This is my most popular essay of all time. I'm sharing it again now because it is part of my brand new collection of essays called Fire for your Feminist Soul.

Curious why it says "a collection of essays by Uta Gola"?

Ever since I turned 40, I decided to finally go by a name I love. So I'm doing it! This is my first work of art published under Uta. I'm in the awkward middle of still being known as Jackie, and working my way to Uta. But that's ok … in many ways that is what my entire collection of essays is about. It's about navigating the messy middle of where we are as we grow to where we want to be as badass feminists.

And once last thing before I share my most popular essay of all time — part of the reason this essay was so popular was because it enraged so many people. I wrote an entire essay about it, and included it in my collection.

Without further ado, my essay:

I stood behind you in line at Starbucks yesterday. You were with three of your girl friends, whom I'm guessing were about 13.

Your faded jean shorts were so short that I could see the bottom of your butt cheeks. That's why I call them shorty shorts. I wonder what you call them.

I was impressed that the fabric somehow still had space for jean holes.

I bet you love those shorts.

Everything about your appearance seemed intentional. From your belly button stud to your acrylic nails to your bleached blonde hair.

Your body looked muscular, as revealed by your shorts and your pink crop top that clung to your body and dipped very low.

Many people are going to look at you with harsh judgment.

They're going to look at your butt cheeks and think you're indecent and immodest.

They'll think you dress too sexy for your age.

They'll wonder who your parents are and how they let you leave the house like that.

They'll think you're just trying to attract the attention of boys.

They'll think you're shallow for focusing so much on your appearance.

They'll assume you're one of the mean girls who is so pretty she gets away with far too much.

They'll guess all the boys drool over you (and probably the girls too).

They'll think you were never taught to value your body.

They'll think you actually have no self worth since you flaunt your body so flagrantly.

They'll think your blonde hair and vapid looks means you must be dumb.

They'll assume you're a drama queen who must want lots of attention.

They'll think you must not have been taught morals.

They'll wonder if you're just going to get pregnant in your teens.

How do I know these things?

Because I used to think them.

I used to judge girls who looked like you. Not a single word from your mouth, and I "knew" all of the above about you.

My pernicious brand of judgment was due to a mix of growing up in a Christian household, being raised at a Christian camp, and being inundatedin a culture that has a lot to say about how girls and women "should" be.

But let's not waste time with all of those soul-sucking shoulds.

Let's get back to you.

Whoever you are.

For I don't actually know a damn thing about you.

But I do hope you keep wearing those shorty shorts.

I hope you keep dressing any damn way you want.

For the reality is — you're going to be judged no matter what you wear or do. It's a harsh reality as a young girl, but there's no real way you can get it "right" in the world that surrounds.

Dress too modest, and someone will think you're a prude.

Dress too sexy, and someone will think you sleep around.

Dress somewhere in the middle, and someone will think you're boring and dull.

Style your hair in an unconventional way, and someone will make fun of you.

Style your hair exactly on trend, and someone will jest that you're just a sheep.

I'm sorry to say this doesn't end when you grow into adulthood.

It continues.

And while there are many of us working to shift the bullshit our culture heaps on its people, change will not come fast enough for you.

You're already immersed in a world that will judge you harshly.

So you wear your shorty shorts.

You do whatever damn thing makes you happy right now.

You let your cheeks hang out.

You pierce whatever you want.

You enjoy dressing and adorning your body.

No one else can tend to the body the way you can.

No one else will care for your body the way you can.

No one else can know the choices that will make you happy.

You can never please them all anyways.

So wear your shorty shorts.

If you'd like to read more essays like this, you can find Fire for Your Feminist Soul here.