The Victim

What I would like to focus this entire blog, or I should say this particular blog on is something near and dear to my heart: the victim. You see I started out in this role. I don’t know if by conscious choice or plain intimidation, but after some experiences I assumed the role. And I’m going to get about as raw, naked and vulnerable as you’ll probably ever see up to this point, if you’ve been following.

I never wanted to be the victim, but that didn’t matter. Like I had a choice. I guess I fit all the criteria if you go down the checklist. I had them all. For one, in my neighborhood I did not look like everybody else. My last name was awkward and long, and didn’t make much sense to them(I dreaded saying my name out loud, and hated the sound of it. Made me not want to speak) Already I was in the minority. Most kids didn’t have blonde hair and a different hue of skin. I didn’t only see it; I felt it. I stuck out in other ways too. I wasn’t tall, and I was fat. It’s really hard saying a lot of these things because I took such abuse not only from children, but adults who thought they could say whatever they want to me. I absorbed all of their comments and taunts. On top of these obvious setbacks my vision was already poor, so I needed glasses (very ugly ones to boot) at age 8. What I didn’t need is the acute perception I seemed to be born with, and no one knew more than me. I knew very well what the world thought of me, and I didn’t like it. I knew what I saw in me, and I hated it. The more I heard, the further I felt these nails of inadequacy drive themselves harder into me. The harder they were driven, the more withdrawn and isolated I became. What this showed to the outside world was probably one glaring word: Target.

By the time I was of age walking to school, I was already being brutalized on the playground, in school and away from school. I didn’t know what to do, I was unprepared. Did I deserve this? I felt horrible enough about myself, and this made me feel worse. By the time I was ten I had a knife pulled on me by some bad, older kid who lived up the street. I was used to getting chased, and overall just sneered at for others’ amusement. All of these inadequacies and faults just screamed in a collective roar; “I was not enough.” Over and over again on repeat I heard this. I hardly ever lost my temper, but when I did it was pure, blinding rage. If only I could get back at them, it was all I thought; it consumed every thought. All I had was my intelligence and a resilient spirit with a little of that fire gave and some athletic ability. That’s where it started. I proved myself aggressively on the playing field in games like soccer, wrestling and tackle football. That inspired me in a year to eat better, run, lift weights and transform myself, but it was a long process. I’ll touch on this again, but I wouldn’t be fully realized until late in high school. This is when I became stronger and slimmer. My teeth straightened, I acquired contact lenses and gained some confidence. I had to battle through all of these jerks to get there, sometimes successful, other times not so suc cess ful.  I spent way too much time as a victim, a role I had to break like a shell. I had to metamorphosize into something, someone else.

Now getting back to the victim. What does he or she look like? Well, if I described what I just did of my early life; that was me. Why do you think I’m doing what I do now? Why it comes so natural. Because I was that kid. I identify so strongly with the pain and anger because I know what it feels like to think that low of yourself. You want to fight back so hard, but when you do you get caught. They see the overreaction, and laugh at the end result. I want this thing to end because I know in my heart of hearts the tormentors will never understand what they do. These scars last forever; they do not go away. Like someone who’s been violated, attacked, mugged, left for dead, etc. These people(abusers) have violated your space, rights as a human, right to share the same space on this planet, and you, the victim, have been deprived. Because you can not let anyone define you, do such things to you. You have to reclaim your right that was taken. You, the victim, have to reassemble the broken victim inside of you, and emerge with stronger parts as the person you were intended to be. As you burn, your Phoenix will rise! Just have faith in yourself (I’m saying this to myself as to you as well) To me all the focus should be on empowering the victim, no mercy should be given to the tormentor. Too long have all the adults been forgiving them, covering for them, standing up for them. They do it in childhood and adulthood. This should be the day all that rhetoric ends. We all need as a group to empower the victim, the victim needs to empower him/herself. We need all society, teachers, administrators, observers on that page.

It’s not for tomorrow. It’s already too late. After all my hours of research I think I’ve seen it all, but it doesn’t end. These aren’t exaggerations. These stories are real. This is not fake news. These people are real. Autistic, blind, deaf kids brutally attacked and humiliated. Headlines that say such atrocities like:

Bullied teen beaten to death: unable to wake from coma.  Beaten because she was Sikh Muslim.  Awshawnty Davis,10

Teen hangs herself after being cyberbullied.  Megan Meier,13

Teen bullied so excruciatingly he was told to “go home and shoot yourself, no one will ever miss you.” So, he did just that. Eric Mohat, 17

After years of incessant bullying, beautiful girl who loved horses succumbed and shot herself at home. Emelie Davis,13

I only had brief bouts of bullying, abuse, but over time they added up. I can’t imagine the magnified sense of having no more options at all, or being tormented so badly that it cost me my life. The anger on the deepest level I can mostly identify. Can you imagine the sadness, heartbreak these mothers and fathers feel? The bullies are free, causing more harm to other innocent victims, and these people’s lives are destroyed. I have so much more to say, and I will; you’ll find out. Right now I just want to shed light, and give some hope to the victims. It doesn’t have to be this way forever. It can end with all our doing; we have the power. Action of one, action of many. If one person reads this I’ve done my part, but I’m not satisfied( nowhere near) I want everybody to read. It starts with the kids. They can expose bullies, blow this thing wide open. Stand up to it, confront it. Say “Hey, what you’re doing is wrong! This is my friend!!” Get in a good group, get some protective friends that would go down swinging for you. And until the adults listen, Fight For Your Life!!; you only have one!

I’ll leave you with this thought. Bullies thrive on conformity. What will make them popular they will enforce like dogmatic wolves, no matter how stupid it is. The certain clothes, body type, music, etc. whatever rules they make up. Well, if everyone lived like them we wouldn’t have remarkable, maybe not-so-outgoing creative individuals who rose to greatness. I’m not talking about the people everyone always think. I’m talking about Stephen Hawking, Bill Gates, Lady Gaga, Kate Winslet, Chris Rock and Michael Phelps who all went onto enormous success and made worthwhile contributions, despite being bullied. They found their power, and it blossomed for the whole world to see. They came from a different place, not one of conformity or predictability.

You don’t have to be the target anymore. I am definitely not today. It’s OK to be who you are: shy, weird, smart, odd daring and beautiful. It is my goal to make you not fearful, scared, withdrawn, weak and ashamed. Stay with me and I will make you tough enough to resist your tormentor, and verbally, mentally and physically to become strong enough to never let them bother you again.

Be well and stay strong, my brothers and sisters. I’m together with you in this fight.

“Me. We.”   -Muhammad Ali