Sophie Camplejohn, Grade 11
UWC Pearson
It all began at the start of my first year at Pearson; a new faculty member, Marija Uzonova Dang, became the new Experiential Education Coordinator at my school. Previously, she had worked with UWC Mahindra, leading programs to empower students, specifically on gender. Once she arrived on campus, she quickly addressed the need for a feminist group to ensure consistent and educational meetings/workshops/events on egalitarianism. She hosted an open women's empowerment meeting, where roughly 40 students and faculty, mostly female, brainstormed ideas on how we could embrace feminism in our community on post-it notes. After the meeting, she announced that she would be taking in 4-5 students to become the official group, in which we would meet once a week to guarantee that these ideas were followed through. I quickly signed up. And so it began. Two second years, Elis Soord and Ayana Angina, and three first years, Maria Gutierrez, Bingbin Zhou, and I as well as, of course, Marija (or as most call her, MJ) joined once a week to do just that.
We had our ups and downs - many downs in the beginning. Since we were not a CAS, we were students taking extra time out of our busy schedules to pursue all the post-it note dreams. My entire experience as a member of the Women's Empowerment Group at Pearson aided me in truly understanding the uniqueness that the UWC mission and movement holds. Between attending discussions hosted by The Inclusion Project on gender equality, to hosting a movie screening of Girl Rising followed by an in-depth discussion, to coaching and organizing an all-female soccer game/practice, and, last but not least, emceeing our final show in March (Women's History Month), Girl Talk. Being a member of this group pushed me in ways I hadn't expected. I met lifelong friends, stayed up late, working, many nights, grew comfortable in front of a crowd, and never felt so proud as to call myself a woman.
One of the most unnerving moments of my journey with the Women's Empowerment Group was the performance of Girl Talk, which acted as our final hurrah. It showcased a myriad of performances from dances, songs, poems, speeches, acting skits, and more, all, of course, addressing gender equality in some format. A couple of weeks before, I distinctly remember sitting in MJ's house, all curled up near the fire and sipping tea as my fellow peers, and I bounced potential ideas of our grand finale off each other. Even though I recognized that my opinion was equal to that of every other member of the club, I knew exactly what I wanted to do for the final show. So, like a clever salesman, I pitched my idea.
Back home, once a year, a group of feminist clubs from high schools across the bay area (in California) come together to perform for one night; 'dedicated to providing a safe space for people to share their experiences navigating life as women and as those who can identify with the female experience.' The show acted as a fundraiser event, where all profits went to Casa de las Madres, a nonprofit organization that provides 'shelter, advocacy and supports services to women, teens, and children exposed to and at risk of abuse and domestic violence.' During the two and a half-hour show, students bravely faced their vulnerabilities, expressing monologues covering body image, intersectionality, sexual assault, sexuality, and eating disorders. My last year at The Urban School, I had invited my Mom to come along with me. I never expected how much the event would have an impact. There is nothing as empowering and reassuring than having a room full of people vividly expressing 'you are not alone.' So, I wanted to replicate it with a Pearson twist. It gave leniency to how people wanted to express their emotions or talent while being entertaining for the overall audience (and hosting a mixture of depth to the pieces so as to not scare away non-female identifying members of the community).
My pitch was successful, and my team jumped to announce the event, which was just in a couple of weeks time. We had students decorate the walls of the Max Bell Theatre with their art pieces, created a shared playlist of feminist music, and activated the whole community in a way we were previously unsuccessful to doing so. I was everywhere as one of the emcees of the show, along with my good friend, Maria Guitierrez, hosted the after-party (where we danced the night away, listening to the shared playlist), performed a piece of my own, all dedicated to my lovely mother, oh, and organized the entire show (along with many very helpful peers who I couldn't have done it without them). It was a lot of work. It was exhausting. Sometimes, the stress of organizing it all, on top of my normal life as a student, was so overwhelming I just sat and stared at nothing. I spent countless hours practicing my lines word for word.
When showtime arrived, I was shocked to see the number of people who showed up. Not only that, the diversity of people who showed up. The fact that males showed up, period. The other part I was shocked about; I wasn't nervous almost at all. I am not a theatre student, so standing in front of the stage hosting a two and a half-hour show (that I missed the only rehearsal to because I had Marine First Aid training all day) should have been terrifying, right? Yet, there I was, feeling so at ease and confident in heels taller than my finger length and a borrowed tuxedo jacket and pants. Looking back, I think it is because I knew no matter how choppy the performance was, or how many mishaps or delays, I would still walk out of that building proud. That is just how it is when you work for something so unbelievably hard. After tormenting myself by countless hours of work, it was crazy how little the end result actually mattered to me.
The performance definitely had its mishaps and delays, just like expected when you miss the only rehearsal run-through, yet I was having a blast. I stood up on stage with ease and talked to my community as if we were having a conversation, completely comfortable with the spotlight presented on me, which was a shock to me as well. During my own piece, which I, of course, didn't realize how early into the show it was, I even teared up while sharing a poem I wrote about my love for my mother. I later found out that it seems just about everyone in the audience was tearing up or full-on crying, right there with me. It was the same feeling I had when at the Girl Talk show in the audience back home. Like it shouted out at me, 'you are not alone.'
