cielosiluminado's Reviews (443)

To all the Black boys who had to grow up too early
— Dedication, p. v

Joy in the face of oppression is its own kind of bravery, but so is sitting in front of the thing that scares you, and not running.
— Chapter 15, p. 315

I am a victim, I have no qualms with this word, only with the idea that it is all that I am.
— Introduction, p. viiii

My pain was never more valuable than his potential.
— Chapter 9, p. 241

We force her to think hard about what this will mean for his life, even though he never considered what his actions would do to her.
— Chapter 12, p. 288

Little girls don’t stay little forever, Kyle Stephens said. They turn into strong women who return to destroy your world.
— Chapter 13, p. 293

Most people say developing is linear, but for survivors it is cyclic. People grow up, victims grow around; we strengthen around the place that hurt, become older and fuller, but the vulnerable core is never gone.
— Chapter 13, p. 307

This book does not have a happy ending. The happy part is there is no ending, because I'll always find a way to keep going.
— Chapter 14, p. 325

I survived because I remained soft, because I listened, because I wrote. Because I huddled close to my truth, protected it like a tiny flame in a terrible storm. Hold up your head when the tears come, when you are mocked, insulted, questioned, threatened, when they tell you you are nothing, when your body is reduced to openings. The journey will be longer than you imagined, trauma will find you again and again. Do not become the ones who hurt you. Stay tender with your power. Never fight to injure, fight to uplift. Fight because you know that in this life, you deserve safety, joy, and freedom. Fight because it is your life. Not anyone else’s. I did it, I am here. Looking back, all the ones who doubted or hurt or nearly conquered me faded away, and I am the only one standing. So now, the time has come. I dust myself off, and go on.
— Chapter 14, p. 328

And finally, to girls everywhere, I am with you. On nights when you feel alone, I am with you. When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought everyday for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. As the author Anne Lamott once wrote, "Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining." Although I can’t save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can’t be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you. Thank you.
— Emily Doe’s Victim Impact Statement, p. 357

For anyone who’s ever wished they could be someone else.
— Dedication, p. v

It’s the mantra we've all been fed since we were kids: study hard, get into a good school, be better than everyone else, and you'll have a better life.
— Chapter 14, p. 224

A model student causes no trouble. A model student makes no noise. A model student gives everything they have and asks for nothing. They simply keep their head down and study and get the best scores on behalf of the school, and then graduate as valedictorian, with the perfect winning streak, and they head to the best universities in the world to train even harder to become a model citizen, so they can continue to be good. They’re so good that nobody bothers to notice when something’s wrong. They’re so good they’re an afterthought. They’re so good they might as well not exist, except to be used as evidence that success is possible, that the system is perfectly sound, that anyone who struggles can only blame themselves.
— Chapter 17, pp. 265-66

“… Without balance, we’ll destroy ourselves. Being that cold, that ruthless, you’ll become a machine, and machines are easily broken and dismantled.”
(Chapter 1, p. 25)

What was love? A drug? No, love was more like an illness—a beautiful, painful illness that tore at the heart and mind in the best and worst ways. I finally understood what it meant to be love-sick. How many people really experienced love like this? Was it this intense for everyone?
(Chapter 12, pp. 202-03)

“You are—the sun to me … You are all the light and joy in the world, and I am good at nothing so much as watching you from a distance.” (Chapter 12, p. 94)