When I was a little girl, my dad taught me how to fight. I still to this day remember him telling me how to follow through with a punch. He said a punch does not end at their face. He said you're aiming at a place about a foot behind them except their face just happens to be in the way.

My dad told me never to start a fight, but if someone hit me to hit them back. He said that even if I took a beating, it wouldn't be anything near as bad as the relentless torment I'd receive if I allowed myself to be bullied.

My dad was right. Inevitably a girl at school who liked to bully younger girls targeted my little sister. She was even two years older than I was, and my sister was just in kindergarten. I threw a punch at this bully the way my dad had taught me and gave her a gusher of a bloody nose. She never dared to bully my sister again, and no one ever bothered me either after that.