I’d change the world if I could.
I’d change the leaders.
I’d change the wealthy.
I’d change the privileged, the powerful, the educated.
I’d change the poor.
I’d change the sick.
I’d change the hungry, the lonely, the lost.
I’d change the suffering.
I’d change the death.
I’d change the fear, the worry, the stress.
I’d change the stereotypes.
I’d change the prejudice.
I’d change the minds, the eyes, the hearts.
But if I could change one thing…
I’d change the hate that created those thin scars on my little sister’s legs, the ones that people normally see on the arms of the “troubled youth.” I’d change that hate she heard from others, the hate that called her “fat.” I’d change the hate she adopted, the hate she felt inside, the hate she gave herself with every paper-thin slice. I’d change the hate that fills my chest, and stings behind my eyes. I’d change that hate that screams inside me, “Go punch that girl that made her cry.”
I’d change that hate. I don’t know how. But I’d do it if I could.
Because every big sister defends her own, and for me – that includes the world.