In sixth grade I was bullied. I had to endure hard punches and kicks, slurs, insults, taunts and ostracism, was picked last in dodgeball - this idiotic system! - and there was giggling and finger-pointing. It is only in recent years that I have fully understood how much of an impression that time made on my soul. It was so long ago, and it was such a short period. But I lost a big piece of myself there.
When I launched my page "It's never too late to be who you are", I received a joking comment from a male acquaintance. He said "who else would I be?". It sounded obvious and sensible in a way, but it also showed that he didn't understand. For some people it seems so simple - they are just themselves from the cradle to the grave and never think about it, while others are searching for themselves throughout their lives, seeking their true selves that they were deprived of or gave up at an early age. I am one of those who have searched, and many are the detours I have taken to find my way back to something I already knew deep inside.
I was a strong and independent soul who had been taught at an early age by my parents that I was good as I was. I was equally loved whether I wore a simple sweater and comfortable but somewhat loose-fitting pants, or one of the pretty dresses my mother made for me. I rarely thought about what to wear, or what other kids chose to wear. But sometime in middle school, the lines started coming: Damn those ugly pants! The colors are all over the place! Baggy clothes! They should be tight! You ugly bastard! In short: Get in line! Don't be you. Be like everyone else.
What don't we do for love?
And I did it, of course. Straightened myself out. As best I could. And I found my own ways to be okay. I tried on different costumes, searched for myself. From hard-boiled Yellow & Blue snob to radical hard rock girl with worn jeans and self-rolled cigarettes. Throughout my teenage years and into my twenties, I searched for the little girl I had lost somewhere in childhood. And I know now that it is not until we find her that we come face to face with ourselves. - It is not until then that we are truly adults.
Why would I take those detours? I didn't want to fall in line, I wanted to be who I was. Being liked, loved, accepted is so fundamentally important to us humans. What are we not doing for love?
I was in the same class for nine years, and even though I had friends, I always felt uncomfortable, but it wasn't until the sixth grade that the bullying became real. There were probably several of us who were victimized in my class. One of my friends, we can call her Klara, has told me long afterwards how hard that period was for her. We had a rather dominant leader in the class, who didn't leave room for others to take their place. She had a court of admiring boys and girls around her. Their status was raised in her presence. It was very difficult to grow and dare to be yourself when she always set the rules.
Without her, Klara and I would have blossomed and had the space to be the rather wise, funny, kind and happy girls that we were. We would have been able to grow and mature in peace and quiet, help others to dare to be themselves, walk around in our own personal clothes and tell others that it's okay to wear what you want as long as you feel comfortable in it. Without her, we would have walked straight ahead.
It's not strength to push someone else
But stop for a moment. It wasn't all her fault, was it? Maybe we had our own responsibility too. We could have made a bigger deal of the situation. I could have demanded that the adults do something about it. Yes, I tried. But I was a child. Who wanted to be accepted by other children.
Why didn't an adult tell her that it was not okay?
By the seventh grade, the worst was over, but the class stayed together for nine years, all through primary school. It is difficult to change roles in an established group. I remember one music lesson when the teacher asked us what music we liked. At the time, the song Rose Garden by Lynn Anderson was high on the charts and when I was asked, I answered Rose Garden and heard our leader girl react with a contemptuous laugh. The guys around her fell into laughter.
When I think back to this time and to Klara, I realize that both she and I have gone our own way in life. We struggled to find our place in the unaccepting social climate of our class. We wanted to be ourselves and be accepted for it. And when I think about the leader girl and her court, I realize that they were actually quite insecure, unsure, lost and yes - weak.
It is not strength to push someone else. Was it perhaps the case that Klara and I were the strong ones? Was it our inner strength that some people found difficult to relate to?
What happens when we get older? Do bullies become adults? Do they grow up and realize the mistakes of their youth or do they find other, more sophisticated ways to push others to feel strong - to avoid hearing the voice that reminds them of the true child inside?