The Nuanced Optimism of Girls State

There’s
a
tendency
in
generational
discourse
to
position
young
people
as
one
of
two
archetypes:
Either
children
are
the
naive,
detached,
irresponsible,
phone-addicted,
self-absorbed
embodiment
of
all
modern
sins—or
they’re
the
long-awaited
antidote
to
the
wells
their
ancestors
have
already
poisoned.
Neither
portrayal
is
fair;
neither
portrayal
is
accurate.
And
while
the
new
documentary

Girls
State
never
addresses
this
bifurcation
directly,
its
framing
of
girlhood
in
the
2020s
nevertheless
touches
on
how
challenging
it
is
to
hold
two
truths
in
the
same
hand
in
America.
Especially
when
you’re
a
kid.
And

especially
when
you’re
a
girl.

Girls
State,
now

streaming
on
Apple
TV+,
is
the
“sibling”
documentary
to
Amanda
McBaine
and
Jesse
Moss’s
2020
film

Boys
State.
Both
films
chronicle
gender-segregated
programs
run
by
the
American
Legion
veterans
association,
which
challenges
a
competitively
selected
group
of
high
schoolers
to
build
a
mock
government
in
a
week.
Although

Boys
State
was
filmed
in
Texas,
McBaine
and
Moss
aim
the
lens
at
Missouri
for

Girls
State,
filmed
on
the
Lindenwood
University
campus
outside
St.
Louis
in
the
summer
of
2022.

The
documentary
endeavors
to
represent
the
Girls
State
program
in
its
fullness,
but
does
so
through
a
handful
of
chief
protagonists,
each
interviewed
and
selected
prior
to
filming.
They
are
buoyant
and
sanguine,
but
rarely
uninformed,
and
they
consider
vying
for
a
position
of
leadership
in
the
Girls
State
government
system—the
most
acclaimed
of
which
is
governor—not
a
mere
resume-builder
but
a
consequential
honor.
These
students
include,
among
others:
Emily
Worthmore,
ambitious
and
warm,
but
concerned
about
her
public
speaking
skills
and
conservative
leanings;
Cecilia
Bartin,
hungry
to
use
her
considerable
charisma
to
tackle
meaningful
gender
issues;
the
wry
but
practical
Faith
Glasgow,
passionate
about
gun
control
and
reproductive
rights;
the
brilliant,
grounded
Tochi
Ihekona,
thrilled
to
counsel
as
Attorney
General
but
wary
of
microaggressions;
and
Supreme
Court
hopefuls
Nisha
Murali
and
Brooke
Taylor,
who
develop
a
deep
friendship
even
whilst
competing
for
the
same
chance
to
wear
a
justice’s
robes.
Together,
these
students
ride
the
waves
of
dissonance
that
underscore
a
rah-rah-girl-power
environment
in
which

the

Dobbs
opinion
has
only
just
been
leaked.

As
they
braid
one
another’s
hair,
chant
anthems,
and
conduct
Instagram
election
campaigns,
these
girls
also
turn
a
side-eye
to
the
Boys
State
program
taking
place
on
the
same
campus.
The
boys
have
the
privilege
to
walk
alone;
the
girls
must
use
a
buddy
program.
The
boys
can
dress
more
freely;
the
girls
must
police
how
much
skin
they
expose.
And
the
Boys
State
program,
as
Worthmore
investigates
later
in
the
film,
receives
significantly
more
funding
dollars
than
Girls
State.
These
revelations
do
not
undermine
the
value
of
Girls
State’s
empowerment
bent,
but
they
do
teach
the
participants
that
a
binary
is
just
as
often
a
double
standard,
and
that
“girlboss”
language
often
does
more
to
uphold
the
status
quo
than
transform
it.
As
the
film
continues,
the
protagonists
learn
that
the
issues
they’re
debating
are
almost
never
simplistic.
That
realization
both
terrifies
and
liberates,
for
it’s
also
true
of
them
as
individuals.

