So, recently it came to mind that I should tell you a bit about myself, and through sharing my story you might better understand my perspectives (and me as well).
I was born in a small town in Oklahoma (yes there are black people there) in a somewhat unique situation. Due to zoning laws my grandfather acquired some property on the “white” side of town (we were still in/adjacent to the black part of town), and subsequently my early education was spent in a predominately white school. To put things into perspective, there were 4 black kids in my entire school; me, my cousin (who lived in the same residence), and two other black boys. Growing up my grandfather sought to prepare me for attending school by giving me a few life lessons: prepare to be picked last, they aren’t going to like you, they aren’t going to want to talk to or play with you, etc. Luckily my introvert soul was prepared/designed to endure such treatment. Frequently I was found with a book and over time (perhaps because I was so cool and unbothered by the exclusion) I began to find that I was included more and more. In fact, it didn’t even dawn on me as a child that I was not being included because I naturally prefer minimal interaction until I warm up to a person.
Right away I began to garner attention from my teachers. My child’s mind did not perceive the racist intent behind there interest but that interest lead to an interesting outcome- they discovered that I was smart. Mind you that was not the intent behind their probing; they were looking for the “issue” with me, however they eventually settled on the fact that I was bright, and I began taking advanced classes. Honestly I found a true home in the gifted program. I was allowed to learn freely, teachers trusted my judgment and generally (for the most part) allowed me access to learning devices. This meant frequent trips to the library, access to the computers (yes my school had them back then), regular field trips to museums, classes in science at an early age, and general exposure to culture. These experiences shaped my young mind into a sharp, free-thinking entity and planted the seed for a strong passion for Montessori schools and independent learning.
This time was not free from issues. I had my fair share of experiences with racism, however for the most part I found warm, welcoming teachers who had a genuine desire to cultivate my mind. Couple that with the self esteem exercises and sense of accomplishment gained from glowing report cards and consistent academic achievements and you had the makings of a confident, glowing, enthusiastic young person. Over time, I became well known for my intellectual prowess and it was viewed as an accolade. Fellow students began seeking my opinion to settle disputes. While it was not a role that I desired (often the offending person/side would harbor some negative emotion initially) it was a role that I undertook, and my experiences therein developed an understanding that most people act on emotion with few guiding principles to determine right from wrong; people simply felt desires, and assumed that desire was equivalent with virtue. However I realized that if I explained things correctly and adequately (although initially miffed) people would eventually come to a point of understanding and acceptance of a way of interacting that was beneficial and peaceful for all involved. Thus I lived the role of the peacemaker amongst my classmates from kindergarten until fifth grade when I moved away.
Fifth grade marked a dynamic change for me. My mother was engaged to a man from Cleveland, Ohio (the Big City!!) and with the birth of my sister we were to move there to join him. Excited does not even begin to describe how I felt when thinking of all of the wonderful new opportunities that I would be faced with in a world so much bigger than my small town home. Boy was I wrong. My comedy of errors began with introduction to the “uniformed” life. Upon arriving my mother learned that I would be required to wear a uniform, which she was not prepared for at all. She went out to the thrift store and picked up some uniform compliant clothes. What she did not know (not that she would have cared) was that there was a certain “etiquette” to uniforms. What I later came to realize was that the uniform policy was implemented because there was a strict competitive nature in fashion; the popular kids wore name brands and expensive clothes to set themselves apart from the “others” and although we had uniforms (i.e. dress code) the popular kids circumvented this rule by buying name brand “dress code” clothing. Additionally, the high hemmed pants that I was accustomed to (to avoid the bottoms of your pants getting dirty…duh) were deemed floods and a sign that your parents could not afford to buy you properly fitting clothes. The traditional southern perspective that a well dressed child was a child wearing clean, practical, un-tattered clothes was not adequate in my new home. This issue was further complicated by the fact that quite a few boys took an interest in this new, exotic girl. You may think that would be a good thing but no, it stood to further isolate me from the other girls who labeled me as cold (because they asked me to come play with them in the snow-we were never allowed to play in the snow in Oklahoma, plus the clothing that I had was not designed for cold weather, so when they saw me huddled next to the building after being turned outside in what I perceived to be recess inside weather and I responded that I was cold they viewed the statement as being indicative of my disposition), the girl who was shocked because we did not have gym every day and had never heard of a girl push up (in Oklahoma gym was daily and there was no difference in the physical expectations between boys and girls so I was utterly shocked by these girls that struggled to do the simplest of exercises), plus I seemed to think highly of myself in spite of the fact that I did not have any of the traditional markers of the “haves/popular kids.” Naturally there was a target on my back immediately after my arrival.
