Not for lack of trying. One of the first lessons many of us learn in life, from our very first steps, is that we must face our problems head on. Our problems define us, and they determine how successful we are in every endeavor we pursue. But that isn’t the case here. This was as much about being seen. It was more about being felt. It was about the lack of support and validation that we could see that so many of our peers were able to receive from their families and friends. It was about the idea that we all are struggling, no matter our skin color. But when these kids are put into a “black” bucket and told, “You’re not like the other kids,” it isn’t about individuality. It’s about being judged. It’s about stereotypes. It’s about fear. Even if you knew nothing else about the other kids at that school besides what you saw on TV or what you read in a newspaper article, you wouldn’t be able to avoid understanding that these kids, especially the ones who’d come from broken homes and unstable living situations, were in desperate need of help. And in many cases, it’s not the schools or the communities at fault. It’s a combination of people who need to find it in themselves to care for these young people, and young people who need to know it’s okay to express what’s inside them. It’s our responsibility as a society to do what we can to teach them to be confident and strong so that they will not only be better able to deal with their own problems, but because we can learn from them as well. When you are in a situation where you are constantly reminded that you are not like all the other kids, it’s hard not to start looking at the other kids differently. To fear them. To hate them. To pity them. The truth is that we don’t want to be treated differently because of our skin color. But we also want the people who are around us to not be afraid to ask us questions when we are at our best and worst. The only way I’ve ever been able to keep my sanity is to know that every person I’ve encountered had my best intentions in mind. And while I know that’s not always the case, I can try to keep it in my mind when I walk into a school and the kids are staring at me and judging me as an outsider. I’ll never be the same color as them. But I can be the person that they never have in their lives. And that’s what I’m trying to be. Today, I saw a young girl with big cheeks. It was a beautiful day out, and she was a little sweaty from playing soccer outside with her friends. It was hard not to want to go to her, give her a big hug, and tell her how proud I was to see her making her family proud. It was hard not to have a bond with this girl because of all that we have in common. But because of all that we have in common, I wanted to embrace her as a friend. It was hard not to want to be that girl’s mom. If you have never walked into a school where it’s immediately obvious that everyone is more cautious than you. It was not only because of the environment, but also because the kids in that school seemed to want to move in every direction but forward. But then there was one who just could not stop smiling. One of the best parts about being the father of a 5 year old is getting to listen to her conversations with her toys. As she tells them about her day, or a big win at the gym, or even if it’s a dream she had, the smile on her face is infectious. And when she gets excited about something, even if the rest of the world around her is not excited about it, you can be sure that she is. The lesson I’m learning from my little girl, especially as the two year anniversary of her being diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes approaches this fall, is that life is a celebration. Not only a celebration of today, but of everything we have gone through to be here. She has endured so much just to reach the age of 5. Today was just another day for her to make a friend at school, but a few months ago, this may not have been the case. Before she got sick, she was being bullied. It was hard for me to get to the end of the day and have her tell me that she was bullied. I could feel her pain and sense her loneliness. Life has been painful for her, but it has also been beautiful. In some ways, I have also been a lot of those kids who are bullied. I went to a school that focused heavily on academic achievement, which didn’t leave a lot of room for kids who were bullied for being different. The bullying that I endured happened while I was in middle school and high school, but I know that I’m not the only one who’s ever dealt with something similar. And that makes me so incredibly thankful for the world that we live in today, and the fact that you can’t hide who you are. Today, I saw a little girl in front of the school bus wearing pigtails. I wanted to go up and talk to her, but she started crying after she realized that I was looking at her, so I couldn’t say hello. And then I saw her run back into the building behind her house. Maybe I wasn’t the one to help her. But I can only imagine how much it would have hurt if I hadn’t let her walk away. I have to be careful when I see pictures of me when I was her age. I want to look back and ask why I felt so alone. Why I never spoke to anyone at school because it was the last place I wanted to be. Why I never spoke to anyone at school because it was the last place I wanted to be. I’m sure that this girl, even if she looks back at her school days, didn’t ask herself that question. And it’s okay not to. No one has a magical answer for the young people who are bullied. But I do believe there is a better way for us to talk about this problem. Sure, we shouldn’t be afraid to call out bullying. I’m sure, for some people, they understand that in an instant, so why can’t everyone see that? It’s only when I can explain to people why I don’t know how to deal with my anger and frustration, or why I want to see the person who put my head into a washing machine, or why I want to punch a bully in the face, that I can understand the value of what our schools need to do. What good is it if we all sit around and wait for an answer? We already know the answer. We just need to start doing something about it. We need to stop asking our politicians to promise them jobs when they can’t do any one thing to make their situations any better. They need to commit to helping us create better environments where it’s okay to ask questions. And for the people who are being bullied, we need to stop waiting for them to open up. We need to give them permission to start standing up for themselves. And instead of focusing on the bullies, we should focus on the people who seem to be standing up for themselves in spite of their circumstances. The people who are so passionate about their journey, that it becomes contagious. We don’t have to walk through the world with our heads lowered. If I were to look at you and tell you that a woman walked up to me on the street the other day and asked, “What happened to the girl who used to come here?” I want you to know that it wouldn’t be easy for me to say that I had been bullied. I’m not willing to say it’s okay to be bullied, because I don’t agree with it. I don’t even like it, really. And then when I tell you that she was bullied by the very people who were supposed to protect her, it gets even worse. Because I can see the pain on your face. The fear of it happening again. And maybe that’s the part of bullying that I really find difficult to understand. How does someone grow to the point where they are so accustomed to being hurt that they believe that it’s part of the normalcy of their lives? I’ve seen your smiles. I’ve heard you singing in the hallway or giggling together in a circle, but you never invite me in. There’s no invitation for me to share your world. You’ve probably told me, and I didn’t even listen. How could I listen? I’m a stranger. I wish I could tell you what it’s like to be me, to feel like you. But I can tell you that in a few weeks, I will be watching my daughter smile and laugh while she dances around the room with her friends. And I will do my best to not worry about what is in store for them at school. Because right now, my focus is on being the best father I can be. And part of that is doing everything I can to see my daughter smile