“It’s so beautiful,” I muttered, as I carefully stroked the delicately carved hilt.“Be careful with the blade! It’s very sharp.” Grandma’s voice came from behind. I reluctantly took back my curious hand. Apparently, this beautiful sword wasn’t for me. “Why can’t I have a sword like my brother does?” “Honey,” my grandma gently said, “the sword can’t be a good toy for girls. It’s really heavy and dangerous. You can easily hurt yourself. Grandpa also bought you a gift, didn’t he? Don't you like that exquisite vase?” “Grandma hates me,” I muttered, and I really thought so. Because I always fought with boys when I was a kid, my grandma often complained about my “unladylike behaviors.” However, these “unladylike behaviors” are what I’m really proud of when I think about myself. I have the ability and courage to independently solve problems. In a louder voice I repeated “I think you hate me,” in case my grandma hadn’t heard what I just said.“No, of course I don’t,” she replied. “Then why can’t I have a sword?” I started to cry out loud because I thought my grandparents didn’t get me a sword because of my incapability, and I craved their approval.With all my crying and pleading, my grandparents finally bought me a tiny sword the next day. It’s not as beautiful as the one they got for my brother, but I still appreciated it, because to me, it represents their approval of my stubbornness as a girl.