‘I’m a feminist. I’ve been female for a long time now. It’d be stupid not to be on my own side’
Maya Angelou
Girls and women spend a lot of time putting each other down. This is a story about someone who empowered her fellow sisters. Her name was Jasmine Redding.
This is her story.
Chapter 1
Just sitting in her dismal corner of the changing rooms, Jasmine could see how much girls were exposed to the inequality between the girls and their male counterparts. Pinned brazenly on the wall were the boys’ sport club advertisements. And then the feeble posters of netball clubs with their team captain posing in her sportswear.
‘What’s the point of having sports if you don’t play them?’ she thinks, frustrated, ‘Hasn’t anyone noticed the pictures in the magazines? All the women are posing and smiling, and the men are all in action shots! Why do they get to play, and we get to pose?’
She is rudely awakened from her irritated reverie when Mrs Johnson, the infamous and widely disliked P.E teacher blows a deafening blast from her polished silver whistle, which she keeps in pristine condition – she is a stickler for order and neatness.
“Hey! Jazz! Hurry up!” Her best friend, Brea Driscoll, ushers Jasmine to the basketball courts, eager to begin. Jasmine stifles a grin. Brea is such a laugh – even now she’s doing her best impression of a drowning cat.
“Okay, okay I’m coming!” shrieks Jazz as Brea attempts to wrestle her through the door, breaking in to a sprint and knocking over every human within a fifty-metre radius.” Beat you!” she laughs as Brea comes puffing up to her. Sprinting is not her strong point – Brea is more of a team player.
After school, Brea and Jasmine go to their new local sportswear shop because they really need some new trainers (although she hates to admit it, Jasmine’s current shoes are fairly outdated). Inside the shop, there are racks and racks of men’s basketball shoes. Unfortunately, the two friends’ feet are not quite big enough for men’s shoes. Jasmine quickly leaves to find a store assistant. But when she unearths an assistant deep in the clothes aisle, she is told something shocking! The store doesn’t stock ladies’ trainers! Outraged, Jasmine storms off to find Brea.
Brea is disgusted by this news. She marches Jasmine out of the shop and goes straight home, promising to text when she gets there. Jazz goes furiously home too. That night neither friend can sleep, both fuming at the injustice.
Chapter 2
The next day at school, Jazz gets told off by Mr Ramsay for being “too obnoxious” when she tells Bob to BE QUIET while she is talking;
Mr Ramsay: “How do you solve x/2t+y = 2x + t2 ?
Jazz:” Well, if – “
Bob: “She doesn’t know! Girls are too stupid – why are you asking her?”
Jazz:” Actually- “
Mr Ramsay: “Don’t interrupt! I appreciate your perseverance, Miss Redding, but Bob really has a point. I think this topic is a little too complicated for you girls.”
Brea, shocked, stands up to talk to Mr Ramsay, but is cut off by a sob from Jazz as she flees the room. Angrily, she hot-foots it down the corridor to the ladies before the tears come. Upon seeing the toilet sign on the door – that globally recognised girl in a dress – she bursts into another flood of tears. Hit by a spur-of-the-moment impulse, she grabs the sign and tears it off the wall. A couple of minutes later when Brea enters the room to console her, she is met with a crudely carved person wearing trousers instead of the usual lady in a dress. “Oh, Jazz…” she sighs, her unrestrainable golden afro bobbing sadly. “You’re going to be in soooo much trouble – although I do get where you’re coming from, there must be a separate way to solve the problem of every woman in the world than vandalising the school toilets!”
“I know, right?” drawls Jazz in her hackneyed American accent. That’s when Brea knows that she’s feeling better, but she has the tact not to say anything. She knows that Jazz will come to school tomorrow with one of her bright ideas. Brea just hopes that this time she’ll put it into action.
When she gets home, Jazz takes out her phone to text Brea about her idea.
Hi, r u free 2morrow?
Soon after, a reply pings back:
After 10. Y?
