Nothing could have prepared eight-year-old me for the assault by my grandpa. Nothing could have prepared me for the hands that were on me, the guilt I felt, or the pain he left in my life.

Man or Bear? I picked a bear because a bear wouldn’t force me like the man did. A bear wouldn't understand the word "no," but the man would understand it and choose to ignore it, just like the man did. I picked a bear because if a bear attacked me, nobody would ask me what I was wearing. No one would say I wanted to be attacked by the bear. I picked a bear. 
I once loved my grandpa. He showed me how to swing at the park, he showed me how to do math. But he also showed me how not to push a kid on a swing, he showed me how easy it is to become uncomfortable around a tutor or teacher.

I was convinced I'd never stop choosing a bear when I thought about the man—the one man in my life who has hurt me more than anyone. But as I closed my eyes and felt the tears trickle down my face, I heard my dad's footsteps walking up the stairs and began to sob. I couldn’t choose a bear when I had him.

The man taught me what love is not, but my dad taught me what love is. My dad grew up with the abuse of his father in other ways than I did, yet it was still not love. I will forever look up to my dad, not only because he taught me love and provided the biggest support in my life, but also because he taught me love amidst his own struggles with Man or Bear?

Unfortunately, when you are forced into picking man, you grow up faster than anyone around you. Your childhood loses a few years, you grow up more mature than your peers, and you have to face the trauma silently, while everyone else around you stays their young, innocent selves. As I grew up facing the trauma and dealing with my innocence leaving me, I learned about resilience. 

Resilience, I’ve come to learn, is not something you’re born with—it’s something you build piece by piece. When I first opened up about the man, I thought my dad would hate me. The guilt and shame washed over me every day, as if I had shattered something irreparable inside him. But instead of letting that brokenness define me, I found strength in the people who supported me, in my father’s unwavering love. He didn’t just listen—he helped me rebuild. Each conversation, each tear, each late-night talk at the kitchen table wasn’t just about healing from the assault; it was about learning that I could trust again, that I could stand again, that I was stronger than I ever thought I could be. Resilience wasn’t just surviving; it was the process of discovering who I could become on the other side of pain.

So today, three weeks after being asked "Man or Bear?", I choose "or." To me, "or" represents the courage to be brave, to learn, and to fight for justice. It means embracing my creative and strong self. It means using my voice and refusing to back down, even after enduring four years in court. Choosing "or" is about standing for what is right, beyond simple labels or choices. I support a man if he's right, and a bear if he's not. "Or" is my third alternative, transcending the original question. It means using my background and past to shape who I am today, without letting it limit who I can become. Choosing "or" isn't just about avoiding pain—it's about choosing strength, choosing my own path, and refusing to be defined by a past I didn't choose. It is my commitment to strength, resilience, and telling my story until it is heard loud and clear.

BY: ALY GRAY