition”.

Tradition? No middle-aged man was going to dictate my front-flip attire.

When my brown bell-bottom trousers arrived, I danced as I tried them on, mirroring a Catholic Elton John.

The next day I strutted into school, swishing my ponytail from side to side as I walked past the headteacher’s office, aware of his parochial remarks from the week prior. I knew his mouth had fallen agape from my peripherals, but I merely walked on by.

As boys sneered at my outfit, I bit back, in an attempt to open their minds to a world outside of the Catholic School Bubble which had swallowed many of them whole.

Either way, their remarks mattered not to me because I knew that I would be able to play on the Climbing Frame that day, and the boys would be completely oblivious to the fact that my knickers were in fact a fluorescent purple.

I watched as more girls arrived at school wearing brown bottoms, admiring everyone’s differing sense of style. Before we knew it, the Climbing Frame became our domain, and we shared it with the boys… if we felt especially generous that day.

It never mattered to me when they called me bossy, because I knew that I was a good leader. It never mattered to me when they claimed I was a “know-it-all”, because I knew I was clever.

And it most certainly never mattered to me when they ridiculed me for my brown bell-bottom trousers, because I was free, and had reclaimed my position, front-flipping over the tallest beam of the Climbing Frame without a single care in the world.