I Am an Emotional Creature
The Secret Life of Girls Around the World
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Book Description
In this daring, provocative, and insightful book, bestselling author and internationally acclaimed playwright Eve Ensler writes fictional monologues and stories inspired by girls around the globe. Moving through a world of topics and emotions, these voices are fierce, alive, tender, complicated, imaginative, and smart. Girls today often find themselves in a struggle between remaining strong and true to themselves and conforming to societyΣs expectations in an attempt to please. They are taught not to be too intense, too passionate, too smart, too caring, too open. They are encouraged to shut down their instincts, their outrage, their desires and their dreams, to be polite, to obey the rules. I Am an Emotional Creature is a celebration of the authentic voice inside every girl and an inspiring call to action for girls everywhere to speak up, follow their dreams, and become the women they were always meant to be.
Among the girls Ensler creates are an American who struggles with peer pressure in a suburban high school; an anorexic blogging as she eats less and less; a Masai girl from Kenya unwilling to endure female genital mutilation; a Bulgarian sex slave, no more than fifteen, a Chinese factory worker making Barbies; an Iranian student who is tricked into a nose job; a pregnant girl trying to decide if she should keep her baby.
Through rants, poetry, questions, and facts, we come to understand the universality of girls everywhere: their resiliency, their wildness, their pain, their fears, their secrets, and their triumphs. I Am an Emotional Creature is a call, a reckoning, an education, an act of empowerment for girls, and an illumination for parents and for us all.
Reviews
"When I encounter 'teenage girl' stories, whether in novel, play, or film form, I tend to change the channel. Participating in pop cultureΣs clichéd teen experience is like recalling ¬simpler times.‾ It is remembering a past we can never get back, because it never existed. I canΣt think of a time when my life was less definedηpopularity was a murky concept, rules were rubber, and perfection was always just out of reach.
Leave it to Eve Ensler to get it right. Her new book, I Am an Emotional Creature, made me want to vomit from its emotional power. Ensler does not coddle the reader; instead she forces us to realize that teenage girls possess the largest untapped energy source in the world. Written in a similar format as her groundbreaking 1996 feminist theatrical work, The Vagina Monologues, I Am an Emotional Creature is a disjointed roller coaster of poems, fictional monologues, and scenes inspired by real girls around the world. Much like a quilt, the seamsηthe disparity between each pieceηdraw them closer together, even when the girls the stories describe live on opposite sides of the globe.
EnslerΣs world is a place where one high-school girl is tortured for her Ugg boots and another is mutilated for having a vagina, and she manages to tell both sides with equal degrees of honesty, courage, and heartache. Ultimately about all girls, this is a tale about dreams, nightmares, realities, boyfriends, fathers, body image, sports, friendship, popularity, mothers, piercings, and poetry. ItΣs the GodΣs honest truth, as my mother would say".ηBust Magazine
¬A searing look at the inner lives of young females today in entries that explore sex, violence, love, body image, materialism, identity, family, friends, and the futureΔA potent call to girls to honor their emotions and to readers of all ages to uphold human rights at every level, from the boardroom to the bedroom‾ηBooklist
"These are sorrowful voices, and the waste is everywhere: waste of beauty, talent, grace. Sometimes their powerful exuberance rises up and you believe they have a shot at happiness."ηLos Angeles Times
"I Am an Emotional Creature" is thoughtful and provocative. Its unbiased acceptance of girls of all types is comforting and inspiring...Parents often lament about the drama and stress of raising a daughter. If they read Ensler's book, it might open up a discussion of the realities of generation Y."ηThe Associated Press
Excerpt from Book
Chapter One
Section I
YOU TELL ME HOW TO BE A GIRL IN 2010
Questions, doubt, ambiguity, and dissent
have somehow become very unmasculine.
Authoritarian maniacs are
premiers, czars, and presidents.
Each one is more righteous than the next.
Each town they bomb
each human they kill
is done for ¬humanitarian‾ purposes.
People donΣt own the water in their own village
and they certainly donΣt own the diamonds and gold.
