Call to Action

I am an unabashed girl-nerd. When I was a teen, my friends and I skipped the football games to sit in coffee houses, cradling our mugs and quoting Sylvia Plath.

When I aged up to what passes as adulthood, not only did I write YA novels, I taught both middle and high school English. I discovered that girl-nerds can spot each other from generations away. Our proclivities define us, bind us, enrich us, and teach us to fly.

But there’s a new dick-swinging sheriff in town with a beefed-up dick-swinging posse, and we’ve reached what you might call a Turning Point (see? nerd girl puns are topical and biting) which has spawned a toxic male culture that threatens every snarky, book-smart girl’s existence.

I worry we can’t survive an era of ladies as godly chattel or plastic government prop by keeping our heads down. The world we face is less intelligent, less enlightened, and less expansive. Robbed of passion and self-determination, girl nerds don’t stand a chance.

So, my sisters, and you know who you are. It’s vital to write freehand and faithfully in your journals, teach yourself how to knit and wear the rainbow hats you make, and identify and raise up your sororal iconoclasts. Make no mistake, the patriarchy is already out of the barn, clamoring for your body, and AI wants to slide into your fierce, independent brain. The future of the free nerd girl world rests on our midnight pacts and bon mots. Resist! I promise I am here to mentor.