My dad once bitterly told me that I'm "Not the singer of the family," right after I sang in a talent show.
It's horrifying that my own father believes that my elder sister is the only one who is allowed to follow her dreams.
When I was little, I was extremely socially awkward and anxious. I had one friend who I spent all of my time with. She was also really socially awkward and shy, and looking back now, I realize that we probably used each other as a security blanket, allowing us to brave the terrifying abyss of kids on the playground. Simply having her by my side gave me a huge amount of comfort and peace, and I'm sure I did the same for her.
One day in fourth grade, we were on the playground together, and someone came up to us and said in a confident and booming voice, for the whole school to hear, "You two are together all the time! Don't you have any other friends?!"
We both felt embarrassed and ashamed, and didn't know how to respond. I don't think we even said anything back.
Those words would have stung no matter what, but they were extra hurtful because they were coming from our teacher. A teacher who was beloved and celebrated by everyone.
He died a few years ago, and the whole community was devastated.
I was only moderately devastated.
When I was 13, I moved in with my dad and stepmom.
My stepmom hated me with a passion, and I can remember her looking at me one day and saying, "The only thing you will ever be good for is laying on your back."
To this day I still have a problem being intimate with someone.
When I was in middle school, we had to read 25 books and write reports on them in order to earn our spot on a class trip at the end of the school year.
I was writing my own book in my free time, and I was really into it. I asked my teacher if it would be okay for me to submit pages from my original book instead of book reports on other books.
Instead of shutting me down and acting like it was just a stupid little project, she encouraged my creativity and let me share the pages with her instead of doing the book reports. She would read them with complete sincerity and respect, and then provide me with thoughtful and constructive comments.
One time she told me, "You could be a famous novelist."
It is because of her encouragement that I have always felt confident pursuing creative passions, even when they're against what everyone else is doing.
About a month ago I went out to dinner with my mom, brother, grandparents and my grandma's best friend and her husband. I was feeling pretty confident, so I wore a crop top that I thought was cute. When I came out in it, my mom didn't say a thing.
We got to the restaurant and as soon as we sat down my grandpa looked at my mom and said, "That's a little bit inappropriate for your daughter to be wearing, don't you think? I mean we wouldn't want anyone to classify her as the family whore, now would we?"
Instead of defending me, my grandma looked over and said, "A girl her size shouldn't wear such revealing clothes anyway."
I'm 5'6 and 130lbs, but my grandma was never over 100lbs until she was in her 50s, so I'm not up to what she sees as thin.
They didn't mean to hurt me, but I haven't forgotten it.
Every time I pick out something to wear, I think about what they said.
As we approach September 11th, it pains me sitting across from young co-workers who didn't experience this day the same way I did. To them, it's just a regular day. It doesn't occur to them that to me, being ten years older, this day and the days that follow are filled with memories and sadness.
Is anyone else here at work thinking about this already? Does anyone else annually dread the beginning of September?
These rhetorical questions are questions that I doubt anyone else is thinking about. And that's what makes me sad.
Wondering what this next generation will end up remembering - much like we aren't scarred by Watergate or JFK's assassination.
Senior year of high school I was placed in an AP English class despite my documented learning disorder specifically about my writing skills.
When I tried to inform the teachers of the accommodation that were suppose to be provided for me, she didn't believe me.
The first essay we wrote in class, I was not given the extended time I needed. When she had finished grading them and returned them, I was told the essay I had written "Was not equivalent to that of a high school level work."
I was not provided the necessary accommodations for the first quarter of the school year, and even when I was informed that I had the highest SAT score of my schools graduating class, the thing that still brings me to tears is the grade of my first essay senior year. Because it's something that I have struggled with for years, and to this day I still doubt everything I write.
Three years ago I was date raped.
I went out for drinks with a guy I'd met online. Had two beers, was far, far from drunk and decided to go back to his place. Things start to get heavy, he wanted to have sex, I asked if he had a condom, he said no, and neither did I, so I said no.
He begged.
I said no.
He said it'll be fine, I still said no.
He eventually said, "it's fine" and we kept kissing. Then I feel him penetrate me; I shoved him off me and leave quickly after.
After six horrible months, being depressed and suicidal, I finally decided to report him. I lived in Jersey so I saw a Jersey based rape crisis center who then helped me report it in NY. Once in NY I was bounced and forced between 4 different precincts. The first said they couldn't help me. The second said the rape happened in a different jurisdiction, the third (which was the correct district) wouldn't take me because they didn't believe me, so I went back to the second, they said they'd help. They took my report and sent me to the Special Victims Squad.
The Special Victims Squad didn't believe me. They called me desperate and said, "You don't know what Rape is, if you think Date Rape is real Rape." They claimed I was just pissed and "trying to get back at him" for him not wanting to date me.
As they shooed me out the door they added in, "Don't worry honey, you'll meet someone eventually. Just stay away from online dating."
Thanks for the advice.
In middle school I decided to turn my life around- I lost 25 pounds in 7 months by eating healthy and exercising. I joined cross county and swim team. I was finally confident in my strong, muscular, 125lbs body.
At the first school assembly freshman year, I was elected to give a short presentation on the sports offered by the school. As I stood up to speak in front of the school, one of the boys in my class said, "Fat ass" in a somewhat loud voice. The boys around him busted out laughing. I was so embarrassed that I could barely get through my presentation.
To this day, I still have a problem with my weight because of him. Six years later, I still hear his voice in my head when I look in the mirror.
Those two words are the worst two I've ever heard.
They came after being used for two years by a man I envisioned building a family with. I was completely blindsided. He never loved me. He never wanted me. He never planned a future with me, and for the life of me, I couldn't wash away the stain of his infidelity. Or mine. I couldn't wash away his touch or his children or his wife.
Every time our daughter cries, I hear him say, "I'm married."
Has anyone ever made a fleeting comment about you that immediately became tattooed onto the front of your brain for all of eternity, impacting your self-perception and self-worth? Whether it was an offhand comment made by someone you love and respect or a fleeting declaration by someone you barely know, we share the moments that stick.
