In The Spotlight

Leafy- Righting Wrongs

The three stories I'm about to explain, all pertain to today, and the events that happened afterward.

The first happened when I was 4.

August 7th, 1994. The Sunday before I was set to start preschool.

There's a saying that 20, 30 years down the line, the only thing you will remember from something is how it made you feel.

I never have experienced that. I cling to every word like a popcorn kernel you can't quite unstick from your teeth. I store each and every thing I hear and see into my long term memory.

No, I don't have a photographic memory. I can't tell you what I had for lunch 3 weeks ago.

But I remember the important stuff.

My mother, father, and I walked into my pre-k orientation, (back when we were still a family) where for once the attention was on me. My mom saw the kids playing with trains and noticed there were no alphabets to be seen and turned on her heels to leave.

"Mommy, it's not done yet!" I yelled, pointing back in the building. They weren't listening. Instead, they were whispering amongst themselves, spelling some things out instead of saying them normally so I wouldn't understand.

They decided then and there that I'd skip to kindergarten.

I was young in my class, but I was smart so it was okay. My teacher had me tested for gifted based on my extreme acceleration. I got in.

It's not as cool as you might think, honestly.

They keep telling you from the time you need a step stool to see over the bathroom counter that you're special. You spend all that time worrying about what you need to be in order to live up to it all that you forget to be a kid.

I never got to be a child for a lot of reasons, but that one didn't help. I chose to look to the future, even though I didn't know what I would do then.

Until I did.

February 19th, 2003. Age 12. The day I learned how injustice feels.

I woke up that morning, I recall, excited about the new clothes I bought myself with my Christmas money at the mall- this was when those were still a place teenagers went to. Eve was as well. We had both went out with some friends the day before. Bought some stuff, then went to a movie. Totally harmless.

At this point, our parents had been divorced about 4 months. We were at our dad's house.

We went downstairs in our new outfits, gushing over how cute we were. (We were pretty cute back then. I didn't know it at the time but quite a few dudes definitely had the hots for middle school Leafy, looking back.) I had a cool new jacket that I couldn't stop playing with the zipper of. She wore a snazzy tank top, similar to the one I had on under my jacket. Not cropped or too small, but mature, especially compared to her old Claire's apparel. She looked chic in it. I grabbed a pop tart package, and offered to split it.

That was when dad walked in.

He looked pretty out of it. Still half asleep. He flicked on a light and all of our eyes shut tight as a shrew's.

But once his eyes opened and he saw what we wore, he said something that crossed the line.

"Eve, you're in eighth grade, why are you dressed like a skank? You might as well just go get knocked up." He didn't even look her in the eyes, he was so casual. It was like saying those vile words came easily to him.

I watched her take a shaky breath, and calm herself. "Sorry. I can change."

It was too late. Something ignited in me that had been sitting dormant for years. "No! Dad, no! You can't make her change when it's just like what I'm wearing. Look-" I paused to remove my jacket and show my tank. "See! No different!"