By: Julia Henderson
“You won’t believe what Tom said today,” my husband chuckled, tossing a lone ice cube into his glass. Tom is a colleague in my husband’s medical practice and has a daughter who is the same age as our daughter, Lila, a seventh grader.
“What’s up?” I asked, slicing cucumbers for a salad.
“This is rich,” he continued. “Tom came into the office looking drained. He sighed heavily and asked, ‘Has your household been turned upside down by the breakup of One Direction?’”
I burst out laughing. “And what did you say?”
“I told him, ‘Lila couldn’t care less about One Direction, Tom. She’s just not into that stuff. But if Benedict Cumberbatch announced he was leaving Sherlock or if they canceled Doctor Who or Supernatural, that would send her into a tailspin. One Direction? Not a chance.’”
“I’m so thankful that she got our nerdy genes.” I popped a crouton into my mouth and reached for the salad tongs. “Though Lila did mention that some girls at school were in total meltdown mode about it. I mean, crying, for goodness’ sake.”
“That’s what Tom said,” my husband nodded. “It’s like an emotional disaster. Whining, crying, and constant texting. It’s a drama fest.”
“Zayn,” I wrinkled my nose. “Who names their kid that?”
Later that evening, I received a Facebook message from my friend Claire. Her daughter, Mia, is also 13.
“Mia’s experiencing bullying from her friend group,” Claire wrote. “These girls are all huge One Direction fans, and Mia has kind of moved on. When she told them it didn’t matter to her, they turned on her instantly. Now she’s getting a barrage of nasty messages on social media.”
“That’s insane,” I replied. “How’s Mia holding up?”
“She’s upset but talking to me about it, which I’m grateful for. I told her to ignore the drama and that I was proud of her for being true to herself. But guess what the girls did next? They went on Instagram and blurred Mia’s face out of every group picture.”
Reading that chill-inducing message took me back to my own middle school experience. The summer before eighth grade, my group of “friends” decided I was next in line to be ostracized. Their cruelty felt like a swift punch to the gut and left me gasping for air.
One afternoon that summer, a boy from my class called me. I recognized his voice but we had never really spoken.
“Hey,” he said casually.
“Hi,” I replied hesitantly.
“Guess what your so-called friends did today?” he asked, his tone smooth.
I held my breath, a lump forming in my throat.
“They took all the pictures where you’re in them and burned them in Shannon’s backyard.”
I gently placed the phone down, the message was unmistakable:
We can erase you. You don’t exist without us.
At 13, I was still trying to figure out who I was, and part of me believed them. What girl at that age truly knows herself? I only knew I was shy, loved to read, and that math wasn’t my thing. But the deeper nuances of my identity? Those were still a mystery.
Weekend Reflections
This past weekend, my husband and I took Lila and her friend Sarah to the mall. I slipped away for a moment to hunt for Easter gifts and sweets. On the drive home, my husband beamed at Lila in the rearview mirror.
“Hey, Lila. Want to share what you said in Sephora?”
Lila rolled her eyes but smiled slightly. “Oh, come on, Dad.”
I laughed. “Seriously, what was it?”
He grinned, “I needed shaving gel, so I took the girls into Sephora. Lila walked in and recoiled, saying, ‘What are we doing here? This place is all about makeup.’”
I turned to Lila, who was now avoiding my gaze. “So, what’s wrong with makeup?”
“Mom!” She shook her head and went back to her headphones. “Makeup is for gross popular girls. All they care about is boys. They’re terrible. You won’t see me caught dead wearing that.”
As we got home, Lila headed straight for the swings in the backyard, her headphones still on. I watched her from the kitchen window, pumping her legs higher and higher. My husband joined me, grinning as he watched our daughter.
“She’s really going for it,” he said.
“She always does. She loves swinging,” I replied.
“She’s a great kid,” he said, “but why do you worry so much?”
“This age is tricky. Kids can be so mean, and I’m not sure she has the skills to cope. Just look at her—five foot seven and still swinging.”
“Isn’t it a good thing? She’s not chasing after boys or acting like a wild child. She’s just being herself,” he reassured me.
“I am grateful for that. She calls herself a nerd. That’s how she identifies.”
He laughed sharply. “And so what? We were nerds too. Heck, we still are!”
“Do you think she truly believes it, deep down?”
He placed a hand on my back. “Lila is going to be just fine. You worry too much. Just enjoy her for who she is.”
Enjoy her. Just as she is. My quirky, intelligent daughter, with wild curls that dance like untamed horses.
I took a moment to appreciate the sight of her soaring through the air, reaching for the sky.
In this ever-changing world, it’s comforting to know that some things remain unchanged—like the bond between a parent and their nerdy child.
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Summary
The author reflects on her teenage daughter Lila’s nerdy identity and the contrast to the drama surrounding their peers. They discuss parenting challenges, the importance of self-acceptance, and the comfort of embracing one’s uniqueness in a world that often values conformity.