the valentine that made me brave

The first time I stood up for myself was on Valentine’s Day. I was in fourth grade.

I was being bullied by a boy we will call M. M was always picking on me nonstop. I would always hope he was sick, and so I wouldn’t have to deal with his harassment. If it wasn’t what I was wearing, it was how I was with my friends. He was the worst, most annoying little boy. I still remember how mad he would make me.

Anyway, it came to that time of the year where you had to give everyone in your class a valentines day card because one kid couldn’t be left out.

I begged my mother to please not make me give him a sweet valentines day card with a lollipop attached. They all said kind things on each card. And I knew he didn’t deserve to receive anything nice from me. She said no, I had to give him a card.

So how did I stand up for myself?

I decided to add a little something to the bottom of the card. I wrote:

P.S I hate you.

That felt like the only way for me to live with myself, by giving him a card.

I have always had a strong belief in being honest about how im feeling. Every time I have betrayed how I truly feel about a situation, it has eaten me alive. If it’s in my control, I do my best to reduce the number of times I feel like that.

He opens the Valentine during class. Reads it. Shows to his sidekick in shock.

Then, like a little bitch, he turns it into the teacher.

The teacher sent me to the principal’s office.

Then, I immediately start uncontrollably sobbing. Going to the principal’s office always sounded like the end of the world to me. I was very scared. I was a good kid back then. Cared a lot more about being on my best behavior. Something that later went away.

After I stopped crying and explained my position to the principal. My punishment wasn’t really that bad. I just had to write him a letter apologizing.

I didn’t want to do it. But I did.

When I think back to little nine-year-old me who did that, I feel very proud.

It reminds me of every time after that, I was once again brave enough to stand up for myself, even though I was punished. That part also taught me a lesson—that standing up for yourself and being truthful comes at a cost in our world.

They want you to be submissive. Just do what you’re asked and don’t complain. Be compliant. It’s so much easier not to speak your mind. It makes people uncomfortable when you're honest about how their actions hurt you. Not allowing others to disrespect you is a form of self-love, especially as a woman.

If I wrote down every time someone disrespected me, I could start a whole series. I had a version of this essay where I started doing that, but it felt too sad.

I rarely felt, until my late twenties, that people treated me with the respect I deserved. Most of my teenage years, I was looked down upon. Maybe it was the cost of being young. Either way, I was made fun of quite a bit. My peers talked shit about me.

People didn’t see my potential, so I doubted myself.

Today, my coworker asked how I was brave enough to say no to a project our boss recently pitched me. She said she has a hard time standing her ground. This is a common issue I’ve realized for most—most don’t want to be confrontational. Confrontation scares most. I wanted to give her a solution. She looked at me like I had the answer. I don’t know if I do. I think it’s easier for me because I’ve been practicing since I was a child, since that Valentine’s Day. She’s older and seems to have hardly any experience with this. The best advice I have is that practice makes perfect, as cliché as it is. The more you say no and stand up for yourself, the easier it gets. That’s the answer I gave her. And I added that it won’t always work out well. Some might call you difficult. I think that’s okay. Speaking your truth is more important, I believe.

Comedian Robby Hoffman, who I’ve followed for years, recently shared a quote I love in a podcast: “I have always liked who I am.” It’s simple, but it really resonated with me. It felt like an aha moment for why I’ve always felt more comfortable with myself.

I like who I am—most of the time. That feels brave to admit.

I believe I deserve to be treated with respect because I know what I deserve.

Which brings me to a few months ago, when I was broken up with very disrespectfully, and it was out of the blue. Some might say I was love-bombed.

I don’t really know what happened. It all moved very fast, but he decided we weren’t right for each other—that’s fine. I agree, we weren’t meant to be, but the way he spoke to me wasn’t okay. It was the first time in a long time I felt completely talked down to.

He said a reason he was ending things was that I wasn’t healthy, because I’m a homebody who enjoys watching TV over going on hikes. It made me feel like he was just being fatphobic—that he called me unhealthy based on appearance, not truth. I ended up storming out of the break-up conversation after trying to defend myself. He didn’t want to hear what I had to say, so I had to leave.

Stepping away is also sometimes necessary if speaking up doesn’t work.

Since then, I have told him he hurt me, and I deserve an apology, but he hasn’t given one. Digging inside to be brave isn’t always easy. I’m not claiming to be the bravest girl. I get scared a lot, too—the duality of being a woman. Asking for an apology took weeks before I sent the text, and being denied one stung deeper.

I thought he respected me, and it hurts. I thought I picked a good one.

Living today, I see how important it is to be brave enough to speak my mind—especially as a woman, as a queer woman, and now as a plus-size woman (as some call me).

If you don’t speak for yourself, others will speak for you. Others will judge you or put you in situations you don’t want. As long as you feel safe, you can speak up.

I wish for all women reading this to do more of that. Speak up! Take no shit!

When I think about Valentine’s Day, I don’t think first about romance.

I think about a nine-year-old girl who loved herself enough to tell the truth.

P.S I still do.