When I told a friend that I had been raped, she asked me, "Was he at least kind about it?"
I was dumbfounded, so I didn't say anything except no.
This still bothers me, and I am shocked by the way our culture portrays and views this horrendous criminal act.
Growing up, my family didn't have much money. My parents always tried the best they could to provide for me.
In 8th grade, my mom treated me to a new pair of pink lace-up work-style boots from Kmart. I was so excited about them and confident that I could rock them, until I wore them to school.
After a day of awkward stares, I was walking to the bus stop when one of the popular kids told me, "Your shoes are very pink."
I excitedly replied, "Thank you!" and I was feeling suddenly confident again.
He chimed backed in as I was walking away, "I never said I liked them." And I was immediately shot down.
I went home and cried that night, and never wore the shoes again. The shoes my mother worked so hard to buy.
It's funny how words can hurt a child so deeply.
I moved to the USA from Costa Rica when I was 10 years old. English was not my first language, but I was doing pretty well.
In 8th grade when I was 14, my school went on a trip to saint Augustine, FL. Everyone decided to get henna tattoos, but I didn't have enough money for one.
When one of the chaperones asked why I wasn't getting one, I said, "I just don't want a TA TU." (I mispronounced it because of my accent.) She laughed and told me to just call it a tat. I tried to say it that way, and then I told her that I thought that made me sound dumb.
As I walked away she turned to her son and said, "She sounds dumb anyway." They started laughing.
I turned around and told them that they weren't being nice, but they didn't care. They just kept laughing at the 14 year old girl who had an accent.
I have always loved performing, so I was thrilled when I was cast in a leading role in my high school's musical as a sophomore.
After an awesome opening night, a boy who had graduated the year before (and who had been the lead in previous musicals) approached me backstage.
He said, "I was so impressed with your performance! I'm awarding you the Sophomore Star!"
He said that it was a secret, word-of-mouth honor given by the musical theater alumni to the underclassmen they knew would go on to do great things. He had received the award as a sophomore, and so it was his prerogative to pass it on when and to whom he saw fit.
I think even at the time I knew that he was making this up, but I didn't care. It was so kind of him to find such a special way to make me feel important.
Even now, as an adult, when I am nervous before a presentation at work, I remind myself that I am the Sophomore Star, and that I will do great things.
For years, since I was a kid, I was ridiculed. Having been overweight and friendless for a long time, I was always the girl in the corner. The girl that never participated in group activities, the girl that never left her house, or always chose to stay in the classroom rather than going out to the playground.
When I was diagnosed with anxiety, nothing changed. Except that a few people started to know who I was because of sudden panic attacks I would get in class.
My parents were always gone, and they didn't even have a clue as to what was happening. And when they found out, they didn't care. They blamed me and told me to get over it, saying, "Life only gets worse."
The years passed and I began to grow close to one boy. Let's call him T. He made me feel in a way happy. The relationship was completely platonic. I started to get terrified that he would grow tired and leave me when I was finally feeling happy. So I began pushing him away. We stopped talking.
I currently attend a university, one I intentionally picked to get away from familiar faces. Except, there was one familiar face. And I didn't mind so much that it was T.
The first semester of college is always the difficult one, some people told me. They weren't wrong. But T made it manageable. One night, when I was alone in my dorm, I borrowed my roommate's scale, fearing I had gained the "Freshman 15." I was right.
I broke my full length mirror. I cried. I bled. I had an anxiety attack and I trashed all of my food that was in the fridge.
Someone knocked on the door, and I gathered myself the best I could and quietly announced that I was studying. When I heard a familiar voice say, "Are you decent for me to enter?" I wanted to scream. I was lying on the ground, a hot mess, and didn't want to see anyone.
I replied, "Yeah, but–." I forgot that my door was unlocked, and he stepped inside.
He sat down and held me. He told me something nobody has ever said before.
"Life is not an easy journey, and it sure as hell is not meant to be beautiful all the time. But you are f*cking amazing and strong, because I know you're going to stand up, take a shower and tomorrow you're gonna walk outside and smile at everyone. Damn, you're amazing."
I started crying, of course, because what he said was more than truth. It was my life for years. Something nobody ever noticed, but I screamed for someone to see.
As a kid, I was always social and funny. I loved life, and I loved laughing about inside jokes with my friends.
One day in 7th grade, my two best friends sat me down to stage an intervention.
One of them said, "We've been discussing this, and we need to confront you."
I had no idea what was going on.
The other friend said, "You always bring up inside jokes from like, weeks ago. And they're old. You can't do that."
I was shocked and hurt. But I didn't feel like my friends were being ridiculous for banning me from bringing up funny stories from weeks ago. I was twelve and impressionable. So I believed that my tendency to laugh about "old" jokes was "wrong."
I became very conscious and careful about the expiration dates of my jokes.
Even now as an adult, when I hear people reminisce about stories and experience from weeks, months, even years ago, I think to myself, "Wait, I thought that that wasn't allowed."
Growing up, I was always a little on the curvy side. I developed very early, and by age 8, wearing a bra was not even a question.
One day while walking to the local park with my neighbor and her granddaughter, the granddaughter turned to me and said, "I don't know how you're going to play at the park. You're probably going to break the slide going down, because you're too fat."
I felt the tears begin to swell up in my eyes. I turned to go home, but I was too far to walk on my own. My neighbor saw me begin to tear up, and all she said in response was, "Well, are we going to cry or walk to the park?"
Even as a child, I knew that the way they were treating me was wrong. I trudged on to the park, but didn't get on any of the equipment.
Ever since this experience, I always feel like everything I sit on is going to either break, crack, or fall apart.
In 7th grade, my best friend and I both made it into the final round of a school wide-spelling bee. We were the only two people left standing, which was a pretty big thing. We were the best spellers in the whole school!
The winner would advance onto a regional tournament among the winners from a lot of different schools.
I ended up winning the bee, and my best friend cried because she lost. She was so devastated that she had to go home.
She never congratulated me or told me good job.
Now we're juniors in high school, and I can honestly say this story is a perfect example of our relationship and how it still functions today.
One day in 8th grade, while waiting for my parents to pick me up, I was talking to my ex boyfriend and his group of friends. My ex and I had just broken up, but we were still on good terms.
While we were all talking, my ex's brother interrupted us and said, "You're so ugly. No one will ever want to date you, besides my brother."
I've always been bullied and called ugly, but it hurt even more coming from someone who actually knows who I am.
I'm still not over the insecurities that came from middle and high school bullying. And I'm starting to think I never will be.
"You look so thin, you could be a holocaust survivor!"
Said to me by an acquaintance, thinking I would find it funny. I didn't.
Has anyone ever made a fleeting comment about you that immediately became tattooed onto the front of your brain for all of eternity, impacting your self-perception and self-worth? Whether it was an offhand comment made by someone you love and respect or a fleeting declaration by someone you barely know, we share the moments that stick.