Millions are forced to make dinner out of garbage and dust
while Russian businessmen and movie stars
are buying 500-million-euro villas on Côte Sud.
Bees have stopped making honey.
People are drilling in all the wrong places.
The U.S., Russia, Canada, Denmark, and Norway all claim the Arctic
but none of them seem to care that the polar bears are drowning.
They are fingerprinting, photographing our licenses and teeth.
Big Brother is now in our phones, our pods, our PCs.
Not one of us feels even a little safer.
New Age mental health providers turn
out to be former war torturers with beards.
And the pope in a dress showing off his
ermine trim and cuffs
is telling everyone that
people kissing people they love is the greatest evil.
A woman running for U.S. vice president
believes in creationism
but not global warming.
Why is everyone so much more afraid of sex
than SCUD missiles?
And who decided God wasnΣt into pleasure?
And if the hetero nuclear family is so great
how come everyone is fleeing it
or paying their life savings just
to sit in a room with a stranger and cry about it?
The Iraq war cost nearly $3 trillion.
I canΣt even count that high
but I know
that money could have
would have
ended poverty in general
which would have canceled terrorism.
How come we have money to kill
but no money to feed or heal?
How come we have money to destroy
but no money for art and schools?
The fundamentalists now have
billion-dollar private armies.
The Taliban is back
but never went away.
Women are burned, raped, bludgeoned, sold,
starved, and buried alive
and still donΣt know they are the majority.
Water is clearly nearly running out
but even in the desert where thereΣs serious drought
the golf courses are green and lush
and the swimming pools are full of water
for the twelve rich people who might decide to come.
Special people adopt hand-picked babies in faraway lands.
Their flights there cost more
than the babiesΣ parents made
this year.
Why donΣt they just give it to them?
Slavery is back
but never went away.
Just ask anyone whoΣs been whipped
how deep the legacy.
Six million dead in the Congo
and they never made the news,
and donΣt tell me it doesnΣt have
to do with color
and minerals.
Poor folks are dying first
From hurricanes
Shame
Tsunamis
Radiation
Pollution
Floods
And neglect.
Rich folks
just put up fancier super-electrified gates
on their private perfect cities.
EveryoneΣs having ¬benefits‾
and throwing fancy parties
with lots of swag
so the rich people feel good about giving
away the tiny little bit of the whole lot they have.
But no one really wants to change anything.
If you really want it
you have to give something up
like everything
and then those that have, wouldnΣt,
and then who would they be?
And thatΣs too complicated
so they write checks
and keep doing the same old things.
Selling change.
Making revolution profitable.
Corporations own everything anyway
even our hippie jeans, memory cells, and rain.
Why do so many women leaders look like Margaret Thatcher
and act even meaner?
Why doesnΣt anyone remember anything?
And how come rich bad people
get paid lots of money to give speeches
and poor bad people are tortured
and in prisons?
Is there anyone in charge?
Or is this whole thing spinning out until it explodes
or dissolves?
And if there is something we can do
why arenΣt we doing it?
What happened to fury?
What happened to accuracy
or accountability?
What happened to not showing off your wealth?
What happened to kindness?
What happened to teenagers rebelling
instead of buying and selling?
What happened to teenagers kissing
instead of blogging and dissing?
What happened to teenagers marching
and refusing
instead of exploiting and using?
I want to touch you in real time
not find you on YouTube,
I want to walk next to you in the mountains
not friend you on Facebook.
Give me one thing I can believe in
that isnΣt a brand name.
IΣm lonely.
IΣm scared.
Girls younger than me are giving blowjobs
in homeroom
and they donΣt even know itΣs sex.
They just want to be popular
and get some respect.
Most girls my age are taking pills
or not getting out of bed
or eating or starving
or getting nose jobs or implants
or getting cut
or twittering away
or covering themselves
or desperate for a way
to be awake without faking
to be alive without freaking
to be serious
to be true
to even think of loving someone
when weΣre already doomed.
You tell me how to be a girl in 2010
I say letΣs go for it
if itΣs all coming down.
I say letΣs speak it
letΣs fight it
letΣs right it
thereΣs nothing to hold on to
if itΣs already gone.
