She Had Pink Hair and a Pink Sweater

She was around nine or ten when she approached me with a shy smile.

“Frederik speaks very good English for his age,” she said. “I’ve been around, heard him a couple of times, and I thought to myself, he’s really good.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You see, Frederik’s mother tongue is English.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Very cool.” She nodded.

I started walking, preoccupied with a lingering thought—had I set my parking timer? But then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a pink jacket following me.

“I’m normally close to smaller kids because they ask for my help when someone bullies them, you know. I fight for them. And then the bullying stops. I’m good at fighting. Because when I was doing karate, I was bullied too.”

I stopped walking. I gave her my full attention. She smiled, and it broke my heart.

“Bullying someone is really not okay,” I said softly. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

She zipped and unzipped her pink jacket. Up and down. Up and down.

“They called me ‘gay’ and said I was ‘weird.’ They called me names, and it hurt, you know. I wasn’t really happy after that, so I left the club. I’m okay now. I’m alone sometimes, but I’m okay. I just walk around here during breaks.”

“Do you have friends here at school?” The mother in me was worried.

“I have a best friend. But when she’s not around, I just walk around alone.”

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her magnetic marbles and offered them to Frederik. “Do you want to feel them?”

I stopped walking. She stopped at the same time.

I looked at her and said, “There is nothing wrong with being gay, you know. You get me? Nothing wrong.”

I received the most priceless smile—one that reached her eyes.

This small, innocent conversation with this little pink-haired protector of smaller humans now sits in the top five most genuine and insightful conversations I have ever had.