I know that you're hurting, and that you are miserable and humiliated and alone. I know this, because I've been there before. This is my story, one that I rarely ever tell, but one that needs to be heard.
When I was sixteen years old, I was invited to a party. It was the first time I had ever drank alcohol. Being the first time, I had no idea how much was too much, and didn't have any sort of gauge on my personal tolerance level. As a result, I drank way, way too much.
I somehow found myself alone in a room with a boy from school. He was someone who I considered to be extremely "cool." Definitely higher up on the social hierarchy than I was. He was the drummer in a band, had tons of friends, and the fact that he was even speaking to me was flattering. One thing led to another, and we began making out. I was elated. I couldn't believe it was even happening to me. "Wow, he really likes ME," I thought. In my head, I was making up elaborate fantasies in which I would become his girlfriend and suddenly everyone would like me and I'd be popular and my entire life would be SO much more awesome. Because honestly, in high school, this is what everyone desires, what everyone hopes for, what everyone is striving for. To be liked, to be respected, to be at the top.
So when he made it clear that sex is what he was after, I hesitantly went with it and tried to act nonchalant about it, even though inside, I was terrified. I was a virgin, and at sixteen, I keenly felt like I was the last virgin in my entire high school. As it turns out, I wasn't. Far from it. It just felt that way at the time.
This first experience with sex was forced and painful, and I remember saying "Ow...stop...this hurts." He asked me if I was a virgin, and I lied, because I was embarassed. He continued, and the alcohol started hitting me hard and fast and I began to pass out. The last thing I remember is spying him out of the corner of one eye, pulling on his clothes and walking out the door. I heard later, that he walked out into the party and announced to everyone that he "just fucked that girl with the short hair."
I woke up later, half naked, the blanket covered in blood. I was mortified and humiliated, and pulled myself together and tried to suck it up and act normal. I approached him and tried to talk to him, but it became very clear that he had no further interest in me.
The school year was ending, and there had been no repercussions for me, except for the fact that I had lost my long term boyfriend after admitting to him what had happened. The summer passed uneventfully, but when I returned to school for my junior year, it was a different story indeed. I quickly discovered that this boy who I had lost my virginity to, had a girlfriend. She had been told of what had transpired, and it became her personal vendetta to make my life a living hell. She was successful. A very large group of her friends and acquaintances launched a full blown attack on me that lasted for the next two years of high school. I was pushed into lockers, spit at, kicked in the back, and had pencils and full pop cans thrown at me. There was constant, daily verbal assaults from people I had never even met. "Slut" was the favored word. Even the boy I had slept with would chime in from time to time. I would avoid him as much as humanly possible, but at times I could not avoid him, and we would pass each other in the hall, where he would glare at me, smirking, and under his breath he'd whisper "whore."
I ignored all of it. I almost never spoke a single word, and most of the time, I would simply look in the opposite direction and keep on walking. I had always been taught that if you ignored a schoolyard bully, they'd stop. After all, someone who doesn't react is no fun to toy with, right? I kept thinking it would work eventually, but month after month of constant harassment made it very clear that it was not going to happen that way.
Perhaps the only thing that really saved me, at the time, was my involvement in an underground movement called "Riot Grrrl", made up of thousands of girls across the country who were rebelling against a male dominated system, and attemptying to unify young women to stand together instead of fighting against one another. It was because of Riot Grrrl that it was easy for me to identify and understand the undercurrent of my situation. The boy I had slept with was not going to have to face the consequences of his actions. He was male, after all. He was going to look awesome. It was his girlfriend that would feel the disrespect of having been cheated on, and she would make sure that I, in turn, would feel the most severe consequence of all. Because, after all, this is what women do. We fight over men, even when they are the ones at fault. Somewhere along the way, we are taught to do this. And we learn to hate each other.
The girlfriend approached me one day, and aggressively dared me to hit her. I just stood there, dumbstruck, trying to explain myself. "Why would I hit you? It's HIM we should be mad at. Why would you and I be fighting over this? I didn't know he had a girlfriend. He's the one who cheated on you. He's the one that should be punished. It doesn't do any good for us to be fighting against each other." She didn't get it. She couldn't possibly understand, because the teenage society that we lived in demanded that she "get even" at me for a crime that was committed against her honor, even though, on close examination, it didn't make any real sense at all.