Purposefully dodging the question:
c u @ my house @ 10
Byeeee
Jazz looks for a cool girl power emoji. But there are only princesses and hairdressers – not cool. Just another reminder that she needs to do something – fast!
Chapter 3
“Hiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!” Brea unceremoniously chucks herself on to Jazz’s’ bed, not surprisingly waking her up in the process. “So, what’s the plan?”
“The plan,” yawns Jazz “is to get dressed and have breakfast! Now would you let me get up!”
Once Jazz is freshened and her hunger satisfied, the pair get to work. Jazz lets the cat out of the bag:
“So, I think that we should set up a website to – “
“Ooooooooh, sounds interesting – “
“Brea! You’re as bad as Mr Ramsay! SHUT UP!”
“Okay…okay!”
“I think we should set up a campaign that girls from all over the world can join. It can be live and online!”
“And we can write out some famous quotes and stick them around our school – especially around the teacher’s desks and the changing rooms”
“Good plan,”
“The only problem is, we don’t have a computer.”
“That’s a minor problem. It should be easy to find a frustrated girl who’s fed up of being shunned aside. And owns a computer, obviously. ”
“I’ll put an advertisement in the school newspaper. Turns out signing up for the news crew wasn’t such a bad idea after all!”
By the next day, only one person has gotten back to them about the coding job. Jazz is frustrated, but Brea is optimistic. She tells Jazz not to be discouraged and rings up the one person on the list – Sharon Yumho. When Sharon picks up, Brea is surprised to hear a vivacious-sounding voice at the end of the line:
“Hey!”
“Hi?”
“I’m Sharon! I saw your advert in the news, and I thought; this is my destiny!”
Taken aback by Sharon’s enthusiasm, Brea takes her time to reply. At least, she tries to – she’s intercepted by Jazz, who’s gotten over her strop and is impatient to find out what is going on.
“Hey, I’m Jazz, I’m Brea’s best friend and I – “
“JAZZ! I’m Sharon, and I’m in your English class and – “
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, ok, hold up! I think that you should come over to – “
DING DONG! The Redding’s unnecessarily loud front door bell rings violently. The pair sprint downstairs to see who it is. As soon as the door is opened, Sharon bounds inside and flings her arms around the two friends’ necks. “Oh, my goodness! I’ve wanted to meet you for so long – ever since I got your advertisement,”
Brea and Jazz share a look. They put the advert in the news yesterday. Sharon is eager to get started, so they explain what the plan is, inwardly laughing to themselves at Sharon’s childlike excitement. Once Sharon is all filled in, Jazz and Brea start to work on the name of their app and what the logo should be, but when Sharon takes a break, she catches sight of the clock. “Gosh! Look at the time! I’d better go – my mum will be getting dinner on the table and she won’t eat unless everyone is there.”
“No problem,” says Jazz, looking up, “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”
“Yep!” exclaims Brea. She’s just caught sight of the clock too. “I’d better go – my mum is always complaining that I spend more time with you than with my own family. I always say that I spend 12 hours with them every night, but she doesn’t agree. Gotta g it yesterday accompanied by the warning that ‘this product is discoloured easily!” With that, Brea takes to her heels and flies out the door, with Sharon close behind her. Jazz grins to herself and decides that she deserves to put her feet up, tramping downstairs and throwing herself on to the beige sofa, totally disregarding the fact that her mum had bought it yesterday, accompanied with the warning that ‘this product is discoloured easily’.
Chapter 4
U ready 2 go?
Jazz’s phone vibrates as it receives Brea’s text. Her mouth dry as a bone, she rolls out of bed and drops to the floor, wincing at the bright summer sun. Ready to go? she thinks. No way! I’ve barely woken up! Tripping over her own feet, she gets up and stumbles over to the shower. The chilly water shakes her into her senses and she throws her clothes on, grabs a bagel, flings her bag onto her back and sprints out of the front door. “BYE MUM!” she hollers, crashing in to Brea and falling in a crumpled heap on the pavement. Giggling uncontrollably, the two best friends stagger into school. The receptionist, Mr Hawbert, is not impressed with their arrival.
