It always got to me. Even when I was young. I would hear someone say it, and all the hairs on the back of my neck would stand up. My muscles would tense up, too, and I couldn’t move. Like a statue cemented into the ground. I was mummified right then and there.
I’d tune out everything that fell from their mouths afterward. Imagine standing outside of a soundproof room where you can’t hear anything. That’s what it felt like. That one word would find its way into one of their sentences, and that was that for me.
“Write them off,” my mind would say. I still have a mental list of who’s said it to me, regardless of whether or not that’s beneficial for my psyche. That list is there, somewhere, filed away in a cabinet in my brain. It’s next to, “All The Bullshit I’ve Been Told,” written in red sharpie. It’s waiting there for when I need to be reminded that their opinions don’t amount to anything but jack shit. What a nice cabinet that is.
25 years. Two and a half decades. I’m not little anymore. Full-blown woman, university degree, and a soul that’s lived a hundred different lifetimes. I wasn’t little even when I was little. But now? Oh, ma’am… I am… anything but.
I remember the first time someone said it, and it struck a nerve.
“Get your little dolls!”
Something in me churned.
Little? What do you mean “little”? Are they “little” because I’m little or because they’re little? Or does this kind of “little” have nothing to do with size at all?
I was young— there’s no doubt about that— and I was short and small— there’s less of a doubt about that— but the way “little” rolled off their tongues and into my ears felt like burning hot wax. I was disturbed by the fact that someone could be audacious enough to consider what I liked small. At five years old I didn’t have the words to articulate what I felt, but I certainly do now.
Later on, the conversation matured alongside my age. Unfortunately, the descriptor did not.
“How’s your little boyfriend?”
I don’t understand? He’s a real person. He’s not an 11 inch tall plastic toy this time. He’s alive. What makes him little?
Or
“When are you starting that little job of yours?”
I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly? Please tell me you meant to say something else. Even if you have to lie to me right here and now. I don’t care, just lie to me.
But I heard them right every time. They’d use that word in all its demeaning connotation, and I’d file them away as we spoke.
Do I hate the word “little”? No, I use it all the time. It’s a relevant, useful word. It’s not that I’m advocating for people to omit it from their vocabulary, it’s that people don’t realize how entitled they seem when they use it in a degrading manner.
I always wanted to ask, “Can you elaborate? What do you mean by ‘little’? If you mean ‘small’, yes, my dolls are small. I can agree with that. Or if you mean ‘recent’, then yes, my boyfriend is rather recent— I can agree with that, too. Or if you mean ‘not the most financially rewarding’, then yeah, I can also get on board with that. But if you mean ‘not that significant’ or ‘frivolous’, or ‘trivial’, then please just say that. Don’t beat around the bush while I’m standing in the middle of it.”
I have always been very aware of how other people have tried to make me feel, whether they’ve consciously tried to make me feel a certain way or they’ve done so subconsciously. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how it’s done. If you can be so unaware of how you’re making someone else feel, that’s no one else’s doing but your own. It may be unintentional or a learned habit from someone else, but how you make people feel, in my opinion, is one of the most telltale signs of your character. And character is 100% homegrown.
Anything that I’ve liked— anything that I’ve gone after or actively created space for in my life has meaning, even when I myself don’t realize it. I don’t believe things just “happen”. I believe that people come into our lives for a reason, opportunities present themselves for a reason, and anything we are drawn toward or like is for a reason.
The dolls I played with when I was a young girl are still relevant in my life today. No, I don’t have barbies sitting in my closet or attic at 25, but playing with my dolls was where my ability to story-tell began. With 11 inch tall plastic toys. I created the most extensive storylines for these figurative characters, and I developed dynamics and relationships amongst every doll I owned. I would spend hours and hours on end being so entranced by these stories. Sitting in my room and letting my imagination fly— it was the first time I was the “creator” or “author” of anything.
Years later, I still spend hours and hours doing that same thing today. This time, though, I’m writing.
Nothing we do is little. Not the people we meet, the things we like, the places we go, the opportunities we seize. They all have meaning. They all matter in the grand scheme of… something, I’m just I’m not all-knowing enough to say what that “something” is.
I openly admit that it’s wrong to add people to a grudge list just because they used one simple word. I don’t recommend it to anyone, but at the same time, I want to make my younger self proud. I want her to know that even though she was young, there was nothing little about her. She had valuable thoughts, expansive ideas, and strong-rooted beliefs, and her age had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Today, I am very aware of how I support other people’s endeavors or interests. I know someone who has always wanted to be famous, and she sometimes asks me, “Do you think I can be famous one day?” I know most people think she has a really far-fetched dream, but I say “yes” every time she asks me. I don’t care what it is you have, want, or like. We all need someone to believe in us, see the possibilities within us. It takes one person. Just one.
I urge you to be mindful of how you frame your opinions when talking with other people about their individual choices. Especially the young ones. I wish I had a file full of people who said “big” or “important” instead of “little” to me, but like I said, everything happens for a reason. I suppose I’m stronger-willed because of them.
In honor of every doll I played with when I was “little”.
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