let lemons be angry

I'm quite a small person. Petite. But when I was at my tiniest, I was the most fearless child ever. I was an only child who grew up among adults. So I never had any concept of how small I was.

When I was three years old, another little girl climbed on my father's back. I stood my ground and shouted, "Get down!"

When parents' friends came to the house, I went up to them and beckoned them with my hand to follow me into my room. When I saw new people, I would ask, "Who is this man?"

I found the kids in kindergarten noisy, prattling, and okay to play with but not essential to sit with all the time. I answered all the teachers' questions and knew more than any of them did. I invited all my teachers home for lunch, to my mother's shock. At church I was repeatedly disturbed by a teenage boy, and I went up to his mother to complain that her son was bullying me. She was highly impressed.

In primary one, one of the boys liked to push us tiny ones from behind as we went down the stairs. Looking back, I think he thought it was fun for us. And maybe some tiny boys found it fun. But I wasn't one to be pushed, and I told my mother. She said, "Push him back!"  (I guess this is where I got it from.) So the next day, before he could push me, I told him, "If you push me, my mother will come and push you down the stairs!"


Sometime between then and now, I lost that.

Maybe because I was suddenly surrounded by older children, prefects, who carried me and told me I was small and cute. Maybe because teachers always commented that I was quiet. And small. I learnt these things about myself I had never considered before. I learnt that there were many other kinds of people who wanted me to do things their way. And that making friends meant having to submit to other bigger, or bossier kids. So small is what I became.

Somehow I believe that fearless child is still inside me. That tiny tot to whom no adult or peer is a threat. She's deep inside, still telling people what she knows without self consciousness. Still standing up for rights and justice. She's a dormant volcano, who has come out only when desperately needed. On other days, she hides in a small voice and petite clothes and "you look so young!"s and "are you sure you can carry that?"s, the things people have defined and handicapped her with, that she's come to believe about herself.