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Even after nearly fifty years, Judy Blume continues to make waves in the literary world with a new release. However, her legacy seems to be dimming—at least from my daughter’s perspective. My whimsical 10-year-old is a born reader, and while she eagerly devours everything from Tuck Everlasting to Junie B. Jones, she has yet to discover the wonder of Judy Blume’s novels.
By the time I was my daughter’s age, I had already inhaled Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. I felt like I had gained entry into an exclusive club—one that only those who had read Blume’s books could truly understand. There was this girl in my fifth-grade class, the one who always wore white knee socks and seemed a bit odd to me at the time. She was reading Blubber, and suddenly, I saw her in a new light. She recognized the real-life Wendy in our classroom, and it felt like we shared a secret language. We couldn’t change our class Wendy, but we both knew she’d eventually face the consequences of her actions.
And Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret? Oh my goodness! I read that book twice before it was due back at the library. When I finally bought my own copy through Scholastic, I would skip watching Gilligan’s Island reruns with my siblings just to read alone in my room. Surrounded by my Holly Hobbie dolls and sipping grape Kool-Aid, I was entranced by the fact that someone had articulated my innermost thoughts. I even dreamed of meeting Judy Blume, believing she would be just as eager to chat with me as I was with her.
One reason I connected so deeply with Blume’s stories was my upbringing in a strict fundamentalist Christian household. At 10, I was told we couldn’t watch movies or wear pants—only skirts! The irony? My mother had been Catholic and we had landed in this church through a friend. We often felt like outsiders, observing the world through a different lens. As I grew older, the church’s silence on topics like sex and growing up left me feeling isolated. I rebelled with the only skorts I could find in the early ’80s, and as my body began to change, I felt a kinship with Margaret. She was my guide through the confusing landscape of adolescence.
I want my daughter to have that experience—to understand that countless girls before her have navigated the same questions about growing up. But I’ll be patient. Everyone develops at their own pace, and maybe she just isn’t ready for these stories yet. Or perhaps it’s simply because I—her so-called “uncool” mom—recommended them. Either way, she’ll meet Ms. Blume when the time is right. After all, it took her three years of listening to the Beastie Boys before she finally appreciated their music.
In the meantime, if you’re on a similar journey, you might find helpful insights in some of our other articles. For instance, check out things like how to navigate home insemination or explore resources about pregnancy at Mount Sinai’s excellent guide.
Summary
Judy Blume’s legacy remains vital as she continues to resonate with readers across generations. Despite my daughter’s current indifference to her works, I hope she will eventually discover the profound wisdom Blume offers about growing up. The journey through adolescence is one filled with questions, and Blume’s books serve as a comforting guide for young readers.