Ricks College and the Beginnings of Feminism

14 years ago I left home to go to school in the thriving metropolis of Rexburg, Idaho. And by "thriving" I mean there were lots of farm animals alive there. By "metropolis" I mean they did have a few stoplights. Maybe 3.

Aside from being tiny and very, very strange (the local grocery store delivered your groceries FOR FREE. In 1995. You remember--before online shopping was even a thought.), it was also wicked cold. Cold like I'd never felt before and have never experienced since.

So, here I was, on my own for the first time at 17, with no idea of the adventures that awaited. The first Sunday I went to church, in a Biology classroom, and right when I walked in I saw Tracey G. who I knew from early morning seminary. We weren't friends but we sat next to each other in class and several times found ourselves the lone voices of dissension on some topic or another. I don't remember what we said to each other, I just remember the profound relief I felt that I recognized someone and wouldn't have to sit by myself. Pretty much the next day we were best pals and creating all kinds of drama for random boys and our roommates. We stayed up late and sang Christmas songs on Tracey's karoake machine in the parking lot. People yelled, a lot. Watching 90210 was a weekly event with 1 medium pizza from Dominos and us singing the theme song. We didn't find it weird that none of our roommates joined us.

We made late night trips to the Maverick gas station, sometimes walking or, if we were lucky, driving my sometimes boyfriend's car without him knowing. If we walked we had a little shuffle dance we did while singing our song about these lovely ice cream sandwiches which, apparently, you can only get in Idaho called Fat Boys. The song went as follows:

Fat Boys, Fat Boys
Whatchya gonna do?
Whatchya gonna do when we come for you?

Shuffle ball change. And repeat. Maverick stations also had nachos at any hour of the night, and cold ham sandwiches in their deli case. So, so tasty at 2:30 am.

Our biggest hijinx by far had its start at the beginning of the school year when the student phone directory came out. I wish I had a picture to give you the full impact. It was and 8 1/2 x 11 book with blue cover. The picture was this: a girl and a boy talking on the phone, hand drawn. The boy was at the top, the girl at the bottom, connected by a long phone cord. Each one had thought bubbles drawn over their heads. One had a picture of a monster truck going hunting, the other was a picture of wedding cake. Can you guess which one was which? Tracey and I were indignant! We thought it was sick! We certainly had more on our minds than getting married, and furthermore, who wants to talk on the phone to someone who is thinking about monster trucks? MONSTER TRUCKS. We shared our righteous indignation with everyone. Our roommates, our FHE friends, my sometimes boyfriend (who said, "I really don't see what the big deal is." Oh yes, he did.) But it wasn't enough. People weren't getting the message that this phonebook cover was better suited to 1952 as opposed to 1995. We had to get more serious. And we did, boy howdy.

And so, on many nights over the next several weeks, whenever we got an itch for proving the point, we would dress in black and go out late at night. Really late. Being that Rexburg was a) tiny and b)mostly populated by careless college students we knew that most people did not lock their doors at night. We hit only boys apartments which makes complete sense. We knocked quietly first in case someone was up late watching tv and if there was no answer we crept inside, found the phonebook where everyone kept them on the kitchen counter and WE RIPPED THOSE COVERS RIGHT OFF. With attitude! One time we didn't hear anyone answer but then we opened the door and a boy was sleeping on the couch. He popped his head up and was all "Wha??" which caused us to run screaming as fast as we could. Other than that is was piece of cake and we collected quite a stack of the phonebook covers. We imagined their shock when they went to look for their phonebook.

"Hey, who tore off the cover?"

"Not me."

"Not me."

"Dude, I didn't."

Really, in all likelihood the boys either didn't notice or didn't care, but it didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now, because it was all about taking some action, righting a wrong, sticking it to the man. And by "the man" I guess I mean the idiot who looked at that phonebook cover and said, "Hey, that looks great. Let's go with it."