I grew up with privileged kids who were handed great opportunities, like free college tuition, with parents who wore the same camouflage jacket and big brown boots and rose at 5:00am every morning. “Military brats” was a nickname given to every child on base, and we wore it proudly, not knowing it was another way of calling us snarky. We brats usually found comfort in each other, since every house was squished so close together. I knew the names of all my neighbors and sat on the couch in every living room area of a 2-mile radius. My parents were friends with my classmates' parents, and I had many!

Every military family was assigned to a state for a 3-year term. When the term ends, you have the option of choosing between three new locations or staying in one for another term. I faintly remember running around with the kids who had been constantly switched from different state bases. It was hard to hold a solid friendship due to the moving. I never had to be aware of my surroundings because there was nothing to surround me, besides a few stores. There were gates around the base, identification checks at every entrance, and officers posted everywhere. Crime was rare.

When I was seven, my parents separated, and we moved to Virginia. I started school in Prince George County, where I first learned what bullying was. I was the sheltered, weird girl who didn’t understand what was normal in this new world. For the first time, I had to learn where I stood socially. Growing up in a closed-off community meant I had absorbed pieces of each base I'd lived on, but I never discovered who I truly was. Prince George is where I became painfully aware of where I stood on the social ladder. I envied the other kids because they had control of who they got to be.

I struggled a lot with my physical appearance once I moved. I was a bit chunkier, and I had a dyed high top that was very dry, brittle almost, with different designs shaved on the side of my head. I also wore a lot of raggedy hand-me-downs from my mom’s friends. My teeth were horribly crooked, and I ran into almost every glass door noticeable. My dark skin helped draw attention to these things, and I became a target in my predominately white school. I never noticed my looks until then. On base, our skin and looks never held much weight; it was like a fairytale land where everyone was nicer than your average person. After two years of living in Prince George, we moved to Petersburg, VA, where my personal thoughts grew harsh. I began to have a hard time understanding where I came from or who I wanted to be. Comparing my new reality with the old one became a daily norm that started to mess with my confidence. My energy began to fade, and I lost touch with my sense of self. My family soon began to notice and placed me in different programs where I met many kids with similar backgrounds as me.

Slowly, I began to open up and enjoy what life had to offer. I began to surround myself with people who also cared for things like how soft or cute their hair and outfits turned out. Building these different connections became something I grew to appreciate. Soon, my change in space went from being hard to becoming simple. I got the chance to choose who I became, rebuilding my confidence and consciousness as a young teen. I learned that not every situation is a bad one and sometimes accepting a difference is better than fighting it. All it took was a change in space

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