“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” It’s a sing songy phrase children were taught to use to “hit back” when they were made fun of, when they were being bullied.
I used it once when I was young and under verbal assault. I don’t remember what the insult was. I do remember thinking, “Yah, the magic little ditty? It isn’t doing anything for me.”
Imagine, I grew up a lover of words. A shaper. One of the reasons is because words were very important to me. English was not m y first language. I had to learn it to keep up, to belong, to be safe and to be the same. Each word added to my arsenal, my power to cope with what was around me. [Continue reading]