THE truth, I believe, is out there. Wait, before you grab your tin foil hat and head for shuttle, I should explain: there’s no X in the files I’m about to open. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to one day meet our lizard overlords, if only to find out how to lick my own eye. Meantime, I’m pretty confident our own intrepid species has enough stories to tell to keep me entertained – even without the prehensile tails.

Human stories are, after all, our shared history. They’re the thread of a book we connect with; they’re the inspiration behind art we admire; they’re even to blame for us not being rid of soap operas quite yet. And their universality is their strength: none less important or less valuable, only less heard. One organisation though is currently setting out to give voice to a rich seam of those stories, traditionally overlooked and undervalued.

The Glasgow Girls Club is a local addition to a global equation: girls plus dedicated support equals a healthier, fairer society. Founded in 2013 by Amy Rewcastle, the Girls Club provides opportunities for young women to explore their creativity, connect with others, and reach their potential through girl-led workshops and educational programmes. With the First Minister as honorary chairperson, Amy and the team are in good company to engage with teenage girls from under-represented areas across the city, and involve them fully in the shaping of their futures and that of the world around them. An impressive remit for any fledgling enterprise.

But the Royston branch of the organisation isn’t a lone soldier in the battle to champion young women in a somewhat hostile society. Clubs in Mexico, Nepal and Sierra Leone have grown out of the same principle foundations and together form Glasgow Clubs Worldwide, inspired and driven by the original outfit, Lower Eastside Girls Club in New York. With a purpose-built centre and programmes that include social justice, civic engagement, and astrophysics in their very own planetarium, the New York branch is a force to be reckoned with. And I reckon its 20-year history of investing in the lives of young women and the diverse communities in which they develop is definitely a force for good.

In a few weeks’ time, the extraordinary 35,000sq ft facility and its American cohort will play host to the club’s international contingent, as girls from around the world descend – or, geographically, ascend – on its imposing doorstep for the inaugural Girls Club Worldwide Summit. And, without meaning to homogenise, I’m happy to report that the Glasgow Girls Club are no different. Only, of course, they are entirely different because, instead of using the trip, as I’ll admit I would, to get sights seen and duties freed, the three girls representing Scotland’s input are intent on using it a lot more productively, by starting a project with more reach than a go-go-gadget arm.

Conceived by the young women at its helm, 400 Million Girls is a documentary, produced by girls, about girls, and for, well, whoever wants to watch it really. And I think that’ll be more than just a homogametic audience. At only 16, 14 and 13 years old, Shelby, Michaela and Hayley aim to use the incredible opportunity of their first New York visit to discover and record as many of the unique stories of the girls they meet, both at the summit and all across the city that boasts insomnia among its main traits. Talk about mature? Funded by a Kickstarter campaign that is already igniting the imaginations – and generosity – of backers, the three young film-makers will next month sound the clapperboard on what they hope will be the most extensive collection of girls’ stories ever told – or at least since the Bunty disbanded.

If you’re a regular reader, you’ll recognise this as the point at which I segue into how exactly I got forcibly in on the act. While I’m expert-level Glasgow, my girl credentials ran out somewhere in the 90s and I’ve never had the necessary documentation for renewal. But the ever-resourceful Shelby devised a plan for this pooper to successfully gatecrash the party, with a little bit of citizen journalism and a lot of not going to New York.

Camera in hand then and recent vlogging practice in mind, I embarked on my own adventure, which, let’s face it, pales in comparison to even the peely-walliest element of the girls’ upcoming expedition. For me, instead of the glamour of Manhattan it was the grandmas of Carntyne as – rather than 13- to 17-year-old Americans – I was charged with interviewing the more mature ladies of my hometown for a standalone piece in the project’s catalogue and a monologue for the upcoming launch event. But even that, for this recovering sociophobe, was as frightening as tinfoil to a turkey.

Even just knowing where to start was a roadblock. I mean, short of hitting up Tinder or taking to the streets with a humbug and a net, where does one go to film older ladies these days? And, I can assure you, that’s not the kind of question you want to ask Google. I was stumped.

Then I remembered Mecca. No, I didn’t head east for a spiritual awakening; I headed west, to the local bingo hall, where a gaggle of gamblers had gathered outside to top up the nicotine levels before the session began. I approached somewhat tentatively, obscuring the camera with a strategically placed handbag, hopeful not to scare my mark away.

Smiling more maniacally than intended, I launched into a hastily prepared spiel about how important it was that they talk to me about growing up as a girl. The response? An only-half-joking accusation that I was from “the social” and the kind of scattering that only chemical warfare should provoke. I won’t pretend it was slightly demoralising but a passing dog walker had already inspired my next location.

By the time I left the park, I had four moving recordings on the collective experience of women, and a relationship with a swan that bordered on abusive. After the initial disappointment of the Great Bingo Shunning of 2016, I was genuinely overwhelmed by the response from fellow females, who opened up to the camera about their youthful insecurities, and how they managed to move beyond them, with great honesty and a genuine desire to encourage young women they would probably never meet.

When asked what advice they would give to their teenage selves and those watching, the replies ranged from a steely warning to stay out of trouble to an emotional appeal to just be the person that makes you happy, but each one including the message that, with time and support, it almost always gets better.

And, as human truths go, I think that’s one that should most definitely be out there.

To support 400 Million Girls, visit www.kickstarter.com/projects/228165815/400-million-girls-the-film-you-start-their-stories