Here's the story of what happened my Jr. year.
This is a story that I can never truly tell fully because it is so incredibly
unbelievable that a group of people would try to break someone down because
she was different.
To say that "Stick and Stones will break your bones but
words will never hurt you"....Do you know how it is to be called a whore?
Do you know how it is to be ridiculed by the mass because of being female?
Do you know how it feels to be called a bitch, whore, slut, cunt, loose,
etc.? If you have ever felt that word hurt you-I am sorry. I am so
sorry. I have been called every name in the book, sexually harassed,
bullied, hit, pushed into the middle of an intersection, cyber web slandered,
slandered on MySpace, publicly outcast, alienated, personal objects vandalized
and sexually discriminated against. In fact, I learned how to stand
alone when i was being horribly abused by people in my teenage world.
I have had grown up "professional" woman that were suppose to teach me
but spent their time mocking me in the staff lounge and laughing in my
face.
This was my life for my past three years in high school.
You may be wondering what I did to deserve such hurtful treatment? I would
like you to rethink that question and ask yourself "why did I have to become
a victim". I have always questioned that. I have finally discovered
that the reason lies in the fact that I am different. I was never
too interested in the football games, Jr. Nachos, manicures on school nights
with the girls, boy hunting, and all the other girls rite of passages.
I was more interested in the books that had some of the answers. I was
usually in some club meeting trying my best to give something back to the
world. I was not like that boy over there. Or that girl over there. That
sounds odd. But its true I didn't belong. I didn't belong at the jocks
table even though I ran successfully. Or the "popular" crowd, not even
in the so called, "social outcast" crowd. I was just that girl who has
dorky glasses and does way too much for her own good not so much the crowd.
I was content.
I started noticing a sting of loneliness engulf my body.
I wanted to belong. Don't we all? We all might say, "hey I want to be different".
But truly we are all so hypocritical. Its not a bad thing. Its just the
reality. Look at what your wearing. Probably similar attire from the people
in your posse. Its funny what people do to fit in though.
I have always some how been the lucky few that was the
scapegoat. It all started my freshman year when I was promoted to varsity
cross country training. The older girls were angry about this. They
had been working for four years to be in a place that I got in a matter
of weeks. At first it was just simple "dirty looks of hate". Then it became
isolation. The girls wouldn't talk to me. They hated me. I would
hear them talking to the to other girls on the team and they made it very
clear that new girls were not to be treated with respect as she could take
your spot. That counted me out of their group. It wasn't so much
that I wanted to be included as it was that they wouldn't let me enjoy
my time running. I had been running all of my life. It was
my freedom. They soon were able to take it away so fast.
I remember running in the streets with the girls.
The girls were all tightly packed as they were crossing an intersection.
Then one of the girls stopped in her tracts and made a barrier on which
I fell over flat on my knees. I remember being a little shocked.
I looked up and saw the girls smiles curling and their howls of laughter
with the occasional, "oops I am sorry". I saw the blood trickle down
my legs. I held my tears in and smiled. Wiped the gravel off my legs
and sprinted to catch up. That night i went home and buried my face into
the pillow. I was so angry. I had been tripped on purpose, isolated, and
hated because I was different.
Soon enough the coaches joined in the girls group. One
girl coach would laugh at me when I said hi to her. I would say, "good
morning" and she would roll her eyes at me and laugh. She was a new coach
and so desperately wanted to be part of the girls group. So i was her free
ticket in. My other coach would not talk to me when it came to training.
He wanted to keep his "fast" girls happy. He once put his fist in
my face in a punching motion to show that he didn't like me. I was
hurt. What had I done? Every night after running and trying so badly
and trying to prove that I was fast I would collapsed onto the floor
and I just wouldn't stop crying. I would fall asleep crying with
my socks still on from running...my heart still broken.
When I quit running, I felt liberated from these people.
I got my freedom back.
But my freedom was again taken away. My jr. year
was a year that I learned that people are not always good. I had
been very naive before, thinking that there was some good in everyone.
After I broke up with this one boy, his ego was bruised - he had an interest
in another girl so i was like "see ya". Then, I came home that
day to see bulletins on MySpace about me in a sexual matter. It always
quoted his name. He had given intimate details about me. Physical
descriptions. I don't know what got into me but I was tired of this. I
didn't want to be the one walked all over on, so I talked back.
I talked back. I wrote some things that I felt. I probably
hurt their feelings too. But I spoke words to defend myself. The
group of haters kept on growing. Growing and growing. Soon my message box
was filled with, "bitch- shut up" as the headline. I was standing
alone. My ex boyfriend called me up that day and was so mad. He cussed
at me saying in despair, "why are you so jealous"! I kept on finding
out that he was telling people personal things about me when we were dating.
He was always "studying" with other girls and during those times of enlightenment
he would tell the other girls," your way prettier than my girl friend,
gosh she wears so much makeup." I was so hurt. I could feel it. Like
as if i was punched in my chest and had no air to breath. Then his other
guy friends got involved and began to sexually harass me. The boys hurt
me through their sexual slurs and by sexual harassment every single day.
