5th
I re-read Harriet the Spy in tenth grade. It had been sitting on my tomboy/outcast shelf for a while, which is where I kept all of the books that made me feel better about the fact that I spent my free time thinking about the taxonomy of bugs, and I pulled it out without knowing that it would expose the gender dynamics of the high school staircase and call into question the ubiquitous male gaze I’d study in college as an Art History major. Nose in a book and hair in knots, Harriet shrugged off objectification, morphing from an elementary school student who might have grown into a high schooler at whom the boys would have tittered to a powerful and genderless narrator. She refused to perform, instead occupying a kind of director’s chair that most young girls are taught to forgo. It didn’t win her any popularity contests and certainly got her into trouble, but she’d inverted the power dynamic. Suddenly, the parakeet narrowed its eyes and was staring right back, ready for a fair fight. - Tess Lynch
