1 post tagged “defining mments”

The Champs Singing 'Tequila'

Age Two-

       I wanted to go to my uncle’s wedding. My parents left me with my grandmother on my father’s side. I didn’t know her as well as I knew my other grannie, so I cried and cried. When my mother phoned to check on me and heard me crying, my parents decided to come get me and bring me back to the wedding with them. The wedding was just as much fun as I knew it would be. They played ‘Tequila’ by The Champs and it became my favourite song.

That day, as I danced at that wedding, I thought I could get everything I wanted in life.

Age Five-

Was how old I was the first time my mother slapped me. She hit me right across the face for sassing her. To this day, I remember exactly how that slap felt and the shock of it.

That was the day I learned my world was not the wonderland I’d believed it was. And that I might not always get all I wanted in life.

Age Six -

I was in first grade  and wanted to play with the other girls in my class at recess. A girl named ‘Janie’ seemed to be in charge. Janie said I “was allowed” to play, but there was another little girl who “wasn’t allowed.” Even though I didn’t like the sad expression on that excluded little girl’s face, I said nothing in her defence, because Janie made the rules, I wanted to play and she said I could. I played while that little girl watched sadly, but I didn’t enjoy the game as much as I’d hoped.

That was the day I realised that there were times that I was going to truly hate myself.  Years later, when I looked back at a class photo, I saw that the girl who hadn’t been allowed to play was either Hispanic or black.      

Age Ten-

By fifth grade I was considered popular by my classmates. I was like Janie had been back in kindergarten, only without the meanness, I hope. Along came another girl who was also considered popular, but she was even meaner than Janie had been. She decided there wasn’t enough room in one fifth grade class for two popular girls, so she started a campaign against me. I never told my parents, but my classroom teacher knew and ignored it totally. The bullying was creative and inescapable, involving every classmate, all of whom somehow felt compelled to take sides, and either be my friend or hers, but not both. There were a few holdouts for a while, and always a few whose opinion didn’t count either way, but eventually she was the reigning queen of that fifth grade class. Once possessing that crown, she wielded her power mercilessly, doing everything she could to make my life at school hell. This included commandeering boys to step on my feet at ‘line-up time,’ or dumping my books out of my schoolbag and getting girls to pour orange juice down my back at lunchtime, plus more. After months of daily bullying, I’d finally had more than I could take, and one day, in the girl’s locker room of the school gym, though I’d never been in a fight before, I beat the snot out of Queenie. She ended up crying and telling the gym teacher, who unbeknownst to me, had also been aware of what had been going on. The only thing the gym teacher said about the incident was directed to me, “about time you stood up for yourself.” And then she walked away. Queenie’s ladies-in-waiting were appalled by the teacher and by my actions. They were solicitously sympathetic to her, but none of them ever hassled me again. I felt sick to my stomach after that fight, astonished at the teacher’s words and amazed at my ability to defend myself.

That was the day I recognised that people could be disgusting when they were part of a crowd, and that being ‘popular’ was worthless. And that sometimes, like it or not, I’d have to defend myself, even if it made me feel ill.

Age Twelve -
 
My best friend and I were on the playground again. This time, the person being taunted wasn’t me, but a mentally-retarded girl who was also challenged by the condition known as albinism. Her parents had decided to ‘mainstream’ her. But, considered “too white” and “too stupid,” by many of her schoolmates, the things she was subjected at school made my trials the year before seem tame. That day, a group of sixth grade girls and boys locked hands in a loop around her. They wouldn’t let her out as they circled and taunted her. But whether age or experience had changed me, this time, I didn’t pretend not to see or care. I marched right up to that band of cohorts, my best friend right behind me, and we pulled that poor girl out of there. She was nearly hysterical. We brought her back to her ‘special ed’ class,’ then went straight to our guidance counselor to tell the story. The counselor told us there was nothing she could do, the girl’s parents insisted on her staying in that school.

That day, I felt good about what I had done and about myself,  but learned that grown-ups don’t always have all the answers, don’t always do what’s right, and that sometimes, as much as you wish that you weren’t, you are powerless to make any changes.

In only five days, I learned so much that defined much of me going forward:

1)  Some days you achieve all you want, and it truly seems that the world revolves around you. Those are the days you have to seize when you get them, and dance like mad to “Tequila.”

2)  However, the world really doesn’t revolve around you, and your parents can never be the gods we imagined or wished they were. 

3)  Popularity is worth less than a pile of dog droppings if, in order to achieve it, you have to give up your integrity.

4) Popularity can also change in a heartbeat. It’s far better to stand alone and, if necessary, stand for yourself.

5)  Just because people are older, or our parents, or our teachers, or our counselors, or our priests, or anyone in authority, we shouldn’t automatically assume they’re smarter than we are, or can handle things better than we can. 

6)  Be for what’s right and fair always, even if the rest of the world isn’t. It might not give you the power to change anything, but you’ll be able to look yourself in the mirror and sleep a lot better at night. 

So...what are your defining moments? Ever think about them?