Sometimes I think about a boy I knew when I was young 

Who had the thoughts of someone who was young

And acted on them in a particular way

That showed how young he was,

Not only because he was young

But also because he could. 

And I think about my friends who were also young 

Looking at those pictures he took

Of a girl who was as young as they were

And not wanting

Anyone

To be in trouble. 

But the impulse inside me to tell 

Was stronger than my desire not to expose 

What was private 

Because I would have wanted someone 

To do the same for me 

If the photos had been of my body.

And so I told 

And he did get in trouble 

Not only with the school

But with his mother, a fate far worse.

We were all so young 

And I think this is why my friends

Were upset with me for tattling

When I could have said nothing 

And no one else would have found out. 

Except if I had kept quiet 

For the rest of my life

I would have lived with

The fact that when given the chance to put a stop 

To something that was wrong

I said nothing

To protect the wrong doer’s reputation

At the expense of the wronged.

And even though I was as young as everyone else

I knew 

That I would never be okay with that.

And so I told. 

And I lost friends. 

And then I grew up

Into a woman who is unashamed 

Unembarrassed

Unafraid 

To say the things that need to be said.