Curious
about

Girls
State’s
loaded
point
of
view,
I
traveled
to
the
True/False
Film
Festival
in
my
hometown
of
Columbia,
Missouri,
to
see
the
film.
A
few
weeks
later,
I
caught
up
with
McBaine
and
Moss
to
better
understand
their
approach.
A
version
of
our
conversation
is
replicated
below.

Amanda
McBaine
and
Jesse
Moss
on
the
set
of

Girls
State.

Tell
me
a
bit
about
your
decision
to
follow
up

Boys
State
with

Girls
State,
and
why
it
felt
so
important
to
“revisit”
this
project
while
tackling
a
very
different
scene.

Moss:
From
the
beginning,
we
thought
about
Girls
State.
We
were
actually
talking
to
Texas
Girls
State
while
we
were
talking
to
Texas
Boys
State.
The
project,
in
our
minds,
was
about
young
people
coming
of
age
in
these
divided
times,
and
how
they
were
making
sense
of
the
world
around
them.
So
we
weren’t
specifically
focused
on
boys,
but
through
the
openness
of
[the
Texas
Boys
State]
program,
we
ended
up
with
the
boys
and
ended
up
with
that
film.

But
we
have
two
teenage
daughters.
We
think
a
lot
about
young
women
and
girlhood,
and
we
always
knew
we
wanted
to
make
this
film,
that
the
project
was
incomplete.
So
there
was
a
question
of
when
and
where
and
how,
but
not
why.

It
was
interesting.
For
example,
at
Boys
State,
the
boys
would
tentatively
talk
about
abortion,
but
they
were
so
uncomfortable
that
there
were
no
women
there,
and
they
knew
it
probably
wasn’t,
in
a
way,
appropriate
[for
them
to
decide],
and
it
presented
to
us
the
necessity
of
exploring
that
issue
and
other
issues
with
young
women.
We
hoped,
perhaps
naively,
that
in
2018,
when
we
shot

Boys
State,
that
the
country’s
divisions
would
heal.
We
found
through
the
beliefs
of

Boys
State
and
into
2022,
when
we
shot

Girls
State,
that
the
country’s
polarization
was
ever
more
extreme.
The
necessity
of
really
getting
back
into
it
was
clear
to
us.

Mcbaine:
A
couple
of
days
before
all
these
girls
convened,
the

Dobbs
case
was
leaked.
So
that
was
on
everybody’s
mind
going
into
that
week;
that
was
extraordinary.

Moss:
We
were
really
challenged,
in
a
way,
by
the
success
of

Boys
State,
and
the
idea
of
following
up
one
documentary
with
a
sequel,
so
immediately
we
called
it
a
“sibling.”
It
was
to
release
ourselves
from
the
expectation
of
having
to
be
the
same
but
different,
and
we
also
engaged
in
small
negotiations
with
ourselves
about
taking
the
risk
to
follow
[Boys
State]
up.
I
told
Amanda,“Let’s
do
it,
if
for
no
other
reason
than
our
daughter,
who’s
16,
can
work
with
us
in
production
as
a
PA,
and
if
it’s
an
absolute
bomb—which
it
could
be—at
least
we’ll
have
that
experience
together,
and
that’ll
be
worth
it.
She
can
see
what
it
is
we
actually
do.”
Fortunately,
it
wasn’t
a
bomb.
There’ve
been
a
few
documentary
sequels,
but
they’re
often
not
very
good,
and
so
I
think
the
“sibling”
formulation
was
helpful
for
us.

What
was
it
that
ultimately
brought
you
to
Missouri
for
this
film,
given
that

Boys
State
was
filmed
in
Texas?

