October is Bullying Awareness month.
When I was younger the term Bully was not used like it is today. But I can't help but reflect on my own experiences with this. I survived, but Lord I can remember the painful stretch where my hair was growing out from a frizzy chili bowl into an even frizzier bob. I was growing up (feet first) and just ackward. Eventually, my “afro”calmed down a bit- just in time for me to need glasses AND braces. Oh, and did I mention I played the violin? And read books like most kids play video games?
I wasn’t just shy or introverted; I was a terribly passive child. I would just sit there and take the insults about my frizzy hair, the occasional spitwad, or comments about my soccer shorts-which I wore in a futile effort to fit in with the athletic kids. I was not athletic, by the way. To give you an idea of just how much I sucked at sports, I was put on the C team in basketball. I couldn't even get on a team for track and field. My parents couldn’t afford it, so I didn't bother asking for the Addidas windpants and $100 running shoes that every other girl seemed to have. During P.E. I just walked around the track dressed in hand-me-downs and clothes from Wal-Mart with the handful of other girls who didn't qualify for a team. What can I say...7th grade was a bitch.
I wasn’t just shy or introverted; I was a terribly passive child. I would just sit there and take the insults about my frizzy hair, the occasional spitwad, or comments about my soccer shorts-which I wore in a futile effort to fit in with the athletic kids. I was not athletic, by the way. To give you an idea of just how much I sucked at sports, I was put on the C team in basketball. I couldn't even get on a team for track and field. My parents couldn’t afford it, so I didn't bother asking for the Addidas windpants and $100 running shoes that every other girl seemed to have. During P.E. I just walked around the track dressed in hand-me-downs and clothes from Wal-Mart with the handful of other girls who didn't qualify for a team. What can I say...7th grade was a bitch.
Fortunately, my parents switched me to a charter school for 8th grade. All summer I saved my allowance so I could show up at New School in flared jeans, nice shoes, and preppy tops. I slicked my hair back as best I could, finished all my assignments early, and…nobody talked to me. They thought I was a stuck up snob. (Oops!) After about 2 weeks the other girls and I actually got to know each other and became attached at the hip.
One day, a substitute teacher referred to one of my friends as the 'chubby little Mexican girl'. Rachel was adopted by a Caucasian family, but she was actually Native American. This comment upset my friend so much that she went to the principal, in tears. Aside from Kiesha (who was half-black), and 3 cousins who were Mexican, all the kids in this school were white! Nobody understood what it was like to have people constantly assuming you were a different race, she wailed. Principal then looked at me, and smiled. "That’s not true," she said, "Why don’t you tell her Leah?" I froze. My face grew hot as I stammered out something about how I’m part black, but most people don’t know that either. Which was fine and dandy with me. The last time I’d told someone about being mixed was 3 years earlier. Afterwards, that classmate told me she didn’t know if we could still be friends- she’d have to ask her parents.
2 of the Mexican boys overheard this exchange and for the next few weeks I was teased relentlessly. They called me a Nigger, made jokes about slavery, and made fun of my hair. Just like before, I didn’t know how to respond. So I didn’t. My parents never used that kind of langauge, so I didn't know any deragatory names for Mexicans, or anyone else. My best friend, who was often teased for being fat, happily supplied me with a colorful vocabulary after I told her what was going on. I talked to her because I couldn’t tell my mom. She’d just tell my dad, then he would get that look on his face, and I just knew they would pull me out of the school, which I really liked. (Aside from the Mexican kids making fun of me for being a "minority"!)
The next day one of the boys made a comment about my hair in front of the whole class. My heart was pounding as I made a comment back. Not a swear word or a racial slur (we got sent home for bad language) but it was enough. I owned who I was, and acknowledged who he was. They never bothered me again.
Since then, I have learned how to play basketball (and softball!) I graduated from college, moved to Houston, and got a master’s degree. I love to go jogging and even did a triathlon this year. I can stick to a budget, so I know when it’s time to shop at Wal-Mart and when I can save up for a trendy item. I've stopped straightening my hair and found great products to keep it long and natural. More importantly, I have a good job, great friends and an awesome boyfriend who just loves my curly dark hair.
Ps. I went back home for a visit last year and ended up having lunch with some friends at Olive Garden. Immediately, I recognized one of the waiters. He had been the popular guy who made fun of me in school. What can I say.... Karma’s a bitch.
1 comment:
Awesomely wrote Leah..you are beautiful!
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