So Long, Sweet (Hot Girl) Summer
Saying goodbye to a summer of female empowerment
As the evening chorus of cicadas grows louder each August, my grasp on the last fleeting moments of summer always gets tighter. I develop a bit of a pit in my stomach around this time every year—an anxious agitation I’ve experienced since childhood. In years past, this uneasiness has stemmed from not wanting to say goodbye to late sunsets, warm morning sunshine and the slower pace of the season. All of that is true again this year too. But this summer, there’s more.
This summer it’s deeper.
Because this summer was the Summer of Taylor, the Summer of Barbie and the Summer of the Women’s World Cup.
It was a summer of femininity, feminism, female friendship and female force.
It was a Hot Girl Summer (thanks, Megan Thee Stallion), a Girl Power Summer (thanks, Spice Girls) and every other kind of Girl Summer in between.
We traded friendship bracelets with perfect strangers while wearing sequins and cowboy boots. We shook cities across the country (literally) while yelling “F the Patriarchy” in one collective voice. With our mothers, sisters, daughters and friends, we dressed in pink from head to toe and posed in life-size doll boxes from our childhoods before we watched an onscreen version of that doll expose the patriarchy in brilliant, satisfying, hilarious, and heartfelt fashion. We jumped out of bed before dawn, and sometimes in the middle of the night, to watch the world’s best athletes perform on the pitch in front of record-breaking crowds.
This summer left me empowered in a way I’ve never experienced in my lifetime. The Women’s March on January 21, 2017, was intensely moving, but it was a flash stemming from fear, rage and obligation. Taylor, Barbie, and the Women’s World Cup were a slow build. They were fun. We enjoyed them because we wanted to. Because we could.
I’m not ready to let that go. I’m not ready to say goodbye to the carefree outfits and clever barbs. I’m not ready to be done watching breathtaking goals that send entire countries into pandemonium. I’m not ready to leave this sisterhood of strangers.
And truthfully, I’m not ready to creep closer to a presidential election year where my rights (and sanity) will again be on the line.
So once again I find myself wishing summer would never end. For the ice cream, sun-kissed skin, and sandals, yes, but this summer specifically, for the hope of it all. But no matter how tightly I hold on, August, as it always does, slips away into a moment in time.
So long, sweet (hot girl) summer.
Very nice.
Thanks for the hopeful sentiments!