At the time, I was unable to talk to my parents about what was going on in school. I didn't want them to know that I had lost my virginity. Giving them that knowledge felt like it would be worse than the bullying I was experiencing. I felt the same way about counselors and teachers. I just felt ashamed to tell the story to an adult. There was no one in any kind of authority that I could trust, and could confide in.
Eventually, I came up with an altered version of the story, and told my parents that a girl at school (and her friends) were harassing me because the girl's boyfriend "liked" me. My parents went to the school administration, pressed criminal charges, and tried to get me transfered to a different high school. The school arranged for a mediation session with myself and a few of the worst offenders. It was awkward and uncomfortable and it only slightly relieved some of the bullying. A transfer to another school was not allowed, and I became very aware that this would be my life until graduation. It was a miserable experience, one that pushed me into a deep depression and paved the way for an escape into drug addiction.
Today, I am 33 years old, and perspective brings so much to the table. One of the most important realizations I've made over the years, is that this group of kids from school did not hate me. They certainly acted as if they did, but in reality, every single one of them had only joined in to bully me because not doing so (or God forbid, sticking up for me) would have meant the possibility of being harassed themselves. None of them wanted to be in my shoes. Not even close. They couldn't afford to be rejected. I wasn't hated. I was simply a scapegoat in a situation where everyone was fearful of becoming the scapegoat themselves.
I want you to know that Junior High and High School are mini societies that only operate in this dysfunctional way until the moment graduation occurs. Afterwards, you walk out into a world where everyone is on equal footing. No one gives a shit whether you were Homecoming Queen or if you were the guy who puked all over himself at a party one summer. You can't use your high school popularity status to score a job, or be successful, or even to convince people to like you. Your slate is wiped clean. Your entire merit is based on exactly what it should be based on--your talents, your attributes, your humanity.
And then, as you grow older, an interesting thing happens. Those kids from high school, they all get old. They get fat and they lose their hair and they go gray and lots of them do absolutely nothing with their lives. The ones who bullied you, they are almost universally worse off than you ever were. And you are the one who eventually has the last laugh. I promise you that. I am on the other side now, where high school is a distant memory, only a small blip on the radar of a full and beautiful life where truly important things happen. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but there will come a time, when you can't even remember the popular girl's last name. When high school is the most meaningless portion of your existence. You only have to recognize that, ride it out, and be strong enough to break through to the other side of graduation. And then, you'll see that I wasn't bullshitting you after all.
When I was sixteen years old, I was invited to a party. It was the first time I had ever drank alcohol. Being the first time, I had no idea how much was too much, and didn't have any sort of gauge on my personal tolerance level. As a result, I drank way, way too much.
I somehow found myself alone in a room with a boy from school. He was someone who I considered to be extremely "cool." Definitely higher up on the social hierarchy than I was. He was the drummer in a band, had tons of friends, and the fact that he was even speaking to me was flattering. One thing led to another, and we began making out. I was elated. I couldn't believe it was even happening to me. "Wow, he really likes ME," I thought. In my head, I was making up elaborate fantasies in which I would become his girlfriend and suddenly everyone would like me and I'd be popular and my entire life would be SO much more awesome. Because honestly, in high school, this is what everyone desires, what everyone hopes for, what everyone is striving for. To be liked, to be respected, to be at the top.
So when he made it clear that sex is what he was after, I hesitantly went with it and tried to act nonchalant about it, even though inside, I was terrified. I was a virgin, and at sixteen, I keenly felt like I was the last virgin in my entire high school. As it turns out, I wasn't. Far from it. It just felt that way at the time.
This first experience with sex was forced and painful, and I remember saying "Ow...stop...this hurts." He asked me if I was a virgin, and I lied, because I was embarassed. He continued, and the alcohol started hitting me hard and fast and I began to pass out. The last thing I remember is spying him out of the corner of one eye, pulling on his clothes and walking out the door. I heard later, that he walked out into the party and announced to everyone that he "just fucked that girl with the short hair."
I woke up later, half naked, the blanket covered in blood. I was mortified and humiliated, and pulled myself together and tried to suck it up and act normal. I approached him and tried to talk to him, but it became very clear that he had no further interest in me.