McBaine:
We
knew
we
didn’t
want
to
stay
in
Texas.
Partly
because
we’d
already
talked
to
that
program,
but
partly
because
it’s
a
big
country
and
we
wanted
to
experience
another
state.
In
the
end,
we
ended
up
in
Missouri,
because
the
program
there
is
really
dynamic,
run
by
a
great
group
of
women.
We
needed
the
program
to
be
big,
because
the
bigger
the
democracy,
the
more
people
involved,
the
messier
and
harder
it
gets
to
get
organized.
We
needed
that…
For
the
first
time,
[Missouri
Girls
State]
was
running
in
parallel
with
the
Boys
State
program,
and
I
think
that
was
compelling
to
us.
We
didn’t
know
what
that
meant.
In
fact,

they
didn’t
know
exactly
what
that
meant,
except
that
[there
would
be]
a
little
bit
of
overlap
at
some
point
during
the
week.
But
what
I
didn’t
quite
anticipate
is
how
much
the
boys
and
girls
were
going
to
be
talking
to
each
other
and
therefore
really
comparing
the
programs—and
how
different
they
were,
actually,
became
such
an
interesting
part
of
the
week
for
our
girls.

Missouri
is
interesting,
politically:
You
have
[Senator]

Josh
Hawley
over
here,
and
then
you
have
[Representative]

Cori
Bush
over
here,
and
everybody
in
between.
A
lot
of
people
on
the
coasts,
maybe,
don’t
know
the
political
dynamic
of
Missouri,
and
that’s
interesting
to
us,
too.

How
did
you
select
the
specific
students
that
you
worked
with?
I
know
that
was
all
decided
ahead
of
filming.
So
how
did
you
narrow
the
pool
down?

Moss:
We
were
scared
of
following
up

Boys
State,
because
those
kids
were
so
magnetic
and
complicated,
lovable
in
all
their
complicated
ways.
But
the
moment
we
started
talking
to
these
girls—it
was
about
four
months
before
that
[Girls
State]
week
started,
on
Zoom—we
realized
we
were
going
to
find
exceptional
kids.
I
like
to
say
that
they
really
cast
themselves
amongst
the
many
hundreds
that
we
talked
to.
I
think
that
they
all
have
a
unique
combination
of
confidence
and
sophistication
and
ambition,
politically,
but
also
a
vulnerability
and
an
openness
of
spirit
to
invite
the
camera
in,
but
still
be
themselves.
That’s
quite
unique,
I
think.

Emily
[Worthmore]
says
she’s
going
to
run
for
president.
I’ve
never
had
a
teenager
announce
that
to
me,
and
she
was
incredible.
So
we
then
visited
in-person.
I
went
to
prom
in
Eldon,
Missouri,
as
part
of
our
immersive
casting
journey.
We
went
to
band
practice
with
Emily.
We
did
it
all.
It’s
a
great
project
in
its
own
right;
it’s
like
an
ethnography
of
teenage
girlhood.
They
would
show
us
their
rooms,
what’s
on
their
walls,
their
medals,
their
trophies,
their
plaques,
all
of
it.

McBaine:
Confidence
is
the
other
key
part
of
this,
because
they
are
so
young,
and
our
project
is
intense,
and
Girls
State
is
intense.
Are
they
going
to
thrive
in
the
session
of
the
program,
let
alone
having
a
camera
follow
them
through
that?
So
it’s
really
important
that
we
do
our
due
diligence
and
they
do
theirs,
and
we
have
a
really
good
relationship
with
them,
their
families,
and
the
program,
when
everything
gets
started—
because
it
goes
fast.

There’s
an
inherent
vulnerability
to
these
students,
and
to
the
program
itself,
that’s
only
enhanced
by
putting
a
camera
on
them.
They’re
kids,
and
they’re
figuring
themselves
out,
and
you
don’t
necessarily
want
to
put
them
in
uncomfortable
positions
either
now
or
later
in
life
when
they
watch
this
film.
How
did
you,
as
filmmakers,
approach
that
challenge
and
responsibility?

