I’ve always hated the word “bossy.” Even when I first heard the word while we were doing a craft project with our table groups in the first grade, and I was telling everyone who should do which part of the craft, when the little boy sitting next to me looked up at me, clearly annoyed, and said

“Geez Lilia, stop being so bossy!” Well, despite never having heard that word before and having no idea what it meant, my 7-year-old self whipped my head around and angrily said 

“I am not bossy,” with an eye roll. Based on the way he said it, I knew that it was an insult and was utterly offended. 

Later that day while we were in the library with our class, I went over to the big dictionary on the shelf and flipped through until I found the word. It said that it meant “liking to order others around.” I didn’t like ordering people around, I liked organizing and leading things. 

Well, over the course of the next few years, I heard that word a lot from people. Anytime I was leading a project or in charge or was doing anything with other people, someone would bring up my bossiness. And though I knew it was not a compliment, I wouldn’t really give it a second thought afterward, as it seemed like a normal word. That was, until third grade. 

I was in class and we had just been assigned a project where we would be in groups of 3-5 and would make vehicles out of materials provided to us and had to make them move somehow. We were put in our groups and my group and I went to sit on the class carpet. 

“Okay everyone, pick a group leader and send them to get your instruction sheet,” my teacher said while gathering her materials. Both of the two boys in my group were shy, so I volunteered to be our group leader. I went up to the front of the class with the other group leaders and got in line to collect the materials. I looked around to see if any of my friends were group leaders and I didn’t see any of them in the line. While looking around, I noticed that all of the other group leaders were boys. I was puzzled. Many of my friends were just as smart and outgoing as I was, so I wondered why they weren’t group leaders. While I was contemplating this, I got our materials and walked back to my group. 

Later that day at recess, I asked my friend why she wasn’t a group leader.

“I dunno,” she answered

“ He wanted to be the group leader and my other two team members thought he would be better at it,” she said without giving the situation a second thought.

“But you would be so much better at leading your team than he would!” I responded.

“Relax Lilia, it isn’t too big of a deal,” she responded. And so we got on with our days. 

Once we had finished working on our actual project the next day, we were planning our representation to the class. We were working on our sheet of paper and I asked my groupmate if he would do the second part of the demonstration.

“Great! So you’ll do part 2, I’ll do part 1, and -” I was cut off by the paraeducator who was walking around the room helping everyone with their projects.

“Lilia, stop being bossy and let other people decide what they want to do for once!” She said firmly. There was that word. I wasn’t expecting it from an adult, but there it was.

“But I wasn’t! I was just making sure-” I was cut off again.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said while walking on to the next group. I clenched my teeth and had to restrain myself from saying anything to her as she walked to the next group. I was taking some breaths and was about to get back to work when I heard the boy who was leading the next group start assigning different parts to his group members. I knew that he was going to get a telling off, too, so I got ready to hear some arguing between him and the paraeducator. 

“Great work organizing your team! You have such great leadership skills!” The paraeducator praised him. I was enraged. I scoffed and my mouth hung open. He was doing the exact same thing that I was! I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and ask why I was bossy and he had great leadership skills! But there was nothing I could do. So, with my brow furrowed and my hands trembling, I got back to work.

And it wasn’t until later that day in the noisy cafeteria filled with kids yelling and waiting for their busses, that I was thinking about the incident and my mind went back to the word bossy. I was thinking more and more about how many times people had used it to describe me, when it came to me. I had never heard anyone use the word bossy to describe my male counterparts. I had heard them described as leaders and as loud and as outgoing, but never as bossy. 

When I got to my house after school, I sat down on our couch and stared mindlessly out the window. I asked myself why girls and women would be called bossy when they were in charge? 

“It must have something to do with the way we talk to people,” I said to myself. But as I heard myself say that I knew that wasn’t true. I knew I could be good at being a leader and knew so many other girls and women who could be as well. I had heard about times that women and girls had been treated differently because of their gender, but didn’t think that could ever happen to me or to my friends, but I knew that this must be one of those times, because I knew that we could be just as good of leaders and shouldn’t be called bad things for doing the same things others were doing. And that is when I made the decision that every time someone called me “bossy” I wouldn’t get mad or frustrated; instead, I will keep my head up and just explain to them why they shouldn’t ever, ever use the word “bossy.”