I finally beat the bullies, and this is what happened.
I can vividly remember when my head got forced down the toilet by a group of bullies. I was a petite 12-year-old girl, and they were sturdy 14-year-old boys. It happened during morning break time at my school, on a chilly winters day, and I was terrified. They took me from the playground into the bathroom and told me I had to be baptized. They laughed and said I was ugly and stupid, that I would be better off dead. I kept quiet. I didn't want to make them mad, but I couldn't help crying and shaking. “Can I go home now? I asked nervously. “Shut up, you stupid cow, of course, you can’t”, they said with rage. There was no one around that could help me. All I could do was hope for time to go fast so that it would be over. The next minute, they were pushing my neck down a toilet, making me smell the remains, then flushing them so that the dirty water would splash all over my face. I couldn't breathe, and I was so afraid. In that brief moment, my world came crashing down. Everything I had thought about myself up to that point meant nothing. I felt worthless and useless like I had no voice. I couldn't defend myself, which made me feel utterly vulnerable and alone.
I had heard of this happening to others but never thought I would become a victim. The incident must have lasted 10 minutes, but to me, it was endless. I felt so defeated and humiliated. It was like everything moved in slow motion, and time stood still. Once they left, I managed to wash my face in the sink. I was so ashamed. The heavy tears made it impossible for me to pull myself together and get back to class. I locked myself in one of the cubicles and sat there for the next three hours in absolute silence.
This episode was one of many that went on for the next 18 months. It was, without a doubt, the hardest time of my life, and it broke my heart. I felt shattered and emotionally scarred. It was also when I learnt the most about myself and others.
“I've learnt that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” -Maya Angelou.
It all began one day in assembly. My class was doing its usual morning routine, and we were all standing in line, signing the school anthem. At some point, I decided to leave and go back to class because I felt unwell. As I walked back along the corridors, I saw a group of boys sitting on the floor. As I passed them by, one of them stuck out their foot, making me trip over. I fell flat on my face. All I could hear was laughter. “You made my shoe dirty, you idiot”, one of them shouted. I got up and ran away as fast as I could without looking back. “We will get you for that”, shouted the other boy. When I got to my class, I cried, as I knew what was coming. I had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and became a target of their twisted games for no specific reason.
The weeks and months that followed were filled with fear and anxiety. At first, they would give me slaps on the back of my head whenever they caught sight of me. That soon turned into punches on my shoulders and then high kicks whenever they saw me on the playground. One time they threw my school bag on the floor and ripped it apart between the four of them, making me pick up all the pieces. I was distraught. This wasn't something I could understand. I was confused and didn't know who to turn to. I had friends, but they were too afraid to get involved. The teachers turned a blind eye since this was the early 90s, and the school system hadn't yet become aware of this crude reality. My parents were oblivious to what was going on, as I did everything I could to disguise my feelings. I couldn't bring myself to tell them as I believed they would see me as a disappointment. These negative thoughts were rooted in my head and created a mountain of insecurities about myself and the world around me. I didn't know what to do or where to escape. I felt trapped and frightened as my environment was no longer safe.
Every time I looked in the mirror, I didn't like who I saw. Here I was at 12 years old, going into puberty, and having so many issues already. My reflection was abhorrent to me, as I felt it was my fault that I was being bullied. I looked like every other normal girl. Yet, I was tainted as someone who couldn't fight back, which made me hate my image. My confidence had been obliterated, and I was slowly giving in to the storm.
“I would rather be a little nobody than be an evil somebody” — Abraham Lincoln.
My fear grew deeper by the day, and the incidents became more frequent. I began to have nightmares and anxiety attacks. My grades were being affected, and every chance I would get to miss school, I would. I became a recluse and isolated myself from friends. Listening to music was the only comfort I had. Life was miserable, and I didn't know how much more I could take.
