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During this period of my life, most of the kids who picked on me were in Kendra’s grade, probably because I spent most of my time with Kendra and her friends. A lot of her friends didn’t like me. My reputation for being a “misfit” spread around our small school fast. According to Paley (1992), a child’s reputation usually follows them from kindergarten through all their school years.
It was mostly the girls who harassed me in late elementary school. Most of the harassment centered around the fact that I went through puberty early. According to Hazler (1996), the worst time for children to get victimized by their peers is during puberty. Although peers can be a support to each other as they go through these changes, those who are not going through these changes at the same rate as others are often targeted for abuse. Girls who mature early really stand out as different from the rest. The fact that I developed early made me one of those easy targets.
They grabbed my tits
By the beginning of grade five, I had been wearing a bra for a year. My breasts were bigger than those of most of the girls in the school. Not believing my breasts were real, the other girls called me “Tissue Tits”. I used to try to explain to the girls that my breast were real, but they wouldn’t listen to me. One day, the girls who teased me went too far, they sexually assaulted me.
It happened after lunch when I went to the washroom. Some grade six girls were in there fixing their hair, and they started calling me “Tissue Tits”. But they didn’t stop there. I told them adamantly that my breasts were real and I did not stuff myself. They asked me to prove it, a request I strongly refused. Not accepting my refusal, they grabbed me and pulled me into the stall and two of them put their hands inside my bra and squeezed and pinched my breasts hard. They were silent for a moment, realizing that they were real. But after a moment they decided the truth was unimportant. One girl grabbed a handful of toilet paper and put it in my shirt and yelled “Tissue Tits, Tissue Tits!” The other girls apparently thought this was a great idea. They started yelling the name and throwing toilet paper at me.
yelling the name and throwing toilet paper at me. The bell rang and they went back to class. I stayed in the washroom for a few minutes to pull myself together and to make sure they were gone.
I was upset for two reasons: I felt shame and shock that people had touched my breasts, and anger that after they assaulted me and found out my breasts were real, they kept the truth to themselves and continued to call me “Tissue Tits”. This name would follow me for the next three years. Its effects were so long lasting that a girl I met in my twenties, who was friends with some former students of that school, asked me if I stuffed my bra when I was young. Names called in school can cling forever.
I had felt helpless before, helpless to make friends, to stop people from laughing at me, to stop from getting beat up. But this was the first time I was helpless over an intimate part of my body. My budding private parts had become public, my sexuality was not my own. People touched my breasts without permission and made their own judgements and there was nothing I felt I could do about it. This feeling of powerlessness became deeply ingrained. As I grew older, I gave up even trying to stop people from fondling me. I let people touch me because I had learned I was helpless over my body, my protests meant nothing.
When I entered junior high (grades seven to nine), peers continued to pick on me. Some of Kendra's friends made fun of me and harassed me consistently. Increasingly though, the most embarrassing harassment came from the boys. Whereas the other girls in junior high were starting to get noticed by boys, I became the butt of their jokes
Barney’s big joke
I remember hanging out with Kendra and her friends and being approached by Barney the grade eight class clown. He walked up to me and professed his love on his knees. I told him to go away. I was embarrassed because everyone was laughing at me. Barney grabbed my leg and wouldn’t let go. If I moved I would drag him along with me. Everyone thought this was hilarious. Things like this happened on a regular basis in junior high.
By the end of grade seven I was begging my mother to let me transfer to a new school, where no one knew me and I could start over, but she would not listen. She thought I was exaggerating because she couldn’t comprehend that people would not love her beautiful baby as much as she did. I kept most of the severe abuse happening at school to myself as I was very embarrassed about it.
During my stay at junior high I wasn’t just helpless, I was fearful and embarrassed. According to Hazler (1996), fear is something a lot of victims of bullying experience because they feel powerless to stop the abuse. It seemed to me there was no where safe in school from these attacks and ridicules. These situations made me feel very
embarrassed that there was an audience seeing me in this situation. Transferring to a new school was the only way I could see out of this mess, but that wasn’t about to happen until senior high (grades ten to twelve).
Unfortunately, some of my most vulnerable feelings of helplessness occurred during my first year of senior high, when I was forced to attend a small all-girl school. The girls at this school were very intolerant of difference and I dressed purposely in an unconventional style. I do remember being happy that a girl named “Jill” befriended me or so I thought.
Back-stabbing bitch
I met a girl named Jill when I started senior high, who pretended to be a great friend. She was popular and she actually seemed to like me! I was surprised and happy. We sat together in English class everyday for weeks. Finally, I decided Jill was such a good friend I could trust her with a secret that was bothering me. I confided in her the painful details of being sexually abused by a friend that summer. The day after I told Jill this secret, it spread like wildfire around the school. The girls at school made little jokes up about it and used to yell them at me in the hall. The abuse that I had wanted to forget had made me, yet again, become the butt of everyone’s joke. What’s worse, by confiding in Jill, I had been unknowingly instrumental in my own undoing.
As I reflect on this memory I still remember the betrayal I felt. My good friend Jill had betrayed my confidence. I felt stupid because I had learned in the past that I shouldn’t trust kids in school, that they will always pick on me and there was nothing I could do about it. I had hoped now that I was older that things had changed. But Jill’s actions made me feel as helpless as I had been in kindergarten. Jill wasn’t the only girl giving me a hard time. A group of senior girls used to enjoy making jokes at my expense. I particularly remember trying out for the school play.
A fledgling actresses dies
I had always wanted to be an actress as far back as I can remember. I tried out for several plays in junior high, but never got a part. This had not quelled my thirst for the stage. When I reached senior high I was even more excited about it, because senior high plays were performed on stage in the auditorium, and members of the general public, not just parents attended. With a giddy enthusiasm I tried out for the school Christmas play. When my name was called I jumped up on stage. As soon as I walked across the stage, the other girls waiting for their turn started laughing and calling me names. I turned around and left the stage without finishing my audition.
This is just a small sample of the things I had to face at that school (see figure 2.9). Every time, I walked down the hall I would be called a name or tripped. There were girls who threatened to beat me up if I didn’t stop spiking my hair. Again, there was no where at school to escape rejection. By this point I was so fed up with rejection that I skipped school whenever I could so I wouldn’t have to face this treatment. A lot of victims of bullying, fearing maltreatment will try to avoid school (Hazler, 1996).
This year of senior high was very painful. It seemed teasing was harder to take as I got older. I think at fifteen, I was starting to feel like an adult. I had friends outside of school and I was even dating, so it was humiliating to go to school and be treated the same way I had been treated as a small child. But again, I was helpless to change my situation. Some of the girls in the small senior high I attended had gone to junior high with me, and had brought my old reputation with them. It doesn’t take long for the stories to circulate around a small school. Researchers have differing opinions on why children are rejected, but most agree that reputation can keep the cycle going. As I started my second year of senior high, things got even worse. The name calling escalated to dramatic proportions.
Another HUGE thanks to Catherine for sharing her story! Next Edition will be coming you way Wednesday! Remember if you have something you'd like to contribute, or questions you can facebook me OR fire me off an E-mail nancy.wood@mbsradio.com
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