But I 39-m. Cheerleader ❲Firefox❳

The deeper wound, the one that took me longer to name, is that I used to say “but I’m a cheerleader” as an apology. I would be in an advanced literature seminar, and someone would mention that I cheered, and I would rush to add: “But I also read Pynchon. I’m getting a 4.0. I promise I’m not just—” And I would stop, because I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Not just what ? Pretty? Loud? Happy? A girl who claps?

After class, she asked what I wanted to write my final paper on. I said I didn’t know. She said: “Write about the magic. Write about what it costs to be the one who makes everyone else feel brave.” but i 39-m. cheerleader

“Yes. And?”

The room went still. He blinked. I watched him try to fit that square peg into the round hole of his insult. In his mind, cheerleader meant pompoms, spirit fingers, the girl who lifts others up so they can score. It did not mean logical fallacies, eye contact during a rebuttal, or a closing statement that made the judge nod. He had called me frivolous. I had agreed with him—and then redefined the entire dictionary. The deeper wound, the one that took me

So when I say “but I’m a cheerleader” now, I mean something specific. I promise I’m not just—” And I would