They left it to us.
It sucks but itΣs true.
ItΣs you and me baby.
LET ME IN
Suburbs, USA
Oh God. I hate it when they act like that.
¬Sit down. Shut up. Stop embarrassing me. Please!‾
DonΣt worry!
I donΣt say this out loud. God no. Only in my head. These are my friends . . . supposedly.
¬Oh God. Please stop. You are so utterly immature.‾
I hate it when all those people look at me.
Not like them. TheyΣre always showing off. TheyΣre not so sure of themselves when theyΣre alone. But in the posseηgiddyup.
ItΣs hopeless. I canΣt keep up. IΣm always one Marc Jacobs, one Juicy Couture behind.
ThereΣs Julie.
¬Hi hi.‾ Kiss kiss.
She hates my guts. Look at her cruising my once-something-now-so-over boot. I wish my feet were leaves. Blow away. I bought the brown leather riding boots like you said. Even though IΣm allergic to horses and I didnΣt have the money. Or I should say my mother didnΣt. SheΣs a temp secretary and sometimes for weeks doesnΣt even get called. I got hysterical in the shoe store. Started hyperventilating on the floor. My mother was so embarrassed that she paid.
But then they changed right after that. Julie says riding boots are so pre-Britney. ItΣs all about purple UGGs. My mother will not even consider it. She doesnΣt get it. She constantly jeopardizes my position. I mean sheΣs the reason I canΣt keep up. I hate my mother and I hate these painful riding boots even more. To be honest I didnΣt like them in the first place. Now I just look like a stupid girl without a pony.
Oh God, Julie just canΣt stop.
¬Cut it out, okay? I got the drop circle earrings like you said and the . . . Just stop checking me out.‾
DonΣt worry. I donΣt say this out loud. Only in my head. They are my friends . . . supposedly.
Julie now hates every bit of me. It happened yesterday. I completely blew it. I was accidentally nice to Wendy Apple in front of them. I forgot and hugged her right there. I lost myself. Wendy is so out. SheΣs got wild hair and her family lives in this ugly house and she has the dumbest laugh. She canΣt help herself and she really doesnΣt care. To be honest, I sort of like Wendy. Well, I admire her. SheΣs pretty sarcastic and draws these amazing pictures of slutty angels who are always falling from somewhere like outer space. But itΣs familiar.
Julie says sheΣs not like us. Well, them. Julie saw me hug Wendy and did the big eyeball roll in front of all of the posse like I was demented or pathetic and then she turned her back on me. So did they. Like her backup dancers.
So I got mad at Wendy. I shoved her a little and turned my head and told Wendy to stay away from me. She just looked at me, stared in shock like I was an alien. Then she started crying. That made me feel pretty shitty because I kind of like her a lot. But it made Julie like me again. Later Julie gave me the same kind of glitter lipstick that Beyoncé wore at the MTV music awards. Julie only used it for two weeks.
But she is suspicious. So are the others. The word is out. ItΣs because of my clunky boots and my tits. Well, my lack of them. Julie is stacked and thatΣs why all the greatest guys are after her. She and Bree rule the posse. They donΣt go anywhere apart. Even to pee. I saw them go into the toilet together. They were laughing real loud and we were all wondering if it was us they were laughing at. Wendy told me they had padded bras and went all the way. ThatΣs why the guys like them so much. But Julie is genuinely pretty and very skinny. Her stomach is totally wholly abbed and flat like Gwen StefaniΣs and sheΣs got that ¬I canΣt help it if IΣm perfect‾ smile. BreeΣs hair is actually a little frizzy but sheΣs got perfect breasts and the coolest voice all deep like Miley and she doesnΣt even have to fake it. She was born like that. Bree brought me into the posse Σcause I helped her with her history exam. She definitely regrets it now. I am the contaminator. Loser-girl virus. It spreads so fast, and once you get it youΣre forever dead and ugly.
Oh God. Look at them. They canΣt even go to the vending machine without each other. ArenΣt they happy?
I shouldnΣt be telling you this. Breaking confidentiality. Totally illegal. We signed this posse agreement, really cool like
Angelina JolieΣs personal assistants do.
