Let the Girls Scout
I recently stumbled across a quote from the late, great Gloria Steinem.
“We all have a place at the campfire. It was the Girl Scouts who taught me that first.”
Growing up in small-town Iowa in the 70s, I too wanted to be a Girl Scout. And although I gave it a gallant effort, my time around a campfire, proudly wearing a green sash, wasn’t meant to be.
My scouting story of youth doesn’t include selling cookies door to door or earning patches. In fact, my Girl Scout story is a non-story. I was never a Girl Scout.
It was 1979, and I was twelve. I watched with envy as my male classmates wore their khaki Boy Scout uniforms. Scouting was very popular in my hometown of Remsen, Iowa. But it was only for the boys. There were no Girl Scouts.
The Scouts proudly wore shirts decorated with patches, boasting their outdoor achievements. Red handkerchiefs cinched around their necks added prestige. On weekends, I would watch them follow the Scoutmaster, leading them single file through my little town. I longed to join the adventures to which I was not invited.
I watched with curiosity when they gathered indoors at our city gym. The large town park behind my house, with a creek running alongside it, became their outdoor playground. I would pretend to enjoy some alone time on the swings while really trying to get a closer look at what they were studying so intently. Fascinated by their arsenal of magnifying glasses, nets, and pocket knives, I imagined how they used them.
It all looked like fun. But since neither of my brothers was a Scout, I lacked insider information or an excuse to tag along. So I settled for being an observer.
Until big-city news rocked my world. Girl Scouts existed everywhere! But not in my world. Well… at least not yet.
My beloved Aunt Kathy was a college student at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska. On a visit home, she told me about volunteering with the Girl Scouts, including leading a troop. Although I loved hearing the details, I couldn’t get past the first word.
‘GIRL’ Scouts? Really??
I had never heard of such a thing. Could Scouts be girls? We had girls in Remsen. Why did we not have Girl Scouts?
Kathy was always resourceful. I asked if she could start a troop for me and my friends. Since she was living in Omaha, that wasn’t feasible, but she promised to look into it. Eventually she gave me the address for the Girl Scouts of America headquarters in New York City and encouraged me to write them.
“They want every girl to have an opportunity to be a Scout. Ask them what your first step should be to add a troop to Remsen.”
For me, that meant writing a letter by hand, stamping it, and mailing it from the post office two blocks from my house. No email. No website. No social media. Just twelve-year-old me, a piece of paper, and a stamp.
I name-dropped my Aunt Kathy and her leadership role in the organization and shared my frustration about feeling excluded from the Boy Scouts. Why did the boys have a Scouting group in Remsen, but there was no Girl Scout option?
After I attached the stamp and mailed my letter from our corner post office, I had no serious expectations of a response. Instead, I reveled in the satisfaction of saying my piece.
A month later, I received a response. My letter had been redirected to the District Director for Northwest Iowa. She thanked me for my enthusiasm and outlined the next steps for a troop in our area: interested girls and adult leaders. She would stop by the schools next time she was in town to gauge interest. And could she publish my letter in our town newspaper, The Remsen Bell?
Soon after, a neighbor waved me down.
“Sandy, that was a very nice letter you wrote in the paper. I hope you get your Girl Scout Troop!”
As I meandered around town, many people offered words of encouragement about my Girl Scout plea. During a visit to my grandma’s, I discovered what was behind all the attention. Grandma had the newspaper open to my published letter to the Girl Scouts of America. The letter was followed by a plea for leader volunteers to organize a much-needed troop in our area. She had proudly shown it to her quilting group and anyone who stopped by that day.
Unfortunately, my story didn’t end with me wearing a sash or earning a special badge for bringing Girl Scouts to Remsen. Either the process was longer than anticipated, or I lost interest. The first Girl Scout meeting notices in our town’s paper didn’t appear until 1982, deep into my pubescent years, when any activity with the word ‘girl’ no longer appealed to me.
But perhaps my letter made a difference by bringing attention to this disservice to the girls of Remsen.
I had no clue I was advocating for equal rights.
In my mind, I was only asking the obvious.