He peers at them disdainfully through his spectacles until, shifting from foot to foot, they mumble a hasty apology and, with a last “Sorry, sir!” they hurry to their favourite class, English. Mrs Tompkins, a petite, middle-aged blonde lady, greeted them with a warm smile and a nod as they took their seats. “Before we begin, would everyone please display their silly socks for silly sock day!” Everyone groans. Mrs Tompkins does this every year – and she always wears the same fluffy cat socks. The class cringes as she takes off her shoes, waggling her toes and generally making a fool of herself. Laughing outwardly, Brea and Jazz fumble in their bags and grab their books. “Today we’ll be reading Clockwork by Philip Pullman!” There were a few half-hearted cheers from Brea, Jazz, and a couple of their friends. Silence ensues for the rest of the lesson, apart from sniggers from the ‘popular group’ which are punctuated by pointed glares and rolling eyes from the other friendship groups. When the bell rings, Jazz whips out her phone and asks Sharon to meet them in the library. Sharon agrees, although she’s ‘literally got a TON of homework to do.’ In the quiet oasis that is the library, the three friends help Sharon do her PSHE homework. It is on food disorders and Sharon asks Brea to find some pictures on the internet. There are no noises apart from mouse clicks and typing for a few minutes until Brea calls her friends over: “Hey guys – look at this!”
“What is it?” they say in unison, intrigued. Brea rolls her eyes.
“You’ll see if you get your bottoms over here!”
“OK, OK, we’re coming! Geez! No need to get your knickers in a twist!”
“Who says that my knickers are in a twist? Who even says, ‘knickers in a twist’ anymore?”
“I don’t know? ME! Duh. Use your brain, doofus. Oh, I forgot – YOU DON’T HAVE ONE!”
Everyone titters. ‘Ooooooooh, roasted!’ Before things get out of hand, Jazz breaks it up and leads the conversation back on subject. “What were you going to show us , Brea?”
Brea clears her throat, looking embarrassed “Oh. Yes. That. Erm…. I was going to say that all of the pictures are girls in bikinis. We’ve got a lot of work to do! “
“ Yes! Good point!” Sharon chirps
Half an hour later, the poster is finished – just in time. The bell rings for third period while the girls are collecting it from the printer. They arrive in science looking like they’ve just run through a bush backwards. Science feels as if it lasts a second, and the sun’s smiling face greets them when they stroll to their various form classes. Brea and Jazz’s form tutor is a young African lady called Miss Onwuatuegwa, and she is one of their favourite teachers. They decide to tell her about their idea.
Chapter 5
Miss Onwuatuegwa is extremely excited and impressed by this idea. She thinks that they should ask Mr Elkiew the Computing teacher to help. The two friends grimace, picturing the hard-hearted, grumpy teacher sitting at a computer surrounded by laughing girls and typing ‘GIRL PWR!’ It’s not a nice vision. Maybe Miss Onwuatuegwa has a similar vision, because she laughs and says, “You know what, maybe that isn’t the best of ideas, but if you need any help with anything, I’m yours,”
The girls smiled, relieved. “Thank you Miss On…Onwa….On – “
“Just call me Bahati. It means, luck.”
“Thank you, Bahati!” they chorus, tripping over each other’s feet in excitement as they run out of the door.
Back in the library, Sharon uses Remote Desktops to log on to Jazz’s home computer and continue coding whilst the other two find a suitable logo. Their finished product is blue and green, to go against the classical pink that is associated with every girl.
“Yes guys!” Sharon exclaims, punching the air as she glimpses the logo.
“Thanks. How are you doing?” says Brea
“Fine, I guess,” Sharon sighs
“What’s wrong?” asks Jazz
“It’s just… my mum got fired – again, “
“Again?”