By the end of my first day I was receiving threats to beat me up after school. This was hard for me to understand because I always got along so well with others, in fact I was usually the mediator. What I didn’t understand at the time was that this was a gut check. In that divisive social strata people were looking for easily intimidate individuals to build their reputation on. Luckily (although I was Very afraid) I stood my ground and the chants for my blood faded to whispers. Eventually I fell in to a friend group with the artsy kids (an identity I never knew growing up because most of the kids in my small town school revered the arts and thought it was cool- it was strictly a matter of talent), and thus I began developing an identity, although I didn’t understand what was happening initially.
As I entered middle school the chasm of my inequities widened. I was thrust into a pool of life-long cliques while I had only burgeoning sprouts of friendship with kids that I hardly saw anymore, so naturally it was time for another gut check. Two girls set their sights on me as someone that it would be acceptable to bully, so they began their relentless assault. They played various games, pretended they wanted to be my friend, etc. all with the end of terrorizing me to enhance their social status. I talked to my dad (step dad) and he explained it matter of factly-“They are treating you this way because you don’t have any back,” (back-what’s back…back is support, people that have your back; if you don’t have it, you’re easy pickings). That was a very frustrating time until my dad told me to drop the name of a cousin (his cousin to be precise) who was attending the same school but she recently had to “handle” some girls that were giving her trouble. Although I was fundamentally against it (I still believed in connecting with people though genuine communication and interaction) I decided to let it “drop” that this girl was my cousin. The bullies shrank away with cries of “please don’t have her beat us up”…that wasn’t the type of thing that I would do anyway, and while I was grateful to the cease of bullying, I was saddened at the required action and the fact that a peaceable solution could not be reached.
That being said I continued my life on the “D” list. I got talked about and was subjected to the maniacal machinations of the popular kids until eventually there came an opportunity for my light to shine. The teacher was teaching a lesson on Pocahontas, and being from Oklahoma I was well versed on the subject. Granted, I did not intend to start an uproar, however the teacher began speaking gross inequalities that did not sit right with my understanding of history, so naturally I spoke out. I called him out on so many things and I was so thorough in my understanding that he paused the lesson (presumably to fact check) and when he learned that I was correct they decided to skip the chapter. I gained a sense of celebrity amongst my peers. Instead of being the weird anti-social girl with her face in a book who was messing up the curve (curve-what’s that) and is kissing up to the teacher by doing her summer reading projects (yall don’t actually do them up here-they were Required in Oklahoma), I became the knowledgeable sister who could stand against the teachers and in sight of my wrath could shut down the inequality of pseudo-knowledge and it felt good. Unfortunately that good feeling would be short lived.
In seventh grade I moved to a new community, and although I was not new to the Cleveland area I still had a remarkable first day. Yet again I was plagued by uniform issues while my first school critiqued the quality and fit of my uniform, this school admonished my because I was wearing a uniform…In those days dress cod schools had “dress down” days which were days that the students were allowed to wear regular clothes. Unbeknownst to me I began school on a dress down day in my shiniest, best fitting uniform. In a way this was social suicide because typically the kids that wore uniforms on dress down days were the ones that were so poor that they didn’t have any clothes except their uniforms. At the time I felt sad at my faux paux, but as an adult I am glad that I got to recognize the judgmental, phony people early; although it did not feel good at the time because they were attacking me. As I navigated this new school I was picked on relentlessly. This went beyond the typical bullying for position bullying into the deep=seated trouble at home that everyone ignores bullying. Although now I can look back and visualize the potential issues that were at play for the involved individuals, at the time it was very hard, especially considering I was a child too. Subsequently I dealt with a lot of trauma from phony friends to the ump-teenth power, to harassment; sexual and otherwise. Initially I was going to tell the stores, at least some of them, but as I ponder the lives that led to those actions I find it unnecessary to do so. I don’t know…I feel myself reaching a sopping point…if I ever have anyone actually read this blog and they are curious about learning more about me, maybe I will do a part 2 (or 3 or 4, or 5 depending on how curious), but for now I hope this shed some light on your host smiley (if you wanted it). Until we meet again…
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