Finishing the show, I stood with my posture a little straighter, a head held high, and a smile that wouldn't quit, as we received a standing ovation. I hugged my co-actors, who became my dearest friends through the process. I never realized how much a single affair could force so much growth. It truly is one of the proudest moments of my life.
We had our ups and downs - many downs in the beginning. Since we were not a CAS, we were students taking extra time out of our busy schedules to pursue all the post-it note dreams. My entire experience as a member of the Women's Empowerment Group at Pearson aided me in truly understanding the uniqueness that the UWC mission and movement holds. Between attending discussions hosted by The Inclusion Project on gender equality, to hosting a movie screening of Girl Rising followed by an in-depth discussion, to coaching and organizing an all-female soccer game/practice, and, last but not least, emceeing our final show in March (Women's History Month), Girl Talk. Being a member of this group pushed me in ways I hadn't expected. I met lifelong friends, stayed up late, working, many nights, grew comfortable in front of a crowd, and never felt so proud as to call myself a woman.
One of the most unnerving moments of my journey with the Women's Empowerment Group was the performance of Girl Talk, which acted as our final hurrah. It showcased a myriad of performances from dances, songs, poems, speeches, acting skits, and more, all, of course, addressing gender equality in some format. A couple of weeks before, I distinctly remember sitting in MJ's house, all curled up near the fire and sipping tea as my fellow peers, and I bounced potential ideas of our grand finale off each other. Even though I recognized that my opinion was equal to that of every other member of the club, I knew exactly what I wanted to do for the final show. So, like a clever salesman, I pitched my idea.
Back home, once a year, a group of feminist clubs from high schools across the bay area (in California) come together to perform for one night; 'dedicated to providing a safe space for people to share their experiences navigating life as women and as those who can identify with the female experience.' The show acted as a fundraiser event, where all profits went to Casa de las Madres, a nonprofit organization that provides 'shelter, advocacy and supports services to women, teens, and children exposed to and at risk of abuse and domestic violence.' During the two and a half-hour show, students bravely faced their vulnerabilities, expressing monologues covering body image, intersectionality, sexual assault, sexuality, and eating disorders. My last year at The Urban School, I had invited my Mom to come along with me. I never expected how much the event would have an impact. There is nothing as empowering and reassuring than having a room full of people vividly expressing 'you are not alone.' So, I wanted to replicate it with a Pearson twist. It gave leniency to how people wanted to express their emotions or talent while being entertaining for the overall audience (and hosting a mixture of depth to the pieces so as to not scare away non-female identifying members of the community).
My pitch was successful, and my team jumped to announce the event, which was just in a couple of weeks time. We had students decorate the walls of the Max Bell Theatre with their art pieces, created a shared playlist of feminist music, and activated the whole community in a way we were previously unsuccessful to doing so. I was everywhere as one of the emcees of the show, along with my good friend, Maria Guitierrez, hosted the after-party (where we danced the night away, listening to the shared playlist), performed a piece of my own, all dedicated to my lovely mother, oh, and organized the entire show (along with many very helpful peers who I couldn't have done it without them). It was a lot of work. It was exhausting. Sometimes, the stress of organizing it all, on top of my normal life as a student, was so overwhelming I just sat and stared at nothing. I spent countless hours practicing my lines word for word.
When showtime arrived, I was shocked to see the number of people who showed up. Not only that, the diversity of people who showed up. The fact that males showed up, period. The other part I was shocked about; I wasn't nervous almost at all. I am not a theatre student, so standing in front of the stage hosting a two and a half-hour show (that I missed the only rehearsal to because I had Marine First Aid training all day) should have been terrifying, right? Yet, there I was, feeling so at ease and confident in heels taller than my finger length and a borrowed tuxedo jacket and pants. Looking back, I think it is because I knew no matter how choppy the performance was, or how many mishaps or delays, I would still walk out of that building proud. That is just how it is when you work for something so unbelievably hard. After tormenting myself by countless hours of work, it was crazy how little the end result actually mattered to me.
The performance definitely had its mishaps and delays, just like expected when you miss the only rehearsal run-through, yet I was having a blast. I stood up on stage with ease and talked to my community as if we were having a conversation, completely comfortable with the spotlight presented on me, which was a shock to me as well. During my own piece, which I, of course, didn't realize how early into the show it was, I even teared up while sharing a poem I wrote about my love for my mother. I later found out that it seems just about everyone in the audience was tearing up or full-on crying, right there with me. It was the same feeling I had when at the Girl Talk show in the audience back home. Like it shouted out at me, 'you are not alone.'
Finishing the show, I stood with my posture a little straighter, a head held high, and a smile that wouldn't quit, as we received a standing ovation. I hugged my co-actors, who became my dearest friends through the process. I never realized how much a single affair could force so much growth. It truly is one of the proudest moments of my life.
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