Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Whoever said that had never been hit with a rock and called a lesbo. Ok. The two things didn't occur simultaneously, but I've experienced both, and let me tell you, the rock broke no bones, but the hateful words left a bruise that couldn't be cured.
I didn't even know what a lesbo was! But I knew, by the way the girl giggled after she said it, that she didn't mean it to be nice. I had short hair and no boys liked me, so to other kids, I was a lesbo. Lesbo is a slang term for lesbian. You know plenty of them. Like Miss Kris! Although, she's not a very good one, but she does put up quite the effort. ;)
My point. Words hurt.
When I was a little girl, around the age of 7, I had three best friends. We'll call them Julie, Nancy, and Crissy. We were all friends, and got along, to my knowledge at the time, quite nicely. There came a day when Crissy was moving to a different school. It was her last day at Ferris Elementary, and I was really sad about it. On that day in P.E., I walked in on a conversation between my other two friends, Julie and Nancy. One of them mentioned how happy she was that Crissy was moving. She couldn't wait for her to be gone. The other girl agreed, speaking of Crissy in an awful way. This blew me away. I had thought that we were all friends. I had no idea they would say these things. They looked to me, and Nancy asked, "What about you? What do you think?"
This was my chance to be the better person, to stand up for this friend of mine who I was honestly sad to see go. Both pairs of eyes were on me, waiting for my reply. This was my moment to be the girl my parents had taught me to be.
"I can't wait for her to go," I answered. And my heart sunk. That, was the first time I remember doing something wrong when I KNEW what was right. Why had I said it? To fit in, I suppose. These were my only two friends I would have left at school after Crissy was gone, and I didn't want to lose them too. I lowered myself to lying and and gossip so that my OWN selfish needs would be met.
Minutes later, our teacher came to pick us up from the gym. Not thinking a thing of it, I noticed Nancy, walking over to our teacher and whispering something in her ear. When all students were in line and all was quiet, my teacher asked, "Curri, did you say that you were glad Crissy was moving?" I was stunned. My two friends looked at me with grins on their lips, but the face I can't ever erase from my memory was that of Crissy's. She stood right in front of me in the line, and she slowly turned around, her eyes brimming with tears. All I could manage, as my mouth stood agape at my feeling of betrayal (my own of Crissy and my friend's of me) was a single nod. The teacher reprimanded me in some way, and we went to class. Crissy left that day, and I never saw her again.
There are some stories of my life that I look forward to telling you. Stories where I "save the day" and do the right thing. This is not one of those stories. Of this story, I am not the heroine.
I cannot place blame on the other two girls, either. What they did was no worse than what I did. They betrayed a friend. Only, they at least had the courage to betray me to my face.
I am so sorry for what I said that day, for not having courage enough to do what was right. I have even since then messed up and allowed my quick and cruel tongue to get the best of me.
Guess what. It never ends either. Becoming an adult doesn't rid one of hateful thoughts and fill one with courage to do what's right. Quite the contrary, in fact. I sometimes believe that when becoming an adult, not only do we lose hair and taste buds and our fast metabolism. We lose our tact and courtesy. We lose the knowledge of what it's like to have our feelings hurt.
I try every day to be better than the girl I was on that day outside the elementary gym. Most days, I succeed. Others, not so much. As an adult, I have been verbally attacked 100 times more than I was as a child. Being called a lesbo because of a chili bowl haircut is nothing in comparison to being verbally ripped apart for something you believe in, or for trying to help someone, or for being yourself.
My lesson to you, my sweet Poppyseed.
Think before you speak.
Never give in to the pressure of your friends when you KNOW what's right.
Forgive people for when they may hurt your feelings. I know it's tough, but we are all only human.
Apologize when you know you've hurt someone else.
Remember, that for most, courage doesn't come naturally. That's why its such a great trait. One must willingly take on pain and hurt to have courage.
And last, no one puts it better than Thumper; if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.
Broken bones may take weeks to heal, but the broken bonds of friendship and family suffered from hateful words, for that, there is no cast to mend.
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