“She got fired before because she shouted at the judge when he asked her to hoover the floor,”
“Really?”
“Yeah. My dad thinks she deserved it and – “
“ – What?”
“My dad was the judge who fired her,”
The sentence hangs in the air like the smell of brie cheese
“That’s… horrible” Jazz gasps
“Why is she married to him?” exclaims Brea, not one to beat around the bush.
“Brea…” Jazz raises her eyebrows and shakes her head meaningfully.
“ It’s fine, don’t worry. I think the same thing sometimes. A lot of the time actually,” grins Sharon, sorrowfully
“What happened the second time?” blurts Brea, causing Jazz to faceplant on the desk.
“She wasn’t exactly fired – she decided to leave because her boss wouldn’t pay her all of the money she’s entitled to, because he said – I quote – it’s a waste of money because she’ll just spend it on shoes!”
Brea chokes on the water she’s drinking and Jazz splutters out a furious “WHAT?”
. “I know,” Sharon sighs sadly “but we don’t want to get involved with the court – for obvious reasons,”
“Well your mum should’ve divorced your dad long ago, methi- OW” Brea stops midsentence at Jazz’s well-aimed kick to the shins. Sharon laughs. “I’d better go. Gotta help with dinner”
“OK,” chorus Jazz and Brea “See you tomorrow!”
The room is silent apart from Sharon’s hurried footsteps.
“Guess we’d better go then,” says Jazz, looking subdued.
“Guess we should.”
“See ya!”
“Bye!”
Chapter 6
Back in the comfort of her bedroom, Jazz weeps silently. A couple of hours ago, she’d been all a-buzz because her big brother was coming home from university, but now – not so much. When he’d come home, she had badgered him about all of his courses, but Chris had just brushed her off, saying something about how girls couldn’t understand mechanics. Now, she wants to hide in a hole, but something doesn’t seem right – Chris is always supportive about feminism and definitely always ready to fight anyone who disagrees with his little sister.
Just as Jazz thinks this, there’s a knock on her door and before she can say ‘Go away’ , Chris walks in and stands awkwardly in front of her.
“Why bother knocking?” Jazz snaps irritably.
“Cos it’s polite. Unlike you.” he replies, smirking. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I’d been driving for ages and I was tired, but it’s no excuse. I don’t even agree with what I said. And I’m sorry it made you sad.”
“Who said I was sad?” demands Jazz. Chris just wipes a tear off her cheek as a reply and pulls her into a big hug. “You did. With that face.”
“This is my normal expression.”
“Exactly. Get roasted.”
Jazz swings her fists at him and sparks a pillow fight so big that her parents come to see what’s happening
“You all right in there?” says her mum, “Sounds like you’ve got a whole flock of elephants up in there!”
“Mum, it’s called a herd. And we’re fine, thanks. We were just coming down.” smiles Jazz. “Right, Chris?” she adds with a pointed look.
“Sure,”
he shrugs
–
In Sharon’s house, things aren’t going quite so smoothly. Her dad’s just come home and he likes everyone to be in the dining room when he gets there, so no chance of hiding in her room.
–
“Get out, Sharon. Your mother and I need to talk.”
Sharon sighs. Not another one of their ‘talks.’ It is not a talk but a one-sided conversation that ends in her mother silently sobbing into her hijab. She remembers her, Jazz, and Brea’s motto: to stand for what they believe in.
“No.”
Sharon’s mother gasps. “Excuse me?” demands her father
“I’m tired of you taking advantage of Mum and me. I’m tired of listening to Mum’s crying. But most of all, I’m tired of hearing you thinking that women should be seen and not heard.”
Her father gapes, open-mouthed at Sharon. “You impudent devil! Go!”
Sharon’s mother opens her mouth, shuts it, opens it again and speaks. “Why don’t you go? I too am tired of this!” Raymond Yumho throws his hands up as if it is all too much
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