Dear Blog
As a teacher I’ve seen bullying going on at school and it makes me so mad. As a student I was bullied. I was bullied in so many ways and for so many reasons that when I look back, they seem childish, but so cruel. I was bullied for my weight. I was bullied because of my tanned skin color. I was bullied for being smart. I was bullied for my looks.
Classmates told me I was fat. They said I was the daughter of maid because I was tanned. My mom is American, she has beautiful light skin, green eyes, and dark wavy hair. I look like my dad. I have the Mexican features. I’m ‘morena’ (tan/ brown skin). I suffered from terrible acne and my skin scared. I have dark black hair and brown eyes. But my classmates told me I was beneath them. They made me feel horrible about myself. They made fun of me for handing in all my homework. They made fun of me because I was short and shy.
Throughout elementary and junior high school I was a bright, smiley girl, willing to help anyone at anytime, but my willingness to help others was always taken advantage of. My classmates made me believe they were my friends. They’d hang out with me, pass me funny little notes during class, and exchange those ‘friendship’ bracelets. But then, as soon as I was out of sight, they’d turn around and say terrible things about me. They used me only to help them improve their grades. (I’d even do their homework sometimes.) They used me to make fun of me. I didn’t know this until much later. Usually I was very shy so any attention my classmates gave me was amazing. My parents told me I matured much more sooner than my classmates and I never quite fit in. When I was in 4th grade I was the only girl who had acne, and trouble with my weight. Most girls in my generation had nice tan or peach skin. Since my skin was darker and scared easily my classmates called me names, terrible names. But out of all my “imperfections” , I had one I liked; my glasses. (oddly enough they never made fun of me because I wore glasses) My glasses were my mask, I could be invisible. I could hide behind them and pretend to not hear the cruelty my classmates gave me. A cruelty that only existed in school. At home I had a loving and caring family. But like I’m an only child, I yearned for company. I wanted true good friends at school.
When I grew a little older, junior high level, it was the guys turn to take cruelty to the next level. They tricked me into believe I was interesting and beautiful. Beautiful, that was all I wanted to be. I yearned to fit in soo much, that I believed all those lies. At the school dance or birthday parties the guys would make bets, paying each other up to fifty dollars to invite me to the dance floor and leave me standing there. I soon lost count of how many times they did this to me. Soon I stopped going to dances. When I’d come back from school or the dances, after being hurt, I always forced a smile saying “I had a great day…” or “The dance was really fun! Everyone looked soo nice…”. I tried pretending that everything was fine, so no one suspected the true damage that I was suffering. Thankfully my parents noticed how unhappy I was…but most of the times I cried myself to sleep.
Boy’s comments really hurt me. I once helped a “guy-friend” ask out an girl to the dance. He was so happy…but he didn’t thank me or offer to set me up with one of this friends. So jokingly I asked him “Gosh, why is it that Jane can get a date, but I can’t…” Without thinking twice he answered “That’s because she’s pretty.” That hurt. It cut me to the soul. I felt like someone had punched me. I felt horrible that night, and like a lot of teenagers I considered taking my life.
I couldn’t cut myself, my analytical self was worried about the mess that my parents would have to clean up afterwards. I couldn’t take pills because I didn’t know how many I needed to take. So I turned to my mom and told her how I felt. I told her how depressed I was. I don’t remember the exact words she told me, but it was something like: “Why would you kill yourself over one boy? Do you think he will even care? Do you think he’ll even know you died because of him? He won’t care. He won’t notice. He’ll go on with his life. If anything he might even think you’re weak…”
So the thought stuck with me. Was this guy even worth it? Sure the words hurt like hell. But why should I kill myself over him?… I never again seriously considered killing myself .
Another time, I got paired off in a group project with the ‘cutest-guy-of-the-generation’, let’s call him: Jerk. Anyway, well since we had to do a school project together, Jerk and I had to spend time together. I really thought he was cute, I might have had a crush on him. Anyway, he started being very nice to me, and I was trilled!! We ended up getting an excellent grade on our project. Soon after that he stopped talking to me. I asked him why he stopped talking to me and he said “I just needed you so I wouldn’t fail that class. Thanks.” Then I said the worst statement ever, “I thought you liked me…” His answer: “If you looked like your mom I would totally date you. But you’re too ugly.” He straight out told me for the following two years of junior high school that I should kill myself. That the world would be better without me. Words are peoples strongest weapon. The damage takes so long to heal…if it ever does heal.
For a while after that I had guys tell me the same thing that Jerk said about dating me. If I looked like my mom they would date me. Well, I got color contact lenses (grey), I got blondish highlights in my hair, I got a makeover.
For close to two years I tried getting ‘improving’ myself. Then, one day, I was looking at old pictures of myself and I saw how dark my hair was. I hadn’t remembered my hair being that dark. I looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. Was I really this person in the mirror? Had bullying led me to become someone I wasn’t?
School stress and so much chemical products in my hair, lead it to start falling out in clumps. During a semester I ended up with a small bald spot on the top right hand corner of my head. I had to get treatment and let my hair grow out naturally.
I haven’t colored my hair again in close to 5 years. (Gerard has seen old pictures of Blond and/or Red-head me and says I look horrible….haha good thing I met him when I’d stopped dying my hair.)
Bullies are present everywhere. The hardest part is when they are present during those teenage years when you’re trying to find yourself.
As clichéd as it might sound: IT DOES GET BETTER!
BUT NO ONE, NOT A SINGLE BULLY SHOULD EVER MAKE YOU FEEL YOU’RE NOT WORTH SOMETHING.
Everyone is worth something. Everyone is precious.
No one is worth dying for.
You should never feel like you should take your life away just because a bully said something mean/negative/degrading to you.
There are lots of people out there who will listen to you.
People who care and will help you. Things DO get better.
If it seems like no one will listen, well… I will. I may not know you, but I’ll listen. I’ll listen and be here.
You are special. You are loved. You are wanted. You are unique. You are worth so much more than you know…
Don’t let bullies decide your life.
xoxo.
Till Next Time
Desirae
PS. I found this wonderful site and I'd recommend it.
http://www.stopbullying.gov/
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