They say it helps to tell the story
To get it out and lay it bare
They say it helps to talk about it
To find a safe environment to share.
So I’ve been thinking about my story
And about what I would say
I’ve been thinking about those memories
That for so long have been packed away.
I guess for me the story starts
That year my body began to change.
When my dresses were too short
And those special parts started looking strange.
I’m not sure how it’s supposed to happen
But I now know it’s not supposed to be
That your dorm dad makes you feel uncomfortable
When he comments on what he sees.
I’m not sure how it’s supposed to happen
But I now know it’s not okay
To not feel comfortable when he comes in
To say goodnight at the end of the day.
I’m not sure how it’s supposed to happen
But I now know that when you’re sad
It’s okay to feel that deep down inside–
That tears are really not that bad.
It wasn’t anything big…or so I thought at the time…
But in more than one way that year
He made me feel like my body was the problem
And he couldn’t care less about my tears.
I got in trouble for breaking the rules
Because my Sunday shoes didn’t fit–
Like penalizing a kid for the size of her feet
Is in any way legit.
My dresses didn’t fit that year
So I had to do some extra chores
Because the rules said that short skirts
Were always–and only ever–the first step to being a whore.
But my shoes didn’t fit and my dresses were short
Because I went through a growth spurt.
Instead of celebrating the fact that I was growing
I felt ashamed, I got in trouble, and my self-confidence was hurt.
That year laid the groundwork
For a wounded self esteem.
I came to believe that I was a problem
That God—lucky for me—might choose to redeem.
I didn’t know why I didn’t feel beautiful
Why I always wanted to hide,
Why I never felt strong enough–
Never felt like anyone was on my side.
Many, many years later
As I sat with a therapist and cried
She asked me what I’d say to that child–
To that part of me I felt had died.
First of all, I think I’d say–
You’re a CHILD
It’s your job to play in the dirt and laugh
To cry, to pretend, and sometimes to be wild.
You were sent away to boarding school
And expected to grow up fast
But you’re a CHILD, and now is the time
To play, to dance–to find hobbies that will last.
Those emotions you feel–
Both the good and the bad–
They’re part of what it means to be human…
So BE HAPPY. BE MAD. Even be sad.
Your body is a special treasure
With all its shapes and curves
Feeling shame and wanting to hide it
Is NOT what you deserve.
Your needs are real so feel free to name them–
It’s okay to want adults’ attention.
Growing out of clothes and shoes
Is no reason for detention.
Most of all I think I’d say
To that child of 8 or 9
Seek out that greatness within you
You do not have to hold the party line.
Find your own voice, do your own thing
Don’t try so hard to blend in
You are special, you are unique
Being YOU is not a sin.