It had been 18 months of mental and physical pain; I was like a shell of my former self. School to me was now a place of torment and disillusion. I had got to a point in this awful journey where I felt that I needed to break free. Deep down, I was yearning to find my own voice. I knew I was better than the person I had become. There had to be something better than the hell I was experiencing. Then one day, everything changed.
I was sitting alone in the playground having a sandwich while my friends were in the school library getting some books. My bullies caught sight of me from across the field and walked hastily towards me. I sat there in silence. I remember thinking at that moment that I was so heartbroken; there was nothing more they could do. I was scared, but there was a familiarity to it all. One that was ruled by dreadful predictability, which was a sad truth.
I knew what was coming. The hurtful words and senseless punches. The cold glances and unforgiving actions. Humiliating insults. “You stupid bitch, get out of our bench”, they said. “Yeah, fuck off, or we will plaster you,” said the other. I felt something burning inside of me, a yearning to come out and stand up for myself. I stood upon the bench, looking down on them. I was scared inside but wasn't going to show it. They wouldn't see my weakness again. “No. You fuck off,” I said with an angry tone. I began repeatedly screaming at the top of my lungs as if it were a symphony of freedom. I couldn't stop. “Leave me alone”,, I shouted, like a broken record. “Go away”,, I said. I had my eyes closed and could feel my body entire body shaking, but I felt strong for the first time.
I opened my eyes and could see them walking away. “You're crazy”, one of them noted as he turned to look at me, but I didn't care. Fighting back felt incredible and empowering. In an instant, I had decided to take my life back and not allow anyone to hurt me again. I was taking control of who I was, and it felt amazing. I saw hope on the horizon.
“One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered”. — Michael J. Fox.
The following week I returned to school with a new attitude. I was no longer willing to bow down to my bullies. I had found an inner strength that I didn't know I had, and this was worth fighting for. It had given me profound courage and turned my fears into determination. This was enough to tear down the walls that were suffocating me.
The last incident I encountered with my bullies reaffirmed all of the positive feelings I was experiencing. I realized I was no longer their victim. They were now preying on a new boy who was very shy and frail. They had rid of me because they had seen strength and guts, which were qualities that made them feel uncomfortable. Bullies prey on the vulnerable and innocent people, those with gentle souls that won't fight back. The minute they are confronted, they lose their power, and their reign of fear is over.
One afternoon I was walking to the school library and passed by the toilets. I heard screaming, and loud noises and immediately knew what was going on. Even though I was afraid to go in, I knew it was something I had to do. I couldn't stand the thought of someone else having to go through what I did. As I went in, I saw the same bullies who had belittled me for 18 months holding this innocent boy by the neck. I could see the fear in his eyes and knew I had to act quickly. Even though I didn't know him, I was willing to help. I felt connected to him. We were equal in the face of adversity.
“Well, look who’s here. The mad witch”, said one of the bullies as he walked towards me. They all laughed, but the little boy was desperately crying. “You let go of him right now,” I said bravely. “Oh yeah. What if I don't? Asked the bully. As he approached me, I threw a hard kick in between his legs. I heard a scream as he dropped on the floor in agony. “Run”, I told the little boy. I grabbed hold of his arm and pushed him out towards the playground. We both ran together and didn't stop until we reached the principles office. There I sat and gave an account of my story, up until that moment. I was finally ready to address the issue and put a stop to what had been destroying me. I was no longer afraid to speak up.
“Sometimes when you're in a dark place, you think that you've been berried, but you've actually been planted.” — Christine Caine.
I learnt that by standing up for someone else, I was also standing up for myself. By showing courage, I was making a difference in somebody else's life. If every moment I endured led up to this, then I was grateful. I had come a long way and grown so much. I finally realised how strong I was and that no one had the right to push me down or break my spirit. Helping that little boy taught me about empathy, compassion, loyalty and bravery. I was proud of the girl I had become, and I wanted to share my experience. I didn't want others to live with the sadness and debilitating pain of being bullied. In the end, I saw the silver lining. I had discovered the best of me.
“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life, but define yourself.” — Tim Fields.
