“Kayla, you are not a hoochie.”
“But I wanna be a hoochie, Nana! They have so much fun!”
My 16-year-old self was lamenting to my godmother; fed up with feeling like an absolute prude (whatever that meant for a 10th grader, lol).
That little exchange may sound like a joke - and honestly, it's funny - but it also captures something deeper. Something that’s lived in my body for years before I ever found the words for it; because I’ve spent most of my life being “the good girl.”
The well-behaved.
The responsible.
The respectable.
The one who doesn’t push too far, laugh too loud, want too much, or dare to be messy.
And the world loves a good girl…as long as she stays in character.
But the truth is:
being “the good girl” can feel like a beautifully decorated cage.
A polite little prison wrapped in toxic validation, gold stars, and “You’re such a good example.”
People don’t talk about the grief that comes with that.
The grief of all the versions of yourself you never got to meet.
The bold one.
The wild one.
The one who took up space without apologizing… or over-explaining… or shrinking.
The version of you who didn’t care about who was watching.
Or judging.
Or waiting to pull out the “You weren't raised like that” card.
Even the fictional “hoochie” I was talking about wasn't about clothes or behavior - she’s about freedom.
Freedom to explore.
Freedom to be curious.
Freedom to live without the soundtrack of someone else’s approval in the background.
I grieve her sometimes.
The girl who could’ve been curious.
The girl who could’ve been messier.
The girl who could’ve been more fully herself without the fear of disappointing the people she loved.
Being the good girl teaches you how to behave, how to perform, how to anticipate everyone else’s needs.
But it never teaches you how to ask your own heart what it wants.
So here I am, unlearning.
Rewriting the script (and enjoying myself btw);
Giving myself permission to explore the parts of me that were tucked away so I could survive in a world that loves its women obedient and quiet.
And if you’re reading this and feeling that same tug - that ache - that quiet mourning for the you that never got the chance to shine… I want you to know this:
You’re not alone.
You’re not too late.
You’re not too grown.
You’re not too established in your ways.
You can still meet her:
The bold one.
The curious one.
The one who laughs with her whole chest and doesn’t ask for permission to live.
The world may have named you “the good girl.”
But you get to decide who you become next.
And that just might be the most freeing thing of all.
From my Korner to yours,
Kayla
