“Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke.” (Benjamin Disraeli)

When I was in first grade, there was a kid named Russell, a short, precocious, round little redhead with a crimson complexion, who sat behind me and was forever getting into trouble. He seemed determined to make life miserable for our teacher and anyone who dared challenge his self-appointed role as Jack Merridew from Lord of the Flies.

One day during art, Russell took a black crayon and began feverishly scribbling a giant “X” on the classroom floor beneath his desk, like a junior Zorro leaving his mark. When our teacher came over to reprimand him, Russell shot up, bellowed “NO!” and took off running around the classroom before making his escape through the classroom door. And just like that, he was gone, leaving his performance for the rest of us to behold.

Russell’s rebellious act has stayed with me for decades, which is rather remarkable when you consider that some days I can barely remember what I had for dinner two nights ago. But fear, mixed with a covert dose of wonder, leaves an impression. All these years later, the question remains: Was Russell simply a holy terror, or was he a renegade in the making? At six years old, he had already mastered the art of breaking rank and decampment.

I tried taking authority into my own hands once when I was young. I was a lanky little girl whose hair seemed to grow thicker by the day, like a magic mushroom, and I was well versed in the rule about listening to authority. One night, a friend of my father’s was visiting with his wife. He was one of those men whose mean-spiritedness seemed more apparent to children, like an invisible dog whistle that only they could hear.

He often bragged about his cruelty to animals, which included throwing poisoned meatballs over his yard fence at dogs who wandered onto his property. His friendship with my father perplexed me as my dad was a kind man and an animal lover, and I couldn’t understand why he would associate with someone I considered a monster. But as children, we don’t have the life experience to understand why certain adult relationships form.

Even now, anyone who harms an animal brings out the same fury in me. I want vengeance. And I want them off the planet.

One night, as Mr. Poison Meatballs was sitting at our kitchen table, he decided to mock our dog at the time, a lovable, fat Pointer named Tar. All the animals in our household were overfed with love, getting scraps from the table as a treat in addition to their regular pet food. The irony was that Mr. Meatballs was the last person who should have been mocking another living creature for being overweight. He himself looked like a rough-and-tumble, more corpulent version of SpongeBob SquarePants.

My sister, who had been gathering intelligence by listening in on the adults’ conversation, came into my bedroom and told me what was being said. Like Yosemite Sam, the cartoon character often depicted with steam rising from his head, I was beside myself with anger. I took my scrawny legs and detonable hair and marched straight into the kitchen, nightgown askew, demanding that Poison Meatballs leave my house. “Get out!” I screamed, finger pointing towards the door, as a look of amusement seemed to wash over his face. I can’t remember how my parents reacted, although I suspect I embarrassed them. I screamed a few more G-rated disparagements, defending my chubby dog’s honor and trashing his, before retreating to my room in tears.

For years into adulthood, my disdain for Meatballs remained, though I eventually learned to act with simulated decorum for my parents’ sake. Still, I would have loved to land a punch on his crooked nose with my scrawny little hands.

We’re living in times when we must be discerning, stand up for our beliefs, and remain true to our ethics, our morals, and the very foundation of who we are. We must guard our energy, choose our battles wisely, and know which hills we’re willing to die on. We may not always have the courage to speak up, but we should never lose sight of the little warrior within who reminds us what we stand for and when it’s time to stand our ground.