When I was home over Thanksgiving Break, I stumbled across an old journal that I kept when I was in sixth grade. Looking through it, I found the typical anguish that anyone at the age of 11 has: my parents making me go to bed too early, the English teacher who seemed to single me out for humiliation and annoyance at my little brother for pulling my hair.
But there were entries in there that weren't about my parents making me eat spinach for dinner. I wrote about girls who would pretend to be my friend one day, then write mean things in a notebook about me another and "accidentally" let me overhear them talking about it. I wrote about mean notes shoved in my locker and hearing vicious rumors spread about me. I wrote about, what I'm finding is more and more common now, being bullied.
I started this blog because I am fascinated by the way people define their hometowns and the associations they have with it. I didn't know what to expect when people began telling me their stories. What I didn't expect was to find out that school bullying had such an effect on so many people.
Bullying was almost regarded as a "right of passage" when I was in elementary school: something that you just had to deal with it, because it "will always get better." And while that may be true in the long run, when you're 11 years old, it's not easy to believe.
Bullying may not leave permanent scars, but it does, while indirectly, have an impact on the way we run our lives. For one of my friends, it was constantly questioning her appearance, even years after girls stopped calling her ugly in the hallways. For others, it's the constant doubt that they are never good enough.
For me, it's been the fear of letting people get too close to me.
While this may paint a bleak picture for the millions of kids that are bullied each year, it also gives me reason to hope.
The people that I've interviewed that have been bullied are compassionate and giving. They are nice to other people. They remember what happened to them and they try their hardest to not let it get repeated.
When I started this blog, I kept getting asked what my story was. What did I like about my hometown? What did I despise? I'm still having trouble answering that question, but I'll try to answer it in a way now.
Description: Mine Hill, a small town where everyone knows your business whether you want them to or not.
Negative: The elementary school I attended where bullying was treated with a slap on the wrist, and possibly a lunchtime detention.
Positive: The amazing people I have been able to connect with later in my life over shared, miserable experiences.
Bottom line: It's not a place I'd like to return to, but it's not a place I despise entirely.
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