Ridicule

Easy Target

I was listening to Radiolab on the train ride into work today. It was an episode which tangentially mentioned bullying, during a segment a middle aged woman broke down describing being made fun of by her sister years before in high school. Memories from far away came trickling unavoidably back to me.

I was a chubby weird kid. I got made fun of for being chubby and weird. Kids poking my little belly or pinching my junior love handles. I liked books and had a vivid imagination. Boys called me girly, sissy, gay, would push me down or slap books out of my hands. I was sensitive and so when I was bullied I would cry and be made fun of even more for crying. I didn't, and to this day don't, brush my hair. "You stick your fingers in a light socket?" "You forget your bath?" "Dirty dumby doesn't know what a comb is!" I have a black birthmark on the side of my head. "You rub poop on your head?" "You stick your head in an oven and get burned?" as I got older stuff like "You toast shit and use it as mousse?" back when mousse was a common hair product.

I vaguely remember being chased to the bus. Pinned down. Not attacked necessarily but made immobile while things were yelled in my face. I remember being pushed, thrown, and checked into lockers. I was once chased with dog shit, another time with a squirrel corpse.

These weren't every day occurrences but happened often enough to have a significant impact.

I got older, grew, and these incidents stopped completely. I don't imagine my experiences are singular or terribly extreme but it does breed a certain amount of resentment, anger, and at times strength. People who sailed through their childhoods didn't have the same kind of tempering that kids who've been bullied had.

I don't regret the past, I don't blame a soul. I am the sum of my experiences, I don't know who I would be had the social aspects of my childhood not been difficult.

Sometimes though.

Sometimes I wish I could wrap my arms around that chubby little nerd and tell him he's not alone.