Sunday, April 15, 2018

Living That Bullied Life

When I was growing up, there were bullies in school, but bullying was something that was kind of glossed over. It wasn't really an issue that was discussed much, which meant I had to deal with bullies without really having a word for the problem or an understanding of why people would be so mean to my siblings and me. Of course, I knew the specifics of why people made fun of us - we were the “stinky farm kids.” However, there was really nothing we could do to avoid being stinky. Since we lived and worked on the farm, it was hard for us to even realize we smelled bad. To us, it was just life.

During our elementary school years, kids didn’t seem to DIRECTLY taunt us too much about being stinky, but they still WHISPERED about it around us constantly. We started to be very aware that we were being talked about and would tell our parents, but nothing changed. Our parents, mostly “Dad,” would say that they would “show them,” but they never did anything. It was mostly a lot of talk from those who should have protected us. We still had to help with chores before school but weren't allowed time for baths or showers before we had to run to catch the bus. There was never even talk about changing our schedule so we could bathe daily; we were told we could only take baths every other day. So we would wear zip-up hoodies with the hoods tied tight around our faces or wear bandanas tightly wrapped around our hair to try and protect the stink from reaching us. Now I know that no matter what we did, the smell would permeate all layers and there was no getting away from it - unless we stopped working all-together.

By the time we made it to middle school, the bullying had reached an all-time high, and it was basically a nightmare to go to school every day. My place of escape had lost its glamour because kids were so evil. We continued to do what we could to not smell bad, which included wearing perfume and lots of deodorant, but nothing really removed the smell. 

Not only were we the stinky kids, but we missed the first day of school in sixth grade! Sixth grade was the first time we left our tiny school, where we knew everyone, to go to a large school that included children from three other schools. At the end of fifth grade, two of the best friends Tracy and I had suddenly became friends with each other and ditched us. So not only did we start in a new, larger school, where we had no idea where our classes were (this was the first time we changed rooms for each class, too), but we also had no friends outside of each other. Tracy and I didn’t have any classes together that year either, which sucked. 

Every year in middle school, we were assigned lockers. Sometimes we could pick a locker partner, and sometimes one was assigned to us. Having lockers for the first time turned out to be dreadful. Lockers were places where people did evil things and made us feel absolutely terrible. We had many car fresheners tied to our jackets, and we had room freshener sprayed all over our things daily. We would also find notes calling us “stinky” and telling us to take a shower and clean ourselves. The bullying didn’t stop at our lockers. We were also called names as we walked down the halls, and we were sprayed as we walked quickly from our lockers to our next classes. I still loved school, when I was in a class, and it was still better than being on the farm, but I hated the feeling of constantly being on edge and wondering what would happen next as I walked down the halls or went to my locker.

We didn’t just suffer while walking the halls of school. Kids thought it was fun to do mean things to us from the moment we got on the school bus until the moment we got off. Sure, there were some days when we were left alone. But more often than not kids would bring room freshener, body spray or perfume and spray us the minute we sat in our seats. Sometimes the spray went in our eyes, but it never seemed to matter. I don’t recall any kid ever getting in trouble for bullying us. However, it may have been that we didn’t ever tell on them because we didn’t want to be labeled as snitches. What I do know is that if I was ever given a chance to go back and relive any of my younger years, I'd pass.

Finally Starting Life

I will always remember the day my life truly began ― a couple of months before I turned 15. It was Friday, March 20, 1998. I was a freshman ...