McBaine:
I
couldn’t
have
been
the
subject
of
a
documentary
as
a
teenager.
I
was
still
working
out
who
I
was,
and
what
I
thought.
These
kids
do
have
an
ability
to
look
in
the
mirror
and
not
fall
apart,
on
some
level,
and
they
know
they’re
still
growing.
They
have
a
sense
of
humor
about
themselves,
to
be
honest.
And
now
that
these

Boys
State
guys
are
in
their
twenties
or
something,
now
they’re
real
adults
with
real
jobs,
they
love
having
this
document
of
that
time.
One
of
the
reasons
we’re
so
drawn
to
this
group,
over
and
over
and
over
again,
is
because
they
are
still

open.
People,
when
they
view
this
film—the
adults
in
the
audience,
the
little
kids
in
the
audience,
the
grandmothers
in
the
audience—you
[know
you]
are
watching
high
schoolers,
and
everybody
brings
that
view
to
what
is
being
said.
None
of
the
laughs
in
our
film
are
laughing

at
the
kids.

Also,
by
the
way,
part
of
our
process
is
sharing
the
film
in
rough
cut
form
to
all
the
kids,
because
that’s
critical
for
our
process.
We
want
everybody
to
be
psyched
to
be
on
stage
with
us
at
the
premiere.

Moss:
I
would
just
add,
we
built
a
much
more
female
crew.
Particularly
the
camera
operators,
it
was
important
to
pair
these
young
women
with
female
cinematographers.
We
felt
like
the
gaze
and
the
relationship
was
a
way
of
being
sensitive
to
the
questions
you’re
raising.
I
also
feel
like
the
audience
can
sense
that
intuitively,
and
that
we
can
make
promises
and
stipulations,
but
ultimately
I
think
the
evidence
of
that
relationship
is
embedded
in
the
film.

When
we
shot

Girls
State…the
country’s
polarization
was
ever
more
extreme.”

Having
spent
so
much
time
with
these
kids,
and
all
of
the
questions
that

Girls
State
brings
up
about
girlhood
and
our
political
system,
what
do
you
find
yourself
reflecting
on
most
as
this
film
goes
out
into
the
world?

McBaine:
There’s
so
much
fortitude
that’s
on
display
here.
There
are
limitations
and
they’re
very
real,
and
there’s
been
slow
progress
in
female
representation
in
politics,
but
it’s
slow.
To
me,
that’s
one
of
the
many
unfinished
promises
of
our
country.
I
can’t
do
a
lot
to
change
that,
other
than
to
keep
pushing,
and
in
my
small
way,
by
storytelling.

My
takeaway,
though,
in
hanging
out
with
these
young
people,
is
they’re
undaunted,
and
they
have
this
fresh
energy
and
this
mission—Gen
Z,
in
particular—to
push
back
against
the
negativity,
I
guess,
of
how
my
generation
and
Boomers
are
feeling
about
our
country.
They
hold
the
reality
but
the
optimism.
It
makes
me
remember
that
that’s
actually
how
I
feel,
too,
about
our
country:
Very
critical,
but
also
I
still
believe
in
the
promise.

Moss:
There
is
an
optimism
without
naïveté
that
we
need
to
see,
because
if
we’re
going
to
have
a
political
future
that
sustains
our
democracy,
we
need
a
generation
that
does
things
differently,
and
still
has
hope,
despite
all
of
the
existential
threats
we
face.

As
a
man
making
this
film,
there’s
a
way
in
which
it
has
made
visible
to
me
some
structures
that
are
normally
invisible
or
perhaps
I
choose
to
look
away
from.
And
I’m
embarrassed
to
say,
but
frankly
I
was
shocked
to
discover
that
the
funding
levels
of
[Missouri
Boys
State
and
Girls
State
were]
not
equal,
and
I
do
think
it
mirrors
a
structural
inequality
in
our
society.
We
know
that.
But
I
think
to
be
reminded
of
it,
and
to
let
you
make
that
discovery
through
the
eyes
of
someone
like
Emily
is,
to
me,
the
power
of
this
film.
The
power
of
going
on
a
journey
with
her
is
to
see
her
see
those
things,
and
to
feel
them.
Because
we
know
if
we’re
going
to
change
people,
move
people,
they
need
to
feel
something,
too.

This
interview
has
been
edited
and
condensed
for
clarity.