"BFF" is a short time
They slept over for her birthday and when they left, wearing the "BFF" bracelets she'd bought for them, LJ believed everything was great between her and her two buddies. But on the following Monday, back at school, those friends said they wanted to play with some other girls - a duo who don't like LJ and aren't shy about showing it. The same thing happened the next day... and the next... and the next. Hot on the heels of her 11th birthday party, LJ found herself friendless at school every single day for almost two weeks.
Yesterday, LJ's little buddies came back. Crestfallen, because their new playmates didn't want them around anymore. Abashed, having realised how poorly they'd treated LJ. Hopeful, because they've behaved this very same way before - last year, the year prior to that - and LJ had always taken them back without question. So they weren't really all that remorseful, just as remorseful as they figured was necessary. But this time they were in for a surprise.
"Let me ask you something," LJ replied. "If I'd done to you what you've done to me the last two weeks, would you take me back? No wait, let me give this some more context. If you'd invited me into your home - the one place in all the world where you felt you could truly be yourself, without hiding anything - and showed me your secret, true self, and then I'd ditched you without a word of explanation for two weeks, and then I came back sort-of-but-not-really apologising, would you take me back? So thanks for asking, but I'd rather keep playing on my own."
LJ told me all of this tonight, in a voice both shot through with pride and crumbling with grief. "I knew it was a risk, and that it could leave me without friends, but I just couldn't take it any more," she explained. "I'm sick of the way they treat me and the way it breaks me. I let them into my life - my really real life - just before they did this, so this feels like a judgment on me and who I really am. I'm angry about that and I just can't forgive it. Yes, I'm a kind person but my kindness has limits. They need to know where those limits are. I won't be pulled around on puppet strings by friendship."
And then she curled up in my arms and had a little cry.
I'm gobsmacked by her strength, her maturity, her eloquence and her poise. Not surprised by it, gobsmacked - by its intensity, its power, its self-awareness. LJ knew the potential consequences, accepted them and took action without regret, without remorse, without retreat. That's an incredibly brave thing for anyone, regardless of age, to do in the face of societal pressure. Staggeringly brave. I would not, at her age, have possessed the courage to stand up for myself as she has for herself.
Of course I'd give anything to be able to fix it for her; to make the phone call to parents or write the polite e-mail that causes discussions, prompts changes of heart and repairs friendships. And of course I'll do neither of those because it would greatly overstep the mark and benefit absolutely no one. So I'll hold her when she cries, watch Flash and NXT when she asks, buy her comics and play an epic game with her on Saturday. I'll quietly celebrate who she is. Because who she is? It's amazing.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF
Yesterday, LJ's little buddies came back. Crestfallen, because their new playmates didn't want them around anymore. Abashed, having realised how poorly they'd treated LJ. Hopeful, because they've behaved this very same way before - last year, the year prior to that - and LJ had always taken them back without question. So they weren't really all that remorseful, just as remorseful as they figured was necessary. But this time they were in for a surprise.
"Let me ask you something," LJ replied. "If I'd done to you what you've done to me the last two weeks, would you take me back? No wait, let me give this some more context. If you'd invited me into your home - the one place in all the world where you felt you could truly be yourself, without hiding anything - and showed me your secret, true self, and then I'd ditched you without a word of explanation for two weeks, and then I came back sort-of-but-not-really apologising, would you take me back? So thanks for asking, but I'd rather keep playing on my own."
LJ told me all of this tonight, in a voice both shot through with pride and crumbling with grief. "I knew it was a risk, and that it could leave me without friends, but I just couldn't take it any more," she explained. "I'm sick of the way they treat me and the way it breaks me. I let them into my life - my really real life - just before they did this, so this feels like a judgment on me and who I really am. I'm angry about that and I just can't forgive it. Yes, I'm a kind person but my kindness has limits. They need to know where those limits are. I won't be pulled around on puppet strings by friendship."
And then she curled up in my arms and had a little cry.
I'm gobsmacked by her strength, her maturity, her eloquence and her poise. Not surprised by it, gobsmacked - by its intensity, its power, its self-awareness. LJ knew the potential consequences, accepted them and took action without regret, without remorse, without retreat. That's an incredibly brave thing for anyone, regardless of age, to do in the face of societal pressure. Staggeringly brave. I would not, at her age, have possessed the courage to stand up for myself as she has for herself.
Of course I'd give anything to be able to fix it for her; to make the phone call to parents or write the polite e-mail that causes discussions, prompts changes of heart and repairs friendships. And of course I'll do neither of those because it would greatly overstep the mark and benefit absolutely no one. So I'll hold her when she cries, watch Flash and NXT when she asks, buy her comics and play an epic game with her on Saturday. I'll quietly celebrate who she is. Because who she is? It's amazing.
Greet the Fire as Your Friend,
SF