Monday, October 26, 2015

Dear Tonya P....

I started this post almost 2 years ago.  As I help plan my 20 year high school reunion with my, then unlikely, friends I am reminded of the days of yore.  Let's take a trip back, shall we?

I sat outside of our alma mater, waiting for my amazing son to leave Chinese club.  While sitting in the car, I took a selfie.

Selfies get a bad rap as self indulgent, attention seeking, vain, moments caught in dirty bathroom mirrors, laying on a bed, or (as in my case) the car.  No doubt there are those.  And who cares?  Judging a person by the selfies they take only defines YOU.  Not the subject.  I see, regularly, via social networking, people picking others apart over a photograph.  Sometimes, it makes me ashamed of what we have become.

The selfie/former high school combo inspires a Facebook post wherein I wax poetic memories of the emotional terrorism that I suffered from 7th-10th grade.  18 years have passed since I bid that school farewell and so much has happened.  13 year old me would never have posed for a selfie.  You'd be hard pressed to find more than a handful of pictures of me from those years.  My yearbook pics are about all anyone has.

That leads my train of thought to a hot August day in 1991 when I took my first step into our Junior High.

The few years before were some of the worst in my life.  (If you don't know by now, here are the Cliff's notes: Taken off the street, beaten, raped, prevented from attending school, being freed, helping sentence my abuser to prison, dealing with the aftermath)  My 'rents bought a convenience store and moved away from my "safe zone" and all of my childhood friends that I loved so dearly.  Everything I ever knew was now a blurred view from the back of their car.  This move was supposed to be a fresh start.  No one at this new school would know what happened to me.  I could start over and not have it follow me.

I was cursed gifted with a very thorough memory.  Right now, first period class is escaping (pretty sure it was band).  And then second period is where I met them.  Our schools equivalent of Heathers.  They were pretty, rich, all the boys looked at them, all the girls wanted to be them.  Tonya appeared to be their leader.  She was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen.  Perfect hair.  Perfect eyes.  Perfect clothes.  Perfect body.  Surrounded by friends.  I had insane frizzy hair, freckles, big, plastic glasses, and was the epitome of 90's notthecoolkind nerd.  And it was like some kind of alarm went off in them.  They turned to me and burst out laughing.  I wanted to curl up and die, right there.  I was a quiet, new girl, surely I would just stand there and take it.  And I did.  Much to my horror, they were in my next period Science class.  Since Tonya and I shared a starting last name letter, we were unfortunately close, initially.  She made good use of our close proximity.  We went on to share 1 more class.  I shared classes with her cronies all day.

She was so wretched and hateful to me and to the friends I was finally able to make.  It was like her only goal in life was to be as ugly inside as she was beautiful outside.  The things she said to me were mortifying.  I'd go home and cry and my 'ma would always tell me not to let them see me cry, they'd know they won.  I'd sit there, stone faced, pretending that I didn't hear them.  I broke my finger playing basketball in gym and when I came to school the next day with a splint, Tonya was the first to notice.  She made crude, regular, jokes about how it happened.  Most were sexually explicit.  I'd never encountered that behavior before.  My previous school was full of poor, black kids that never made fun of others.  I supposed at the time that only the poor had manners.  For the most part, that still holds true.

Once, we were sent to the hall to make up a science test and she asked me for all of my answers.  She failed that test.  I only know that because I got an A+ and I gave her every wrong answer on the sheet.  It was the only weapon I had.  She threw things at me in class - paper wads, fingernail clippings, gum wrappers.  Her friends took her lead.  In other classes, they would mimic her like sheep.  On the bus, on field trips, in the halls.  When I got my first boyfriend, they made fun of him for liking me.  They made fun of my friends for being awkward, fat, nerdy, whatever was "different" about us was exploited.  And it went on for 3 years.  There was no escape or recourse.

So, 18-21 years later, I sit here listening to the happy sounds of my kids and pray that I have filled their cups enough that when "Tonya" sets her sights on them, they will not be phased.  I pray that they will not overdose like I did.  I pray that they will not cut themselves like I did.  I pray they won't absorb the horrible words of small people, like I did.  I hope they will not resort to the rebellion tactics that I employed in defense.  I pray that they will stand up, like I eventually did.  So today, I write to the most popular, most pretty girl in the school -

Dear Tonya,
You tormented me for no reason.  You made me wish that I would evaporate.  You made me wish that I was dead.  The hateful things you said to me resonated for years.  I wonder what was so damaged inside of you that made you enjoy that type of amusement. I hear that you have a wonderful career out of state and far from here.  I'm glad that you have been so blessed.  One day, should you ever have children, I hope that you protect them from the type of person you were - both from replication and victimization.

And, I forgive you.

Very Truly Yours,
That Ugly Girl In Mr. Vaughn's 3rd Period Science Class