Squirrel Woman.

Two little words that sound kind of ridiculous on their own, with no context. Certainly not as powerful in your ears as some words many kids (and adults) have to deal with today. But for years, those two words shaped my world. They shaped me.

When we talk about bullying, we usually ask ourselves, "How can we stop it? What can we do?"

I asked myself that for six years. I asked my parents. I pleaded with them, "Tell me what to do! How do I make it stop?!" Usually with tears streaming down my face. And everyone had an idea. Teachers, parents, friends. They all said something. And most often it was, "Don't let them know it bothers you."

But how do you hide something that's killing you on the inside? How do you hear those words, that you're ugly and worthless and unwanted, and laugh it off?

I tried it. For six years, I tried it. On the bus. At school. At friends' parties. And when you have a class of 12 people, your abusers get invited to every party. Some days I'd laugh along. Some days I'd wear the right clothes, talk to the right people, bond and joke with my abusers when I got them alone. 

But it never stopped. And I just couldn't figure out why.

I was doing what I was supposed to--what people told me to do--so why didn't they do what they were supposed to do and get bored with it?

One day it did finally stop: The day after I graduated and I never saw them again.*

None of my tricks ever worked. It was time that finally brought me my freedom.

I wish I could say something else to the people being abused today. I wish I had an answer, besides waiting it out. I know I would have hated this advice if anyone had given it to me during my six years of abuse. I spent those nights, crying on the floor, just wanting to die, too. It seems unending and the idea of waiting can crush every last hope a person has. 

But here's the thing I learned: We can't change those who abuse and mock and torment. I tried it every day of those six years and the disappointment--the failure--came closer to killing me than the abuse did. I now know I was a non-entity, in many ways, to them. I was just a means to an end. So long as they have friends to laugh at the things they do or say, what you do in response will never matter.

If anyone reading this is going through abuse today, let it shape you into a kinder, wiser, more empathetic person. That's how we change the world. We take these moments and let them grow us into better people. It is crushingly hard right now, I know. But it will end. Let me repeat: It will end. I know I would not have believed that when I was in the middle of it all. I never thought an end would come and I didn't know if I had the strength to wait for it. 

But it does come and it is worth the wait.

*I actually do see one of them now. The worst abuser of them all. He's grown up now and so have I. We're friends, believe it or not. :)

Emily White