There are a few times in my life where I’ve given into peer pressure, and as much as this story pains me to retell, here it is:
I pull on my weathered boots and run out the creaky screen door, as fast as my 6 year old legs will carry me. As I run, I yell over my shoulder to my brother and cousin, “Hurry up! They’re coming in!” Skipping to a halt a few feet in front of the corral’s gate, I take my steps more cautiously so I don’t spook the horses. My brother and cousin have caught up to me now and I hear them slow down, treading lightly.
Reaching the gate, I hop onto the top railing and perch atop it-- giving me a perfect view of the horses as they make their way in from the pasture for some water. Out of the five horses, I’m only interested in one, though he’s not a horse at all, but my donkey, Skates.
“There he is” I yell, “There’s Skates!” I turn and face the donkey, my donkey, as of two days ago. As he comes in the gate, I cluck at him and hold out my hand, begging him to acknowledge my presence. To my utter joy, he comes right up to me and I squeal-- the full excitement of owning a large, very large, animal overwhelming me.
“What are you waiting for? Hop on him!” my brother dares me. I look over my shoulder at my dad mowing the lawn and then back at the donkey, unsure of my next move.
“Are you sure dad won’t get mad?” I ask my older, and at the time I thought, much wiser, brother.
“He’s yours. Don’t be a girl, get on him!” he snickers.
At the age of 6 and a complete tomboy from the unbrushed hair, to the holes in my jeans, his name calling irks me into action. As I look at Skates, I see he has turned away from me, with his head facing the opposite direction.
“I can do this” I think to myself as I brace my two little hands on the fence. I plop my bum down on his back, with my face to his backside. Immediately, I feel Skates’ body tense from the unwelcome guest and I realize I have made a terrible mistake. Just before I can retrace my steps and ask for forgiveness, Skates takes off at a strong gallop, with no consideration for the small body he is taking with him.
Having nothing to grasp, my hands flail wildly and I hear my cousin yell, “Get off!” but before I can make any move, I feel myself flying through the air and land on the hard, manure covered ground with a sound “thud!”
Moaning, I look at my dirt covered body and look up to see my brother, cousin, and dad sprinting toward me. But instead of the anger I expect to see engraved on my dad’s face, all I see is concern. I breathe a sigh of relief and stand up-- vowing to never listen to my brother again.
My six year old self learned a few lessons that day, but the most important has been to never give into peer pressure. Do I think my brother meant harm? No. Do I still love him today and think the world of him? Of course. But as a 6 year old, I knew no better. If my older and wiser brother thought it was okay, well, then who was I to question it? But as I grow older and as I, myself, become wiser, I have learned to trust my own gut instinct. I live in a society where drinking, smoking, and other wordly enticements are the everyday norm. When “Just saying no” as I was taught from a young age, turned into getting mocked for not being “cool” or “layed back”, I started to question my morals. But as a now 18 year old young woman, I can proudly say that I have never drank, never done drugs, and can stand up for myself. Peer pressure can be my worst enemy-- if I let it control me-- but it can also act as a guide. When I say “No”, I am that much closer to becoming the person I want to be, without anyone else choosing my path for me.
