Embarrassment. Shame. Disgust. These ugly words don’t begin to describe the horror of what it felt like to be beat up as a 14 year old. I can still remember my classmates gathered around cheering for the ones delivering the powerful blows. As the beatings continued, I looked for a place deep within myself where I could pretend that the beatings weren’t happening to me.
I didn’t know what I had done to be hated so much. As an adult, I still don’t know. I didn’t understand why tormenting me was such a fun event for everyone else. The beating seemed to last forever and finally I was left laying on the ground. Beaten and bruised, I stood up to make my way back to the school building. I knew this day would forever change my life.
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My peers accomplished something that day. They stripped me of my self-worth and made me hate myself as much as they hated me. I believed I deserved it. I was too scared to tell my family or any of the teachers. It happened a lot that year.
In the years that followed, I went through a lot of pain because I disliked myself so much. So much hurt could have been avoided if I would have dared speak out. I was convinced that no one would hear me if I did. Now, as an adult, I can see that my thinking was wrong. I did not deserve to be beaten-up. I had done nothing wrong and if I had gone to someone in authority they would have helped me. I was not as along as I felt.
School beatings have been in the news a lot the past few days. How can students and adults stand aside and watch as children are tortured? What can we do to stop this abuse? What if the student was one of your own friends? What if it was you?
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