When they called me "Little Leg" – and God gave me a Story

It's not always easy to explain why some years of our lives become harder than others. For me, it all began in those first days of high school, when, for the first time, I found myself in a classroom alone. Without my twin sister by my side, I felt like I was missing a part of me — as if I had forgotten a hand, a piece of my heart, on another floor of the school.

My classroom was on the first floor, but it felt like being locked in another world. Despite everyone being around me, I was invisible. My classmates didn’t talk to me — and, like a flower bud closed before spring, I couldn’t talk to them either. My strategy for survival was to remain silent. Quietly in my corner.

Na praça perto da escola

My best moments came during recess, when I would run (slowly and a bit crooked) to the gym to meet my sister and her friends. There, I was someone else. There, I could breathe.

Before, I would spend my free time in the library, surrounded by books and dreams. But that year, even though I no longer spent hours hiding between the shelves, I never went without a book in my backpack — it was my invisible shield.

One memory still beats strong in me: a group project where I felt like a little fish out of water, trying to swim on dry land. I felt ignored, devalued, as if my voice had disappeared. I cried so much after that presentation... I sobbed uncontrollably, and it worried not only my sister but also the woman who helped students with disabilities at school, Dilma.

That was when I decided to transfer to my sister's class. And for a while, the gray turned back into color. I made friends. I presented projects with a smile. I sang. I laughed. I prepared surprises for my friends. I relearned the joy of being myself.

Algumas memórias

Until the third year (and last one) came — and with it, the weight of bullying (and ableism).

I gave presentations to the entire school. One of them was a song on a high bench in the chemistry lab. Another, a beautiful story of an athlete who competed in both the Olympics and the Paralympics. I sang and told the story without missing a note, too focused on what I was doing to notice the muffled laughs in the stands.

I thought it was all in my head.

On the way out, I noticed different looks. Stifled giggles. But I refused to believe it. I went home happy — after all, my team had won the scavenger hunt!

On Monday, the coordinator stopped me on the way to the water fountain and asked if I was okay. I was... until I started to understand that something had happened.

After much insistence, my friends and my sister revealed it: During my presentations, a group of students had given me a cruel nickname — “Little Leg” — and, from the stands, they mimicked the way I walked while laughing loudly. That’s why my team had shouted so loud.

They were trying to drown out the cruelty.

That day, while waiting for my mom to pick me up, I cried until I couldn’t breathe. My geography teacher cried with me, wordlessly, just trying to hug me with his eyes.

When I told my parents, I pretended it didn’t matter. But inside, it felt like I had become that lonely girl on the first floor all over again.

My mom went to the school. The group got a zero on the scavenger hunt. But no number would erase the pain I carried. I wrote letters to those who had hurt me. Letters I never sent, trying to forgive without knowing to whom.

I began hiding my scars more.

I tried to change the way I walked.

I tried to change who I was.

But no matter how hard I tried, I kept being me.

It was only a year later, at 18, that I had a true encounter with God — in my room, at 5 a.m. It was there that I accepted Jesus as my Savior and Creator.

Little by little, God began stitching the torn pieces of my heart. Today, I still feel pain when I see someone mimicking me. But I’ve also learned to smile. And I’m much happier when I hear a child say: — “You walk like a ballerina!”

Criação Assombrosa será lançado pela Editora Coerência (Selo Elohim)

This story, my story, is one of the seeds that sprouted in my new book, Criação Assombrosa (Awe-Inspiring Creation). A book that speaks of vulnerability, hope, and a love that transforms pain into art.

The release will be at FEFICC in July. And I can’t wait to share this new dance with you.