By Frances Bote - Year 10, St Peter's College
When you were a little girl, you used to fall asleep dreaming of brave knights saving princesses from dangerous beasts in a faraway land.
You read stories about Cinderellas and Snow Whites being rescued by their princes, desperately wanting to be like them.
You imagined growing up and being one of those perfect princesses, saved by a perfect knight who turned into a perfect prince, and you lived a perfect life in a perfect palace in a perfect magical kingdom.
But as you grew older you learned that the world wasn't a perfect place.
There wouldn't be a knight in shining armour to rescue you from your boring life or horrible beasts, and whisk you away to an enchanting land.
There are, however, monstrous beasts in this imperfect world, hiding under Prince Charming personas.
You didn't grow up to be a perfect princess living in a perfect palace.
How could you be one anyway? Barely making the rent for your better-than-nothing apartment with your minimum wage salary isn't exactly princess material.
You stopped dreaming a long time ago.
Instead, you grew up to be a knight, your own knight who could take care of herself, thank you very much.
Not the sort of knight who slays fire-breathing dragons or pulls swords out of stones; but a knight who walks home late at night with her keys between her knuckles and the numbers 11 dialled ready in her phone; a knight who always has a can of pepper spray in her purse, just in case; a knight who watches a grown man (a beast in disguise) tower over a 13-year-old girl, saying disgusting things.
You swoop in, drape your arm around her like you've known each other your whole lives and walk away with her, with an excuse of a family matter fresh off your tongue.
You hold her as she cries thank you into your shoulder and think, while you don no armour and your only weapons are your wit and words, you're just as brave, if not braver, than the knights you used to dream of long ago.
You've met other knights too.
Seasoned warriors retelling tales of the battlefield, one about heels sharpened as knives (who says pretty can't be deadly?), another about a broken nose and a fractured thumb (you learned not to tuck your thumb in while going for a punch), and too many about girls who screamed a voiceless scream and a crime that roams free.
You've met a handful of new recruits, girls who took off their rose-tinted lenses, and you tell them all you know (always keep your drink with you at a bar, text your friends you got home safely, never wear headphones while walking alone at night) to help them, keep them safer.
There is a promise you've made to each other - that despite your differences, when it comes to the wire, you become family (mothers, daughters, sisters) instantly.
The unspoken promise of I'm here. I'm watching. I'll witness.
Together, you are all mightier than any cavalry, any fleet, or any army threatened; forces to be reckoned with.
You woke up from your dreams years ago, but you thought it was better to be the knight than the princess anyway.