Some wrote blogs called, "robetta". Peers would
call these people their heroes. Others would just say, " you don't
know the other side of her".
I have had staff try to help, I think so that they could
sleep at night. One staff brought us all in and tried to talk it
out. Big mistake. I just put up my white flag as the other students displayed
very clearly that they disliked me. I just gave up. Me against the people
who wanted me dead. I was scared. One girl said, in front
of the staff member, " I just hate you. You do this to everyone. You
think your so good. I am disgusted."
I looked at her and said, as calmly as possible and as
tears dripped down my face, "How can I change for you?"
She had no answer. How could a girl that hated me
so much have no answer on how I should change so she could live in peace
with me. Ironic. She became mute. I wiped my tears as
a new set of tears came washing my makeup on my face. This was the
girl that would emulate the way I dressed and the things I was involved
in. I just don't understand. I hope that those who ever judged
me will never have this happen to their daughters...their little princesses.
Could they imagine their baby coming home with scars that the human eye
can't see. To hear their baby say, "Mom, they won't stop calling me a whore".
I hope that never happens. It just isn't fair.
I burst into tears. My body was shaking. I soon
believed that I was shit. I couldn't wipe off that remark from my memory.
Other kids got involved. This one boy called me
a "whore" everyday of my jr. year. Others would chant it as I walked
by. MySpace bulletins and comments were common posts about me.
The most current is from one girl who stalked me. The police had to get
involved in order to stop her. My posters were burnt down...I was burnt
down. I developed eating disorders, anxiety, and deep depression.
I would miss class because someone had called me a "whore" and shove me
with his books down the hall. My grades went from a first semester 4.0
to a second hell semester 3.3. I have recovered since then.
Mothers in the community would call my mom saying, “I
am sorry, my son/daughter cannot be friends with yours anymore because
I have HEARD about her. She shouldn't be driving such an expensive
car, and she shouldn't be in pageants”. My new car that I had earned
was vandalized on mothers day. I was followed in the streets and
called a whore. Parents and teachers called local news papers saying,
“ we are tired of reading about Rosetta. Please, could we not have
her in the newspaper anymore”. I was interning at the newspaper
when I found out and then resigned. There was no integrity in working there
anymore.
My mom would be cussed out by the same boys that harassed
me. At one point a staff member told her that she" really showed her character”
when she found out about what was going on. I cried every night.
I could go on forever talking about all of this. But the fact is
that I have triumphed over it all. I have discovered that life is not about
fitting in. It's about finding who u are. Its about noticing
that you are worth more than being a follower and that I am capable of
anything. I know i can.
Here is my chance to share with you. There
are probably hands full of young people like me. We may not look emo with
black eyeliner and rock band tees. We may look like the student that
seems to have it all together. We may be the student that has that
fake smile and good grades. Take a second and make time to ask someone,
"how was your day" and look in their eyes to see if theirs cries are being
suppressed, because sometimes our deepest cries are the best hidden.
By: Rosetta Ragusa
Crescenta Valley High School - California
SRaru@aol.com
Post Script
I too was so affected from the pain of being bullied,
literally, everyday for a year. I too so depressed at times that
all I could think about was hurting myself. But I was too chicken
to kill myself. Instead I would punch my thighs, pull my hair out,
starve myself, and use easy objects like forks to stab myself. I
was in a very bad place. My parents knew what I was doing to myself,
so they put a stop to it. The reason I use to hurt myself was because I
had this idea....this idea that since everyone at school hated me and hurt
me I had to finish the deal. I had to hurt myself too. It made
it even. I would call myself the names that they called me.
I was so sad.
I am still pretty upset about what happened. But now that
I am healthy, I know that God has me here for a reason. There is a reason
that I am still here. I am not quite sure what it is. But I know that it
has to do with helping kids like me. Helping kids out of the grip of bullying.
Today, I see the kids that bullied me and tormented me.
I see them smile at me. It still kills me. I am so confused why my
school never helped me stop the ever growing group of bullies. I
go to Crescenta Valley High School in California.
The administration did not do anything to help me. They
often made me feel like I was at fault for what I was going through. The
kids that were bullying me are mostly from the school running team and
track and field team. The administration principal is married to the same
coach that let my first bout of bullying continue to happen. My principal
use to blame the bullying on me. One time she told me that if she
suspended the other kids she would have to suspend me too. The school
has rules and guidelines against all types of harassment. The principal
never followed them. Of course, the reason lies in the fact that
if she followed those rules her husband's teams would be in jeopardy. It's
just not right. So I feel like there is a conflict of interest.
I will be graduating soon and I want some closure from
all of this. I want justice. My mom and I have been looking
for lawyers but haven't found any willing to help unless they can get a
lot of money up front.
Jared's story has inspired me. I will be strong.
From Rosetta's mom...
My daughter is 17 years old and for the past year
she has been going through a very severe and cruel battle of bullying,
harassment, and stalking from peers at school. The school has not done
anything to help her. I just bought "bullycide in America".
I am so sad for my daughter. Linda
Depression
