I Have a Story to Tell — I Choose to Speak!

I don’t remember much about my younger years in school. I remember SCAMOS (her teacher’s goody-points incentives) and Logo (computer program language). And Little Foot was our class gerbil, and our sister school had a class iguana.

I also remember one girl saying to me, “People like you never amount to anything.” After that, I don’t remember much else.

Fourth grade, the year of isolation, indelibly left words, thoughts, and sentences trapped in my head. They were confined to the point where I could barely come up with something coherent to say. But the time I had to myself possibly did some good, as I couldn’t have cared less if I didn’t fit in with the “in-crowd.” However, what I really meant was that I couldn’t have cared less if I didn’t fit in with that “in-crowd.”

Now looking back, I realize that anything I might have said to affirm my self-worth was all a lie. I was fat and ugly and very much an outcast, and I knew it. I was only being defensive. I was trying to save myself the pain.

One would think that what that girl said to me would have strengthened my resolve to prove her wrong, but my countless shortcomings only did the opposite. Writing was all I had left…so I write because I can’t speak all the time.

The truth is… mean people suck.

Bullying comes in all forms, and it’s unfortunate that few adults recognize the signs and fewer try to intervene. Bullying is like a computer language. Widely known practices inevitably become obscure in a year or two, and not many can keep up with all the changes.

One thing is for sure, though, girls can be mercilessly cruel. They may not be as likely to use physical violence, but they have other methods to cause pain. I felt its sting in elementary school. Girls didn’t hesitate to spread baseless rumors, steal my belongings, and exclude me from anything and everything they could. And because of them, I lost a friend.

He was a very easygoing guy who loved to laugh. We had a lot of fun playing with his two brothers along with my own brother and two other guys. I hung out with a lot of guys back then, but out of all of them I thought of him and only him as the boy-next-door. But one day, he just slammed the door in my face. He said he was angry with me because I had been talking about him behind his back. I didn’t know what had happened until it was too late. His family moved away a few days later, and that was the last I heard from him. The only way I knew how to respond was with silence.

My free will keeps me moving.

I come from a not so well-to-do family. Some students like me will have a vision and dreams, and out of them few will actually make it happen. In my case, my dream was to attend a good school and go on to college. Those dreams came true. I was accepted to one of the top elite high schools in the country.

Being accepted to a high school of such caliber was a big deal for me because up to that point I had had low self-esteem. I felt as if I didn’t deserve a seat there to begin with, but I was plenty thankful that I had gotten in. So I showed my undying gratitude to them (the school) in ways people didn’t understand. You could say that I was a very involved cheerleader for many aspects of the school’s activities and programs. Being thankful was what kept me going for four years, doing what I did and as much as I did. But because of it, I was to blame. Any attempt to give a justification would have been disastrously misconstrued, and I would only be falling back into old habits.

I am now in college. Being able to attend college has turned me around, for it melted away my biggest burden. I feel as if I’ve been forgiven. Getting in took a lot of work, but here I am, and it has already been one year. And within that one year, college has already undone years of psychological damage.

I can speak. I’m speaking. I’m speaking more loudly — speaking more loudly than before — than ever before! I choose to speak!

The last time I saw myself in the mirror, I was beautiful. … I have nothing that would now be diagnosed as low self-esteem. I mean, I’ll have my time of woes and all, but doesn’t everybody? Nothing serious enough to last more than an hour…

Ayumi S. (her pen name), 19
Boston, Massachusetts

* Reprinted from Positive Teens Magazine Volume 6 Issue 5, Sept/Oct 2004

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