The school year was ending, and there had been no repercussions for me, except for the fact that I had lost my long term boyfriend after admitting to him what had happened. The summer passed uneventfully, but when I returned to school for my junior year, it was a different story indeed. I quickly discovered that this boy who I had lost my virginity to, had a girlfriend. She had been told of what had transpired, and it became her personal vendetta to make my life a living hell. She was successful. A very large group of her friends and acquaintances launched a full blown attack on me that lasted for the next two years of high school. I was pushed into lockers, spit at, kicked in the back, and had pencils and full pop cans thrown at me. There was constant, daily verbal assaults from people I had never even met. "Slut" was the favored word. Even the boy I had slept with would chime in from time to time. I would avoid him as much as humanly possible, but at times I could not avoid him, and we would pass each other in the hall, where he would glare at me, smirking, and under his breath he'd whisper "whore."
I ignored all of it. I almost never spoke a single word, and most of the time, I would simply look in the opposite direction and keep on walking. I had always been taught that if you ignored a schoolyard bully, they'd stop. After all, someone who doesn't react is no fun to toy with, right? I kept thinking it would work eventually, but month after month of constant harassment made it very clear that it was not going to happen that way.
Perhaps the only thing that really saved me, at the time, was my involvement in an underground movement called "Riot Grrrl", made up of thousands of girls across the country who were rebelling against a male dominated system, and attemptying to unify young women to stand together instead of fighting against one another. It was because of Riot Grrrl that it was easy for me to identify and understand the undercurrent of my situation. The boy I had slept with was not going to have to face the consequences of his actions. He was male, after all. He was going to look awesome. It was his girlfriend that would feel the disrespect of having been cheated on, and she would make sure that I, in turn, would feel the most severe consequence of all. Because, after all, this is what women do. We fight over men, even when they are the ones at fault. Somewhere along the way, we are taught to do this. And we learn to hate each other.
The girlfriend approached me one day, and aggressively dared me to hit her. I just stood there, dumbstruck, trying to explain myself. "Why would I hit you? It's HIM we should be mad at. Why would you and I be fighting over this? I didn't know he had a girlfriend. He's the one who cheated on you. He's the one that should be punished. It doesn't do any good for us to be fighting against each other." She didn't get it. She couldn't possibly understand, because the teenage society that we lived in demanded that she "get even" at me for a crime that was committed against her honor, even though, on close examination, it didn't make any real sense at all.
At the time, I was unable to talk to my parents about what was going on in school. I didn't want them to know that I had lost my virginity. Giving them that knowledge felt like it would be worse than the bullying I was experiencing. I felt the same way about counselors and teachers. I just felt ashamed to tell the story to an adult. There was no one in any kind of authority that I could trust, and could confide in.
Eventually, I came up with an altered version of the story, and told my parents that a girl at school (and her friends) were harassing me because the girl's boyfriend "liked" me. My parents went to the school administration, pressed criminal charges, and tried to get me transfered to a different high school. The school arranged for a mediation session with myself and a few of the worst offenders. It was awkward and uncomfortable and it only slightly relieved some of the bullying. A transfer to another school was not allowed, and I became very aware that this would be my life until graduation. It was a miserable experience, one that pushed me into a deep depression and paved the way for an escape into drug addiction.
Today, I am 33 years old, and perspective brings so much to the table. One of the most important realizations I've made over the years, is that this group of kids from school did not hate me. They certainly acted as if they did, but in reality, every single one of them had only joined in to bully me because not doing so (or God forbid, sticking up for me) would have meant the possibility of being harassed themselves. None of them wanted to be in my shoes. Not even close. They couldn't afford to be rejected. I wasn't hated. I was simply a scapegoat in a situation where everyone was fearful of becoming the scapegoat themselves.
I want you to know that Junior High and High School are mini societies that only operate in this dysfunctional way until the moment graduation occurs. Afterwards, you walk out into a world where everyone is on equal footing. No one gives a shit whether you were Homecoming Queen or if you were the guy who puked all over himself at a party one summer. You can't use your high school popularity status to score a job, or be successful, or even to convince people to like you. Your slate is wiped clean. Your entire merit is based on exactly what it should be based on--your talents, your attributes, your humanity.
And then, as you grow older, an interesting thing happens. Those kids from high school, they all get old. They get fat and they lose their hair and they go gray and lots of them do absolutely nothing with their lives. The ones who bullied you, they are almost universally worse off than you ever were. And you are the one who eventually has the last laugh. I promise you that. I am on the other side now, where high school is a distant memory, only a small blip on the radar of a full and beautiful life where truly important things happen. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but there will come a time, when you can't even remember the popular girl's last name. When high school is the most meaningless portion of your existence. You only have to recognize that, ride it out, and be strong enough to break through to the other side of graduation. And then, you'll see that I wasn't bullshitting you after all.