I spent the entirety of fifth grade with no one to talk to
nobody sat with me in class,
nobody invited me after school,
nobody said my name
and I thought that was okay.
I have taken six bullying seminars throughout my academic career
they’ve told me to be more outgoing,
they’ve told me that I am to be accepted,
they’ve told me that smile-wrapped apologies are a fair consequence
but not one has told me bullying should be stopped.
I have started to look at college essays
they ask me about a defining moment in my life
they ask me of struggle
they ask me what I have overcome
and I am afraid to tell them
it was being alone.
We have become desensitized to ostracism
to the point where friends pushing each other around
cry out “she’s bullying me” and we are all in on the joke
to the point where I have to
cry out in order to be heard
and even then, my words are something to be ashamed of.
My talk of being invisible is to other people the elephant in the room
something that taints the falsely accepting atmosphere with discomfort
something that incriminates my peers momentarily before they forget me again
something that earns me a nod of support from a teacher and nothing more
and at the end of the day I have eaten my empty words and they sit hollow in my stomach.
According to the bullying seminars at my school
bullying is a grainy picture of a smiling child lost to the suicide epidemic
bullying is blossoming bruises on tear-spattered faces of feuding boys and venomous words of vicious girls
bullying is something every school has a no-tolerance policy of,
useless when bullying is not something you can catch like a plagiarized paper or a box of cigarettes
useless when “just smile” is not the universal remedy
useless when its victims are not crying in bathroom stalls as those seminars have portrayed me
For no one seems to understand that we, as victims, are also survivors
some of us with battle scars along our arms to show for it
some of us who have banded together instead of fighting on our own
some of us, like me, to whom words are our weapons
and I’d rather declare misanthropy that admit to being alone.
I have become desensitized to ostracism
to the point where loneliness is not synonymous to me with being alone
to the point where I am no longer desperate for the approval of my peers
to the point where people think it strange that I almost seem to prefer solitude
yet I am prohibited to call this finding strength in my weakness
because I will be called pathetic, or privileged, or cold.
I have long since been taught that the solution to bullying is acceptance
acceptance of the existence of mean-spirited actions and words
acceptance of other people’s differences
acceptance as a response, that kindness is the best revenge
because I am acceptable at best.
But I do not believe that I should be something to be considered acceptable
amongst my peers
I do not think mere tolerance of others is acceptable
as decency or friendship
I refuse to accept
that what I have gone through is acceptable
when what got me through depression and anxiety
was the knowledge that surviving a year without speaking
meant I could survive anything.
If it means I will always have to forge my own way
I will never be silenced again.