The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond XXXIII

MAPLE GAIL MCLAREN
KATE LYNCH, TEACHER
Keith Middle School, New Bedford, MA
Most things take courage. Think about it: even something small. Like when
you do not want to get out of bed in the morning or do a chore—you have the
courage to do that. Standing up for yourself or another person takes courage,
especially when you do it in front of others. We’ve all done these things
before, so when the little voice in your head says, “You’re not enough,” know
that you are.
I used to wonder why all the other little girls at my preschool had dads. Dads
who loved them, and were there, and were safe. I was only two, and he still hurt
me. I don’t understand how a person could do that to a kid. It ruined parts of
my life and my mother’s life that we can’t get back. I remember getting put in
his car outside of the police station that my mom had to take me to so I could
visit him. She didn’t know he was dangerous; if she did, she never would have
let him see me. I screamed, cried, and tried to tell my mom to take me out. He
wouldn’t even let my mom say goodbye to me. Say goodbye to the girl she was
fighting for. He locked the door and watched my mom touch the window to say
goodbye to me as she held back her tears. “Don’t touch my car,” he said.
“Mama! No more Dada! No more Dada!”
I would bite, kick, and scream every time we had to leave the house, because
I didn’t know if I was going to have to see him. Let’s say that the kindest thing
he had ever done to me was lock me in a basement for hours in winter as a
two-year-old with my baby brother. I don’t even know that baby brother
anymore. He has to live with the monster who is my father and his mother. His
mother said, “I’m going to take you home, Maple,” after I witnessed my father
abuse an animal. She didn’t take me home. She drove around the neighborhood
for an hour.
“I AM STRONG, I
AM LOVED, I AM
POWERFUL, I AM
SMART, AND I
AM CARED FOR. I
AM MAPLE GAIL
MCLAREN. AND
I AM NO LONGER
SCARED OF HIM.”
Sometimes you can’t pretend like everything is fine, and sometimes you can’t
put the mask on. When you tell another person what’s happening or what they
did to you, you do something so powerful. If you are scared to tell someone
what is happening to you, I understand. I don’t know how I could even muster
and comprehend the words “he hurt me” at two and a half. My mom taught
me how to read and do math at three and four, so I knew that I was worth
more than what he did. That I was worthy of respect. You are worthy of
respect. Courage is much more than pushing through something or tearing
down your walls. It’s not letting events, diagnoses, or feelings define who you
are. Max never let leukemia define him; he never let anyone but himself do that.
Max inspired me to never let anyone or anything but myself define who I am.
I am not what he did to me, I am not the trauma, I am not anxiety, I am not
the rumors, I am not “the girl whose dad abused her,” I am not a scared
three-year-old, I never was his daughter, he never was my father, and I am
not the result of his actions. I am strong, I am loved, I am powerful, I am
smart, and I am cared for. I am Maple Gail McLaren. And I am no longer
scared of him.
You have courage, and I do, too.
Someone at my middle school who I used to be friends with knew about what
happened and told one person, if not more. Then, it was put in a group chat.
I don’t know how many people were in that group chat, and I have no clue if it
was passed on. I faced it, and I didn’t hide from it. I had the courage to go to
school the day after my privacy was violated. The fact that he has no rights to
see me or have contact with family or friends, even after I’m eighteen, is a
miracle. So many children are forced to repeat that pattern for years with no
supervision or help. I am so grateful that I did get the help I needed!
THE COURAGE OF CHILDREN: BOSTON AND BEYOND
VOLUME XXXIII
130 131