The Bullying I Faced — From Childhood to College

Hey readers,

Like I wrote in my last post, today I’m bringing up something heavy: my past. It’s not easy to talk about, but it’s part of me. I went through so much growing up—from my personal life with my parents and friends to school life, where I experienced years of bullying. So here it is. I’m opening up about my school experiences, because maybe someone out there will relate and know they’re not alone.

I was bullied throughout elementary, middle school, high school—and yes, even in college. And yet, somehow, I still found parts of school that I enjoyed. I’ll start with my early years.

When I was little, I had a lot of fluid in my ears, which made it hard for me to hear clearly. I only heard about half the words people said. My parents spoke to me in Spanish, but I watched cartoons in English, so I was this confused little girl who made up her own language—part Spanish, part English, and part… whatever came out of my mouth. Because of that, I ended up in speech therapy and was placed in a class for students with learning disabilities.

Even though I was ready to move into a regular class by first grade, I wasn’t ready socially. I hated change. I wanted to stay with my friends. But kids thought I was “slow,” so they made fun of me. I don’t remember all the names or the exact words they said, but the hurt stuck. I do remember being in third grade and standing outside with some classmates when this boy just hit us on the head for no reason. And then there was Mrs. M, my teacher. She always picked on me. I was always in trouble. One time, I got so upset at a boy who was bothering me that I told him to “talk to the hand.” Mrs. M didn’t like that. She grabbed me by the arms and slammed me into the wall.

My mom wasn’t having it. The next day, she went up to the school, found Mrs. M, and slammed her against the wall too. After that, I was transferred to another class with a different teacher—Mrs. H. I didn’t want to stay at that school anymore. I didn’t want to be bullied anymore. So the next year, I transferred to a new school.

It didn’t get easier. I had a bucked front tooth, and kids called me names like “retarded bunny.” I was “dating” a boy named Alex, but we broke up before the summer. Even the park kids picked sides. In 5th grade, I met a new girl, and we became friends… but that didn’t last. She started calling me a “white cracker..”

Then came middle school, where the bullying got worse. I had problems with the Black girls. On the bus, the popular kids called me “Chatterbox” and “Sony”—not original, but still painful. One kid, Max, even sat on top of me on the bus. I was picked on just for existing.

High school wasn’t much better. I had this one class in my freshman year where a couple of students called me a “dirty Mexican” and said I was ugly. I don’t remember if it was freshman or sophomore year, but one guy called me a “midget” and accused me of playing with his feelings. Junior year was drama-filled too—especially when I tried out for the Falconettes. I didn’t get in, mostly because of drama with this girl who we will call Jane.

Senior year brought more pain. I was in leadership class, and Keeli —who didn’t like me—locked me in the supply closet. She and some others laughed while I freaked out. On the last day of school, literally in homeroom, someone told me there were rumors going around that I was crazy.

And in college? You’d think the bullying would stop, but no. It was a sorority this time—ΣΣΣ. My so-called “big sister,” Adeline started spreading rumors about me. All the other girls took her side. I eventually left because I couldn’t take it anymore. Later, in true “me” fashion, I wore my little sister sorority shirt and a girl posted about it on MySpace. Yeah… I was that petty. One girl commented saying I should’ve never wore the shirt since I left and then the rest of them started talking trash too.

So yeah, that’s just some of the bullying I’ve gone through in my life.

It wasn’t easy to write all this. It’s a lot. But if you’ve ever felt like you didn’t belong, like people misunderstood you, or like you were constantly being picked on—know that I see you. And I’m still standing. So are you.

Thanks for reading.

Until next time,

Scarlette 💜