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My Dad sends me pictures of the trees and flowers in his yard back home.
Sometimes they are pink.
Sometimes they are white.
Sometimes, it’s just pictures of the evergreen trees and their never-changing leaves.
Today, they are purple.
Purple . . πŸ’œ

I was bullied a lot as a kid.
I was teased for having too much hair on my head.
I was teased for being too big for my age.
I was teased for being too strong for a girl.
I was teased for getting good grades.
I was teased for being quiet.
I was teased for the joy I had for reading.
I was teased for being too dark in the melanin of my skin.
I was teased for the foreign trace of my heritage.

I don’t forget any of it.
I still remember some of their faces.
I remember how I got even bigger and taller than them.
I remember how I didn’t use that against them.

We all respond to everything in different ways.
And I am glad that I didn’t stoop to their level and allow their dirt to contaminate the beauty of my being.
And even though I grew up in a very different era, I pray that anyone who has been affected by that kind of senseless hate can grow and rise and flourish in their own beauty, despite all of that negative energy…