ervmalyshka

But what if power doesn’t automatically corrupt?

What if it depends on leadership, identity, and the stories we are guided to believe?

The Stanford Prison Experiment shows us that the line between cruelty and compliance is shaped less by innate evil and more by expectation, authority, and the invisible forces that quietly rewrite who we are.

Here’s my reflection beyond the myth.

“They say, "It takes a village to raise a child."

That phrase made me pause—

because it didn’t take so many people to raise… me."

While the sense of self grows and evolves over time through biological and sociocultural influences, my childhood as a whole left a lasting imprint on who I am today.

Growing up, I slowly realized that I never had something most people do—a complete family. It may sound harsh, but the sooner I accepted this reality, the easier it became to let go of the part of me that still hoped something could be rekindled.

My mother was away for most of my formative years, working hard just to make ends meet. Because of this, I grew up under the care of my grandparents. I would be lying if I said I never resented her for leaving me. I was just a child then, untouched by the weight of life and the unfairness I had yet to understand.

My grandparents were always supportive—not perfectly, but in a strict yet nurturing way. Looking back, it is still the kind of upbringing I would choose if given the chance.

My relationship with my grandmother, however, was complicated. Even as a child, I knew we weren’t deeply compatible. Though she was physically present throughout my childhood, we never truly connected on a deeper emotional level. That was something I learned to accept early on.

Despite this, I remain deeply grateful to her. I was never her responsibility in the first place, yet she chose to be there—to attend to me, to nurture me—when I had no one else. That alone is something I will always be thankful for.

Throughout my childhood, I never really had someone I could confide in. My mother was away, and my grandparents couldn’t fully understand the things I kept within myself. It was during this time that I realized I only had myself.

At first, that realization felt isolating.

As I grew older, I learned it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

It made me ponder deeply:

Who really shaped me into the person I am today?

Who raised the Erika I am now?

My younger self would have answered

without hesitation—my grandparents.

That answer would’ve been expected.

But as a 20-year-old looking back, I’ve come to realize something else.

Yes, there were people who were present—who took care of me, guided me, and influenced me in different ways. All of them played a role in shaping who I am today.

But if I’m being completely honest,

I raised myself.

Not because of neglect from those who were supposed to raise me,

but because my younger self learned early on that it was okay to rely on herself.

Growing up, I learned to tell myself:

“It’s okay. You have yourself.”

I became my own anchor long before I knew I needed one.

I grew up thinking I would never feel complete within myself—because I lacked something everyone else seemed to have, something society showed us, or at least made us believe we needed. I now know that isn’t true. After all, at some point in our lives, we become the drivers of our own journey. How we maneuver it is up to us.

And I thank me for learning how to drive—on my own.

The love, guidance, personal experiences—the wins, the failures, the ups and downs—are all layers that molded the person I am today. But if I could finally give someone the long-overdue credit for raising me, I know exactly who it would be.

It takes courage for me to admit this—not out of embarrassment, but because it took countless journal pages and inked pens to realize that the person who raised me was never someone else.

It was me—the one who raised me.

— erikajanelle_c1 | 01/17/26

Learning that behavior doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it lives in situations, norms, and quiet influences we rarely notice. Social psychology makes you question not just what people do, but why we do it together.