Hi girls, this is Mariana, your godmother. Your parents gave me this chance, after my slight insistence, to be the one you call when you have questions. When you go to spin bad cotton. When you’re going to want to smoke your first joint or fire your first brush without getting hit on by your parents. That said, I’ll tell them, but I’ll wait until you do first.
I am writing this letter to you because I want to prepare you for what awaits you in the coming years. Even if we are not part of the same generation, know that humans often make the same mistakes.
For now, you are girls. I don’t know if you will want to change sex or gender. Know that if it is your wish, I will support you. Be aware that it may upset people.
To be different, to assume in its more atypical choices, that still shocks, unfortunately. You risk being insulted, intimidated, stirred, but don’t worry, you will have good tools to defend yourself. Starting with me, your families, friends and fellow human beings.
You may want to speak loudly, make your emotions exist wherever you go, and externalize your joy. That too, people will find it hilarious. Because generally, people are more discreet. Disturbing others, taking up space, it’s abrupt. If you’re that kind of person, people may make you feel bad for being you. But instead of getting mad at them, try to incorporate them into your delusion. Make them understand that the more the merrier, the more we advance, together. There is room for everyone.
I am so sad to also announce that several girls around you will be jealous of you, at least once. You will envy them, too. It’s healthy to want something you don’t have. But over time, you will understand that not all girls have had the chance to be themselves. The girls around you will be both your worst enemies and your best allies.
Don’t make the same mistake your godmother did: don’t waste energy responding to insults on the internet when you’re going to “post” something. Instead, show empathy and try to understand them: those who write to you probably want to be like you. Or at least they once wanted to feel free, but their mom or their husband or their time told them they couldn’t. It’s sad, huh! But I’m going to make sure that won’t be the case for you and that you can assume who you are, always.
Respect people older than you. They don’t want to piss you off. They don’t want you to make the same mistakes they did. It’s selfish said the same, but it’s benevolent. Even if you want to roll your eyes to the point of losing your retina, know that it is never malicious.
If ever one night while you’re playing fetch in my basement and you don’t want to disturb me because I’m talking too loudly on the phone with your mothers to reassure them, a boy does something you don’t like, say -him.
Start by saying it quietly, “I don’t like it. If he’s not listening, raise your voice. If he persists, a little kick in the testicles. With the cry that I will hear, I will drop the phone. The boys are nice, don’t be afraid. It’s just that sometimes people will try to follow their impulse and it’s never too late to tell them that it’s not working out the way they want it to.
Finally, girls, I want to tell you that life is really beautiful. Especially if you follow your instincts, raise your voice when you feel it’s not right. That something is not working.
Do not be afraid. Defend yourself. Stand up for those who couldn’t. And do not hold a grudge against those who will envy you, take them in your arms and give them love. Together, we are stronger.
Celebrate yourself as much as possible.
Dance in panties.
Put on neon clothes.
Slide on your knees on the dance floor.
Do not be afraid.
I love you.
— Godmother Mazza
P.S. You are not old enough to read. You are 4 years old (Clémence) and 19 months (Flora). Simon, Cindy, Sophie and Seb, please print this text, freely inspired by the “Letter to my son (with a punch at the end)” by Stéphane Dompierre, to have them read it when they can.