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teague ([personal profile] teague) wrote2005-03-10 05:00 am
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On the Subject of Bullying.

This is Re: http://www.livejournal.com/users/theferrett/466248.html which most of my friends have seen, but some may not have. So here goes. My big post about how my life was affected by my peers.Behind the cut because it's long.

Well let's see, where to start. Honestly I can't remember alot of my childhood. I blame this on a close brush with carbon monoxide poisoning, but that is a story for another day. I know I was always not with the "In crowd." I think some of this is due to the fact that I'm a redhead, and the fact I am an only child. I remember kindergarten being ok, but beyond that...I think I was just becoming more and more introverted. I remember being in therapy and telling my shrink that I didn't have any friends in 4th grade. I was begining to be pegged as a problem student.

The thing is, I was very smart. I was reading at levels higher than my peers. I did, and do, have a learning disability with Math. I'm dyslexsic with numbers, and have to be careful on adding machines and cash registers. However I was depressed mostly begining with my parents divorce, and I never really pulled out. School was a complete ordeal.

Oh God...I just remembered once getting a "Birthday spanking" from one of my school principals, that was an *actual* paddling. WTF was up with that? The door was open, and there was a teacher there, but...it really hurt. God, I remember being so confused because I didn't do anything. Aren't birthday spankings supposed to be playful? Wow...What a scary memory to suddenly surface.

Ok, maybe I've repressed some shirt.

I think I've been just as scalded by the adults in charge as the kids. Talk about bullying. I remember this one teacher. Ms. Neighbors. She was supposed to teach me Math and English. She was the one who said I wouldn't amount to anything. She also sent me to a school shrink who totally betrayed the trust I had built for people of his profession. He called me a con artist to my little 5-6th grade face. I was supposed to see him every week. He wondered why I never participated. I was having anxiety attacks. I was frankly shutting down more and more. If it hadn't been for the fact that I did have a couple of friends, I might've been alot worse. And I have sworn that if I ever have a school try to send my kid to a shrink without my knowledge, I will be coming and I will be bringing the wrath of Hera. I would almost rather hear about unauthorized corporal punishment, though that's not going to fly either.

I'm happy to report, in light of other stories that I have heard, that I was never physically terrorized. I was pushed down the stairs for no apperent reason in high school, but other than a bruised butt and pride, I was uninjured. I'm trying to keep this roughly chronological, so I'll get to that in a moment.

In elementary school most of the crap was physical insults. Most of that came from boys. I was called ugly, and I had the nickname Rabies follow me from a city school, to a county school, to a city school. Things even followed me to Christian Summer camp. I was accused of licking toads. Da fuck? There was other shit too that I can't quite recall all the details of. I do remember calling my Mom and begging to come home. She, not thinking it was as bad as it was, convinced me to stay. Hey, I wasn't a rebellious kid. I didn't argue with Mom. I just suffered. I was a natural born spitball target. I had no idea how hot I actually was. I know that sounds vain, but seriously, looking back...I think some of the crap eventually arose because of jealousy. That camp was where I met my first love. They say you never get over the first? Heh...It's true. Just some firsts leave scars. Again, a story for another day.

Junior high was surreal, but in a way a reprieve. LaGrange, in it's infinate wisdom (They had the Callaway Association, a private club the only prerequisite of belonging to was being white. I wish I was kidding) had decided to segrigate Junior High by gender. There was a Boys Junior High, and a Girls Junior High. Note the caps. They were called that. There was some teasing and crap about my cloths. I was a poor kid. But alot of the black girls were my neighbors, so it was not that bad. And I had three good girlfriends who sat with me at lunch. The only thing that stands out in my mind, because I was reminded by the stories of others, is that the Home Economics teacher once decided to teach a class on wearing makeup, and used me as a model. People complimented me, and I wanted to believe it, but when I looked in the mirror, I thought it looked kinda heavy. Now I realize that while the teacher may have had good intentions, it was likely I was being laughed at. By then I barely noticed. Oh, I do remember it was the start of the Devil Worship rumor, and that I was a lesbian.

The rumor that I was a Devil Worshiper cranked up to full blast in High School. In my freshman year it was hurtful, not to mention annoying. I got it from wearing alot of black. Quite honestly I was doing it for much the same reasons as Johnny Cash. It matched, and it looked good. It was one less choice I had to make in the morning befor school. I had become blithe to shit people were saying behind my back. I had friends. I had learned to spot, and gather other outcasts to my side. That's all that mattered. But people called me devil worshiper to my face. The fact that actually I was still a Christian just made that suck worse, but I had already realized that organized churches were no better than school, so I didn't belong to a church. I remember being invited to a party, just to be shunned during a kissing game. That was fun. And there was that pushing incident. Like I said, as far as I *knew* it was completely unprovoked. Maybe some pious soul suggested that the guy who did it, take the devil worshipper down a peg. I was walking down the stairs to go to class. He pushed. I fell, but fortunately not forward. I reflexively jerked back and landed on my ass. I saw him laugh, going past me. No one helped me up. I guess I had learned that no one would, because what I did, rather than tell a teacher, was to wait for him later, hunkered down so the throng of highschool bodies around me would provide cover. He came towards me, not noticing my presance. I rose, and kicked him dead in the shin, then slid my foot down his leg, and stomped his foot. He staggered back, stunned. I stood there, waiting. I guess I looked quite evil. He limped across the hall and would never challenge me again. Go me.

