Don’t be a wuss, Stand up, say “No”

I’m just a girl who can’t say “no.”

Wait, on second thought, I take that back. I can… I’m just a girl who can’t say “no.”

Wait, on second thought, I take that back. I can definitely say “no” to some things. I can say a big fat “no” to gross propositions, doing the Macarena in any situation and eating bugs.

But mostly, I’m the girl who doesn’t stand up for myself, makes excuses for others and doesn’t know when to put my foot down. Sometimes I’m entirely too laid back for my own good.

I was about 7-years-old when my brother “accidentally” shot me with an arrow. We were at a family friend’s house, and I remember frolicking through his field when I was struck in the leg and went down like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Granted, the arrow had a dull, rounded tip, but on my delicate skin, it formed an instantly huge bruise. My brother ran to my aid and, after making sure I wasn’t dead, begged me not to tell our parents. I agreed. Find me a 7-year-old who agrees not to tell on her older brother at any given opportunity and I’ll solve the problem of world peace.

About a week after that, my mom caught a glimpse of the hideous bruise, and the bow-and-arrow set was confiscated. But I never ratted out my brother. I think that’s where my complex began. Thanks a lot, big brother.

When I was about the same age, my parents would drop my brother and me off at my grandmother’s house when they went to choir practice. At the time, my aunt was living with my grandmother and so was her dog, which had a fetish for my leg.

Now, “Freddy” didn’t hump just anyone. Nope, just little old me. The solution to the problem wasn’t putting Freddy downstairs or letting him go outside. No, the logical answer seemed to be found in laying a child-proof gate over my legs.

That’s right. Don’t put the stupid dog away; just lay this gate over the child’s legs so that she spends the evening unable to move from the couch and play – just so Freddy won’t hump her. Did I ever speak up? No way. I would quietly sit on the couch all evening, watching my brother play with all the great toys stashed at Gram’s.

This demeanor followed me through elementary school and into the dreaded middle-school years. This was when I decided to cut my hair to approximately one-inch long and wear those huge wide-leg jeans and oversized T-shirts that looked really cool. Right. My best friend was a closeted gay boy and we had tons of common traits, including our little boy appearances.

The two of us sat together at lunch, alone at a table, and together we endured a horrifying middle-school lunch experience. We were relentlessly picked on, and not once did we stick up for ourselves. He moved to another school district when we entered high school, and I was left to fend for myself. My hair grew out, the braces came off, and lo and behold, the same people who had been my tormentors made me their senior class president and voted me onto Homecoming Court.

Sure, I had a rough adolescence, but I would never go back and change the way I was treated. It has given me the ability to look at things from all sides, to empathize and to relate to others.

But I will never be able to go back and change the way my best friend was treated. The ridicule that he faced because of his sexual preference was 10 times more difficult than any I have ever endured. And I will never be able to go back in time and take a stand for him, perhaps when it mattered the most.

We went to prom together and he is still my best friend. He goes to a college nearby and we keep tabs on each other. If anyone would say a negative word to him today I would bite her head off. I know that he would do the same for me.

That’s because we had to realize that there is a time and place to put your foot down, to stand up for yourself – or your best friend, and to yell “no” in the face of adversity.

I had to realize that compromising my beliefs and taking the easy way out did not lead to happiness. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. Ultimately, don’t feel bad about saying “no.” You have a right to feel the way you do, and everyone’s entitled to stand her ground without justifying her beliefs.

When I find myself forgetting this valuable lesson I’ve learned, I’m reminded of something I was once told.

“If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.”

So stand up for yourself, and those who really matter will be there to catch you if you fall.

E-mail Jessica at jrp32@pitt.edu