I never thought I was the fighting type. I can barely kill a bug, let alone harm another person. But you never know what someone is capable of until you push them too far.
In elementary school, I had quite a few friends. I was always invited to birthday parties and there was always a table for me to sit with at lunch. Kids didn’t tend to leave me out. I was friends with just about everyone in some way. That all changed when I started middle school.
Over the summer of 1990something, my elementary school friends and I had some sort of falling out. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what happened because honestly I have no idea. I’m sure it was one of those preteen girl spats that is life ending, but in reality could probably be solved with an afternoon movie play-date. My best friend at the time, let’s call her Bridget, had suddenly stopped talking to me for whatever reason kids do. We had had a friend one year older than us, who was already in middle school. Let’s call her Janet.
Well, Janet and Bridget knew that I had an account at the local video store. That’s right. The kind of store that rented VHS tapes and worked on the honor system. My parents had put my name on their account so that I could walk down there and rent movies for me and my brother to watch over the summer. In their never ceasing hatred of me, they rented a bunch of movies on the account and said they were me. Then they committed a sin of the worst kind. They never returned them. The fines racked up and my parents were notified. What ensued was weeks of drama between my parents and the video store, resulting in copies of the receipts being analyzed to check if it matched my signature. These were low tech days, my friends. Well, obviously I didn’t do it and we were cleared of all charges but the damage was done. They had messed with the wrong Britton.
Fast forward to the Fall. My my mind has wandered from this summer tragedy onto things like school clothes, boys and a new school. But Janet and Bridget had continually threatened me with violence through phone calls and yelling at me while they were being driven past my house. Those parents were a class act, of course. I was a semi-anxious kid and a worrier. While I was preoccupied with the start of a new school year for the most part, I still had a sinking pit in my stomach when I would think about what our first encounter would be like.
At first, nothing much happened. They had talked most of my other friends into hating me. For fear of retaliation, it worked and my other friends started ignoring me too. I don’t blame them. Our middle school was a combination of several elementary schools in the area so there were a LOT of new people to meet. Some of the friends I met then have stayed with me throughout middle, high school and adulthood. But Bridget and Janet mostly just ignored me, blatantly, whenever I was in their presence. Bridget had a few classes with me and would loudly show how much fun she was having or how hilarious she was in an attempt to be ‘bigger’ than me and make me feel that much smaller. I didn’t speak up a lot.
Then the taunting started. If you read my other post, Confessions of an Ugly Girl, you’ll know that I had some big ol’ glasses. Combined with my crooked teeth, terrible fashion sense and lack of any sort of beauty regimen, I was a gold mine for bullies. I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup. I had no idea how to do my hair other than just brush it. I was not like the other girls very much and I knew it. Bridget and Janet wore a lot of makeup. Used more hairspray in their hair than is environmentally allowed and knew exactly how to dress to be “cool”. I had no chance.
Mostly, it was just mean words. I can be pretty quick with a comeback when I need to be but when the threats started, I was terrified. I tried to never go to the bathroom alone, for fear of seeing them in there with no way to get out. Being anywhere in school, by myself, was out of the question. A lot of afternoons were spent crying in my room after school because it felt like the whole world hated me and wanted me dead. It was a tough start to middle school.
One day, Bridget, Janet and a gaggle of their friends cornered me during lunch period. At lunch the entire campus was open so you could eat in the cafeteria, play sports in the field, walk the halls or sit in the courtyard. It was a lot of freedom. I would eat and then try to hide until the bell rang. They found me on my way to my normal hiding spot. Then, they surrounded me.
It was like a pack of wild hyenas surrounding a dying gazelle. The look of hate and hunger in their eyes was one that I will never forget. Janet was the real ring leader, with my old friend Bridget as her mascot. But they were smart-they tried to never do their own dirty work. One of their followers was, let’s call her April. I will never forget this girl. At first, all they did was surround me and mock me. I stood there in silence, fighting back tears and trying to keep a stone face. My dad always taught me to never let them see me cry. So I stood there with a face like a marble statue.
Then the magic words came out of Janet’s mouth. “April, just push her. She won’t do anything. Push her.” Then a chant erupted. “PUSH HER! PUSH HER! PUSH HER!” The whole flock of them now pressuring April to physically harm me. Everything that happened next seemed to happen in slow motion.
April, with her jet black hair and posh denim jacket, took a few steps towards me. She pulled back her arms and shoved me as hard as she could, sending me stumbling back. I stood up. Looked right at her. And I punched her in the face. Then the world exploded.
Janet jumps on my back, all four feet of her. I was the same height then that I am now, which meant I was way taller than people for once in my life. Janet’s punching me in the side. I’m straddling April, flailing my fists and hitting anything they make contact with. It felt like I was running into a wall of water – expecting to hit something hard but seemingly hitting nothing. Bridget runs to Janet’s rescue and starts punching me in the head. I feel everything but see nothing. All of the evenings my dad spent teaching me about how to fight back came flooding into my brain. Finally after what feels like forever, but was more like around 60 seconds, teachers find us and pull us all apart. All of us are suspended immediately.
After explaining to my parents what happened, and bracing for the worst punishment of my life, I’m greeted with sobs and hugs. They saw what I went through every day and, though my mom did not condone violence, they were proud of me for standing up for myself. My mom fought the school for the rest of the week until I was reinstated. She showed them the long history of bullying I had suffered while there and the lack of anything being done about it. She won and I went back to classes.
I still endured bullying and taunting on and off for the next year or so. After that, it got much, much better. People move. They drop out. New faces change up the old cliques and soon everyone moves on. Some of the people who surrounded me that day, later became acquaintances in high school-some of which have stayed in contact. Some have seemingly disappeared.
I’m not proud of the fact that I contributed to violence. I’ve also never forgotten that day – Not how I felt. I will never forget their faces. This experience is part of who I am. It’s part of the fingerprint that is my life. It showed me that I can take care of myself when faced with a situation that will cause me bodily harm. It gave me the confidence to hold my head high and not be afraid of being alone. But I’ll always be a little scared. That worried little girl will always be a part of me.
Mixtape Musings 