By my Junior Year I was entering the phase of officially not giving a fuck. I had my friends. I had a new love from another school. I was meeting an older group of friends who were enticing me to game with them, and seemed more my maturity level. I was getting into the more hardcore musics too. The first blushes of industrial, and mainstream Goth. Well..for Georgia. I hung out with as hardcore as you could get and not be into drinking and drugs. I avoided that, thanks to a loathing for the behavior of certain members of my family. (Wow..a third story for another time). I was embracing my inner devil worshipper. I remember a particular incident that involved these two sophmore girls. I didn't even *know* them, except that they were in my latin class. (Hmm...Latin? OMG I was worshipping the devil) We were known by "latin" names that we had drawn randomly from a hat. I had drawn Diana. Go fig! So these girls didn't know my real name. We were having a study period without the teacher in the room, which you know, became a friends talking period. I was reading, and I caught my name. You know how you can always catch your own name, like on loud speaker and shit. I tuned in. They were talking about me. Holy crap I was the most evil woman in school! I worshipped the devil, and did spells...and...and this one killed me...I sacrificed cats. Well, I couldn't stay out of this. I leaned in openly to listen, going, "Really?" They nodded earnestly and repeated what they had heard. I was like, "Oh my God!" and reached into my purse as they were shredding my good name to my face unwittingly. I pulled out my picture ID and held it up, my face going slack, and eyes dead. The blood draining from their faces was priceless. I suggested that they move seats away from mine, and they did. Holy shit...I had *power*. My senior year I had gone over to the Dark Side. Not literally. I was still loving and gentle to my friends, and my cats. But I wore horns for Halloween. Black people parted like the red sea. Sadly they were not my target, but the white people didn't notice at first. I had these two freshmen boys stop me on the stairs. (My god, LaGrange high had some fucking stairs.) They asked me if I worshipped the Devil. I told them, "Yes, and tonight is the full moon. We're sacrificing virgins. We'll be over at your houses at 8 o'clock. Wear something white." They *skittered* away.

I had learned to fuck back with my antagonists. I didn't use lube. I was brutal. I remember this one guy in one of my classes dared to hiss an insult at me as he put his hand on my back. He was lucky he moved when he did, because I swung. The blow didn't connect, but the teacher caught me, and asked what I was doing. I told her in front of the class, God, and everyone that moving he and I apart was a good idea because someone was going to get hurt. I believe I said, "You better keep this mosquito away from me." We were seperated. He liked to pick at me, but he never tried to touch me again. I learned to ignore what I realize now was an actionable amount of sexual harrassment. Those rich cunt Prep boys liked to bait me, asking me things like, "When are we going to go out?" in an obvious and sleazy manner. My usual answer involved, "When I can bring a sharp object to hurt you with." And I believe the last actual incident involved this guy named Jimmy. I headed into our mutual class, and he sleazed at me. "Heeeeeey Shan-non" Now..this is something that is hard to explain to men, but women know what I am talking about. They have this Chester the Molestor tone, and they look you up and down when they say it. Under my breath I muttered "Asshole." and he heard me. Get this. He *told on me.* The teacher, Mr. Adams had apperently had enough of us. We were both sent to the office. I was *burning* up. I had never been a problem in Mr Adams class. Not even with those jackasses. But here I was in trouble too, and it was 2 weeks to graduation. The assistant principal, a lady, listened to Jimmy get all kinds of dramatic about me calling him a "bad name." Holy crap, it sounded juvanile even then. Finally she looked at me and said, "Well, Shannon, it's two weeks until you graduate. Do you think you could just apologize to Jimmy, and we can forget out this?" I think I almost exploded. I sputtered, "I'm not apologizing to him! I ment to call him an asshole!" Oh..My god. She sat back. Jimmy looked triumphant. I realized what I said. I just then let it pour out. How Jimmy and his friends harrassed me, slimed at me, and generally made my school life alittle crappier. I said, "I'm sorry to cuss in front of you, but I'm not apologizing. Even if you suspend me." She looked at me, then Jimmy. He looked so fucking smug. She looked at me again. "Shannon, you can go back to class. Me and Mr. Jimmy have to talk." He gaped. I felt as though angels were singing to me. I wanted to hug her. I left. He came in later, looking dick spanked, and he never spoke to me again. Not even slimey. I graduated and I haven't seen him since. Probably sells used cars by now.

The epilogue to all this comes from a most amusing place. [livejournal.com profile] velvetsteel took me to the local strip dive for a ladies night. I was already seeing [livejournal.com profile] brian_sama by then. It was, as you might think, an estrogen freak show. But funny. I got a lapdance on stage. Eventually I went to the bathroom. Coming out I was faced by these two snotty females, who were obviously from the high class set in LaGrange. They looked and dismissed me. yeah, what ever, you're looking at the same sweaty men, in the same dive I am sister. I go to wash my hands. Suddenly, from the second stall, emerges a familiar face. I can't remember her name, but she was one of the Alist girls from Highschool. The girls that hung out with the boys that tormented me. She was three sheets and a pillowcase. She noticed me, and said, "Oh my God! Shannon Kight?" I was already cringing, and I turned to face her. Suddenly she *hugged* me. "How're you doing? Oh my God it's been years!" I'm looking for the camera. So are the two other haughty coochies. I said, "Um..Wow...You remember me?" I wasn't sure what else to say. She holds on to me and starts *gushing*. "Oh I admired you in high school because you were such an individual. You never let anyone tell you what to wear, or how to be. I was so jealous." Needless to say I was openly gaping. I thanked her, and wandered out to digest this. She suggested we get together sometime. yeah...right. still I went out to tell my companions this and we all basicly laughed. I mean...how often does *that* happen. We wondered what she would have thought, or said if she had been sober. In vino veritas. Hah...that's latin.

That's all for now, gentle readers. I feel like I just wrote Moby Dick. Just a final thought. I put this band on my user page. It is *particularly* for this subject. Feel free to ask for the code to take and share.
I will not stand for this

     
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