Judy Blume basically changed everything for girls in 1970. She didn't do it with a manifesto or a political march, but with a skinny little paperback about a girl named Margaret Simon who just wanted to buy her first bra and figure out if God was actually listening to her. It’s a weirdly quiet book if you think about it. There’s no massive explosion or high-stakes mystery. It’s just... life. But that life—the messy, hormonal, confusing reality of being eleven going on twelve—was exactly what adults in the seventies (and frankly, many adults today) were terrified to talk about.
Margaret is moving from New York City to Farbrook, New Jersey. She’s anxious. She’s obsessed with whether she’s growing at the same rate as her friends. If you read it as a kid, you remember the "We must, we must, we must increase our bust" chant. It’s iconic. It’s also kinda cringey when you look back as an adult, but that’s the point. Blume captured that specific brand of pre-teen desperation that feels like life or death at the time.
The Religious Tug-of-War That Nobody Talks About
Most people focus on the puberty stuff when they talk about Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. That makes sense. It’s the "period book." But honestly, the core of the story is actually a deeply complex look at religious identity in America. Margaret has a Christian mother and a Jewish father. They decided to raise her with no religion at all, thinking they were doing her a favor by letting her choose when she grew up.
It backfired.
Instead of feeling free, Margaret feels untethered. She starts a private conversation with God because she has no formal way to interact with the divine. She’s "doing" an independent study on religion, visiting temples and churches, trying to find where she fits. It’s a heavy burden for a sixth grader. Her grandparents on both sides are, to put it bluntly, a bit of a nightmare about it. They use her as a pawn in their own theological baggage. When her maternal grandparents show up after years of silence just because they heard she might be "choosing," it’s one of the most heartbreaking moments in children's literature. It shows how religion is often less about faith and more about tribalism and family control.
Why the Banning Never Actually Stopped
You’ve probably heard that this book is one of the most challenged books in history. The American Library Association (ALA) has it on their lists constantly. Why? People claim it's "profane" or "immoral." But if you actually read the text, it’s incredibly wholesome. Margaret is a good kid. She cares about her friends. She’s honest.
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The real reason it gets banned is that it gives children agency over their own bodies and their own souls.
Conservative school boards in the 80s and 90s hated that Margaret talked to God without a priest or a rabbi as a middleman. They hated that she talked about menstruation as a physical reality rather than a "curse" or a shameful secret. Even today, in the 2020s, we see the book being pulled from shelves in certain districts. It’s a cycle. Every generation of "concerned parents" discovers that Judy Blume told the truth, and they panic. They worry that if girls know what’s coming, they’ll somehow lose their innocence. Blume’s argument has always been that you can’t protect innocence by withholding information; you just create fear.
The 2023 Movie and the Nostalgia Trap
For decades, Judy Blume said no to a movie. She didn't want it ruined. She didn't want a "shorthand" version of Margaret. But then Kelly Fremon Craig (who directed The Edge of Seventeen) came along. The 2023 film adaptation is a rare example of a movie actually understanding the source material's soul. Abby Ryder Fortson plays Margaret with this perfect, awkward sincerity, but the real surprise was Rachel McAdams as her mother, Barbara.
The movie adds a layer the book couldn't—the perspective of the mother. In the book, we only see Barbara through Margaret's eyes. In the film, we see a woman struggling with her own lost connection to her parents and the domestic pressure of the 1970s. It turned a "kids' story" into a multi-generational exploration of what it means to be a woman. It avoided the "nostalgia trap" by not making the 70s look like a costume party. It looked lived-in. It felt sweaty and anxious and real.
Menstruation as a Plot Point
Let’s talk about the pads. In the original 1970 text, Margaret has to deal with belts. Sanitary belts! It sounds like medieval torture to modern readers. For the 50th-anniversary editions and the movie, there’s always a debate about whether to update these details. If you change it to adhesive pads or tampons, do you lose the historical context?
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The 2023 movie kept the belts. It was a brave choice. It highlights just how much physical labor went into being a woman in that era. It also makes the "buying the pads" scene at the pharmacy feel even more high-stakes. The sheer bulk of the packaging, the shame the clerk projects, the confusion of the father—it all builds into this crescendo of adolescent anxiety.
The Science of Growing Up Too Fast (or Too Slow)
Margaret’s biggest fear is being the last one to get her period. In the book, her friend Gretchen gets it first, and Margaret is devastated. This reflects a very real psychological phenomenon. Dr. Louise Greenspan and Julianna Deardorff wrote a whole book called The New Puberty that dives into why girls are hitting milestones earlier now than they did in 1970.
But the emotional fallout is the same. Whether it’s 1970 or 2026, the "early bloomers" feel exposed and hyper-sexualized by a world they aren't ready for, while the "late bloomers" feel broken or left behind. Margaret is in that agonizing middle ground. She’s waiting for a sign that she’s becoming an adult, as if a biological function will suddenly grant her wisdom. Spoiler: it doesn't.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Ending
People remember the book ending with Margaret finally getting her period and being happy. They think it's a "happily ever after" for her puberty. That’s a total misunderstanding of the final pages.
The ending isn't about the blood. It's about the fact that Margaret had stopped talking to God. She was angry. She felt ignored because her life was messy and her family was fighting and her body wasn't changing on her schedule. When she finally gets her period, she doesn't just celebrate the physical change; she resumes her conversation with the divine. She says, "Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret. I just told my mother. I love you God. I really do."
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It’s a reconciliation. She realizes that growing up doesn't mean you have to stop seeking a connection to something bigger than yourself. It just means the conversation changes.
How to Revisit Margaret Today
If you’re a parent, a teacher, or just someone who hasn't thought about this book since the fifth grade, here is how you should actually approach it now.
- Read the 1970 original and the updated version. See if you can spot the subtle changes in how Margaret talks about her body. It’s a fascinating look at how our language for "growing up" has shifted.
- Watch the movie with a different lens. Don't just watch it for the kids. Watch Barbara (the mom) and Sylvia (the grandmother). Look at how the three generations of women handle rejection and belonging.
- Talk about the religion. Forget the periods for a second. Use the book as a jumping-off point to discuss how families handle different faiths. Margaret’s struggle to find a "place" is more relevant now than ever in our increasingly secular but spiritually hungry world.
- Stop censoring the "awkward." If you’re a parent and your kid is reading it, don't make it a "big talk." Just let them read it. The whole power of the book is that it’s a private experience between the reader and the page.
The brilliance of Judy Blume wasn't that she was a rebel. It was that she was a witness. She saw what it was like to be twelve and she didn't lie about it. That’s why we’re still talking about it fifty years later. We don't need more "perfect" stories for girls; we need more stories that admit that sometimes, you’re just standing in your room, doing exercises, and hoping someone, somewhere, is listening.
The next step is simple. Go to a physical bookstore. Find the middle-grade section. Buy a copy for someone who is currently eleven. Don't explain it. Just give it to them. They'll know what to do.