I’m happy. I’m happy because it’s my 11th birthday, and I’m in the middle of opening all of my presents. I notice a small Amazon package tucked underneath a large sparkly green bag and pull it out to see who sent it. After tearing open the standard brown and blue envelope, I read the attached note: Enjoy! Happy Birthday! From, Uncle Eric. Inside is a small book, fairly non-descript with its blue cover and pink title: Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. I flip it over and read the summary on the back, instantly blushing as I read the words, “boys,” “bras,” and “getting first periods.” It was that kind of book. An I-couldn’t-possibly-read-this-forbidden-fruit kind of book. It was all way too overwhelming for a newly identifying pre-teen such as myself. I mean, I obviously knew about boys, bras, and periods. Between seeing occasional ads for tampons and suffering through the requisite 5th-grade puberty movie, I was practically an expert in all things growing up. But just in case I had…missed anything, I immediately started reading the book, eagerly getting to know Margaret and her many worries, wishes, and secrets.

Fast-forwarding six years, I’m friends with more than two boys, I shop for bras by myself, and my period is a semi-regular frenemy. I must be a real expert now, right? Well, after a long Wednesday night of studying physics, writing a history paper, and deciding not to watch even more Netflix, I meandered over to my bookshelf and looked over all my old favorites, crammed into three narrow shelves. As I was indulging in some well-needed nostalgia, a small blue book spine caught my eye. I pulled it out of its tiny space and immediately smiled. “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” was written across the bottom in fancy pink letters, just as I remembered it. And just as I had done on my 11th birthday, I immediately sat down and started reading.

“Mom, you wouldn’t believe what I just read,” I said, running down the stairs around half an hour later. I held up the small book, and she laughed. “I remember when I read that book when it first came out in the 70s. A whole book talking about menstruation? It was scandalous,” she said, looking at the iconic title and opening line.
After my highly enjoyable re-read of my childhood classic, my first thought was, wow, would this book be…okay today? Written in the 1970s, it lacks the buzzwords, in-your-face feminism, and diversity for diversity’s sake that much young adult literature contains today. Unlike most of the young adult novels written today, it’s not about an empowered, outspoken heroine who shuts down patriarchal values while balancing chemistry and English classes. Instead, Margaret is just a middle-class, white, heterosexual girl who desperately wants to fit into a bra and talks to God about her problems. She’s not angry with her politicians, she doesn’t really care about her reproductive rights, and she hasn’t marched for her beliefs. Not to say of course that she will never do or be any of these things, but they haven’t been accomplished by age 12. If this book were rewritten in 2018, it might include how Margaret codes in two languages, debates gun control with her friends at school, and tweets about the growing list of men rightly stripped of their golden reputations by the #MeToo movement.

While some may argue that her very existence represents the antiquated system of institutionalized female oppression in which a woman’s only aspirations should be family and appearance based, she’s also just a confused girl who doesn’t know whether or not to wear socks with her shoes or if she should go to the Y or the Jewish Community Center. Simply put, Margaret is one of a dying breed of literary characters without agendas. She has no desire to smash the patriarchy or to be President. She struggles with the same things that my friends and I struggled with as pre-adolescents, and she thoughtfully thinks about her relationship with God. In her eyes, God isn’t an omniscient, unfeeling deity, but rather an approachable, caring, and concrete “Him.” In a truly thoughtful and sophisticated way, Margaret separates religion and God, finding her own meaning in a millennia-old concept. Her rebellion does not manifest itself in what she wears or how she speaks. Her rebellion, subtle and honest, is seen in her refusal to define God by one religion, set of practices, or collection of hymns. She distances herself from organized religion just as teenagers today distance themselves from social organizations or political parties that they don’t believe in.

So, would I, a self-identified feminist and a politically engaged and aware Gen Z-er, recommend that the story of Margaret and her many tribulations as a young adult continue to be a staple of 5th to 7th-graders, girls or otherwise? Do I think it is important enough to be a necessary read for pre-teens who giggle at the thought of a school dance or a tampon like I did? Or is the middle-aged tale outdated as it comes up on its 49th birthday? My recent revisit reminded me that there’s nothing wrong with worrying about growing up, being a young girl, or having aspirations about your body, friends, or potential significant others. As a teenager in 2018, I still feel the expectation to promote myself as an ideal woman to men—smart but doesn’t know it, witty but not too witty, beautiful but doesn’t try to be—but now I also feel another, different, weight on my shoulders. I have to disregard the importance of my appearance, I have to focus on my intelligence, I have to fight for my rights, and I have to be the proud, loud feminist that millions of women can’t be. These two conflicting versions of myself are hard to reconcile and exhausting to maintain. After re-reading Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, I desperately wanted to return to a simpler, younger, more cohesive version of myself. The book might be old, but Margaret’s worries reflect those of every generation of women who have felt scared when confronted with emotional and physical changes. Yes, Margaret’s empowerment comes in the form of challenging her family and friend’s view of religion and figuring out what size bra she needs, but it shouldn’t be discounted, regardless of whether or not it fits the current bill.