Towards the end of the school year, I was sitting at a booth for a children’s fair. As the children played operation and then picked a prize, I would watch as the child would furiously dig through the box, searching for that special something. As they finally found it, carefully extracting their hand so that their prize wouldn’t be lost, they were suddenly stopped by a voice booming overhead: “No. Not that toy. That toy is for a boy, pick a toy that’s for a girl.” The same situation occurred when a boy picked out a toy that would have been deemed a “girl toy.” I would watch as the child would look up at their parent, puzzled but listening, and drop the toy in the pile while taking one of the several suggestions from their superior. As they settled for their new prize, their old prize became lost in the rubble as the next child searched for their own.
These encounters brought me back to my own childhood where everyday you learn of things you shouldn’t do so that you can “fit in” with the rest of the world. For example, as a male, you should always sit with your legs spread apart, always wear a watch on your left hand, always insert your belt on a certain side, and never wear an earring in your right ear. If you did any of these things, it was an instant label as feminine or as homosexual. It sounds rather ridiculous that such a small gesture could send such a strong signal to the rest of society.
It seemed like the older I got, the more constraints I had to add to my list. When I was in elementary, there were several students who for some unknown reason absolutely hated me. I went to a small private christian school where the education was supposed to be better than the city system. It turns out, the education sucked and christians did not exist there. It was a world filled with deceit and greed, where money was more of a concern than the mental well being of youths experiencing bullying. Even though I addressed the issues to the administration, they were swept under the rug and the bullying continued. Here are some of the things I learned from those 6.5 years: my mother was apparently Barney the Dinosaur, I was a prostitute, a pansy, a gayfer, a faggot, a homo, a slut, pathetic, some days good enough, other days my entire existence was wished away. I learned that if I didn’t stand up and say a prayer I would be called a pansy and then stabbed with a pencil. I however was none of these things and my mother was definitely not Barney.
But it didn’t matter what I thought I was. I was buried under so many labels I didn’t even know who or what I was anymore. So what did I do about it? At some point, I essentially killed myself. I set fire to the labels covering up what was once underneath. Like a phoenix, I thought I would mentally rise from the ashes. I did rise from the ashes, but the fire burned too deep. I burned away everything: all of the labels, and the person that was hidden underneath. I rose from the ashes, standing in the pile of what was once upon a time. I could only move forward from there, so I scooped up the ashes and buried away my past, my childhood.
I became an adult at the age of 13. For the next 6 years, I felt like I was walking on thin ice. I was observant of everything. I felt, and do still feel, like an outsider looking in on the world and the lives of others. I was sure to try and stick to the list of things to do as deemed appropriate by society, but made sure to keep myself separate. I didn’t want to be like everyone else. I didn’t like what I saw and I refused to begin burying myself under the appropriate labels. However, just as animals do what it takes to survive, I was forced to start pasting them on again. I made it through high school and I’ve made it almost through college. But then I started thinking about what I’d done and what society was forcing me to do.
Why was I letting society control what I wore and how I looked? How would I ever define myself as an individual if I kept letting society bury me? I’ve avoided certain clothes, certain people, places, and ideas, all because I worried what society would think of me. Well guess what society? I don’t care what you think anymore. I’ll wear what I want to wear, go where I want to go, and hang out with who I want to hang out with, and think what I want to think. I dare to be different, I dare to be “a novel in a sea of magazines,” I dare to be me.
Society has trapped themselves in an endless cycle of what should and shouldn’t be. There are so many rules, and so many of those who are scared to break them for fear of standing out. But are they scared to break them for fear of standing out, or for the fear that they will be punished by bullying? If anyone so much as dares to be different, to step outside of the box, they’re bullied. Society will try to force them back in, or throw them out altogether. Sadly, sometimes they succeed.
Bullying has become part of the American culture. Many believe it’s a rite of passage through middle school, and even through medical school. They believe it makes people stronger, but they don’t understand the costs. While there is an effort to eliminate bullying by making it punishable by law, this isn’t a means to an end. The problem lies within the deep, set-in beliefs and ideas that have been built for centuries, along with a twisted version of “survival of the fittest.”
Will there come a day when a child can pick a toy of their choosing without being told that they’re wrong? Will there come a day when someone can just be? Maybe, and maybe not. It really depends on how much longer the world will exist.
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