But sometimes I want to say:
¬Grow up. Be real. Stop pretending. Leave me alone.‾
DonΣt worry, I donΣt say this out loud. Only in my head. These are my friends . . . supposedly.
But the reason they hate Wendy Apple so much is Σcause she was one of them once. Higher up than Bree. I mean, she could have been a Julie. What Wendy did was like a revolutionary. She just gave it up. I mean, she walked away. She said it was stupid. And she told everyone their secrets. Even the ugliest and fattest girls know about their padded bras. Julie and Bree tried to sue. But the posse agreement didnΣt really hold up in high school court.
I canΣt believe it. Julie and Bree are all over Amber. ThatΣs because of AmberΣs older brother who Julie is suddenly dating. Amber made this happen, and so now Julie is just worshipping her. I mean, God, you would think Amber would be embarrassed. Two weeks ago Julie and Bree humiliated her in the locker room, did the posse circle in the shower when Amber was naked and we all laughed at her body.
You know Wendy wrote me a note in third period and said she wasnΣt crying for herself. She said she was crying for me Σcause I started out so nice and now I am so desperate. But IΣm not funny like Wendy or talented. I am so tragically in the middle. Not one outstanding characteristic. I have nothing going for me . . . but them.
Wait a minute. ThereΣs no more room at the table. Tiffany was supposed to get there first and save me a seat. But Tiffany is sitting in between Julie and Bree.
Oh God, look at my bootsη?they are so stupid. And my hair, I hate it. My mother canΣt even get work as a typist. IΣm just a pathetic blob of middle girl.
¬Please donΣt do this. Make room at the table. Tiffany, what about my seat? DonΣt squeeze me out. Tiffany, stop pretending IΣm not here. Oh look, look. Julie is braiding your hair. So now youΣre JulieΣs friend. Tiffany! Tiffany, turn around! I am here. I am not dead. What? What?‾
Bree is motioning them to cut me off. TheyΣre giving me the posse slam.
¬DonΣt do that. Bree, remember I helped you pass the exam? I gave you the answers and risked my ass. Listen. I donΣt like these riding boots. I bought them for you. I know you were really generous to let me in because I am so utterly insignificant. I know I donΣt have breasts. IΣll get the UGGs. I promise. I wonΣt be nice to people you hate. IΣll do whatever you want. Please. Please just let me sit down. Make room on the bench. Let me in. Let me in. Let me in!!‾
Oh God. Everyone is looking. I must be really screaming. ItΣs in the cafeteria and not just in my head.
¬Let me in. Make room on the bench.‾
(Tantrum)
¬I canΣt do it, Julie. I canΣt keep up. I will never be invited. I wonΣt ever get the guy. My hair is stringy and ugly and my breasts donΣt exist. I am a piece of shit shit shit. Let me in. Let me in.‾
(She collapses.)
(She wakes up.)
I wake up at WendyΣs. There is incense burning that smells like fruit. Apples, I think. Right. Wendy Apple. I donΣt remember how I got here. Wendy is sitting next to the bed, drawing a picture of me as an angel in transition. She says I have hit bottom. And that it feels terrible now. But I am lucky it has happened so young. She says she will be my friend if I can stop worrying about being popular. She says there are others who donΣt fit in and I will like them better. She says there is another world and the door is open. She says she can help.
Wendy laughs and itΣs too loud. I want to be pretty. Wendy is incredibly kind. I want to be skinny. Wendy is on the outside. And I am no one. Wendy is by my bed and she is drawing my picture.
WHAT DONΣT YOU LIKE ABOUT BEING A GIRL?
Girls canΣt control anything
Boys can do anything they want
My brother is adored,
I am ignored
My boobs, people talking about my boobs
People assuming you canΣt do something
My boobs, it all changed with my boobs
Blood, cramps, seven days
People thinking you are weak
A girl can get pregnant
You have to do your hair
You have to remove your hair
Wash and iron clothes
More chance of being raped
Have to take care of husbands and kids
Girls canΣt work even though
they are educated.
