Odd Girl Speaks Out Read online

  I Wanted To Fit In So Badly

  Life as the Odd Girl Out

  The letters in this section were the hardest for me to read. Their authors sounded like solitary, embattled soldiers in a terrible kind of war: one that never ended, pitted whole armies against them, and gave them no ammunition with which to fight back.

  These writers bear the sad distinction of living for years in social exile. Often lacking the security of close, trusting friendships, they had no places to sleep over on the weekends, dates to meet people at the mall, guys to dance with at parties, or parties to go to at all. They were picked last for teams and had no one to talk with at lunch, in the halls, or at their lockers.

  When I put myself in their shoes and try to imagine a life like that, I can hardly breathe. I realize how much I took the privileges of inclusion for granted. And I wonder if, years ago, I made an odd girl out feel more hopeless, more afraid, more alone.

  Yet these stories call as much attention to the girls' extraordinary resilience as they do to the darkness of the human spirit. While so many girls grow up taking shelter in their friends, the storm of peer cruelty forces some girls to seek refuge in themselves. Face-to-face with hate, they somehow manage to become extraordinary young women: streetwise, cautious, kind, empathetic, and smart. I am awed by their courageous self-respect in the face of seemingly endless sorrow. Here are some of their stories.

  I Wanted to Fit In So Badly

  All of my life, I have never really, truly "fit in." I was never really part of a group. My family never really had the money to buy me all of the clothing that was "in style." However, I still managed and I loved my school. At the end of sixth grade it closed, forcing me to go to another school, to make another desperate attempt to fit in.

  I was the only new girl to come to seventh grade at school. There were about eleven or twelve of us seventh grade girls including me, and they were in two cliques. There were three really popular girls, and the semi-popular girls were all the rest. Our class was a mixture of both eighth graders and seventh graders, which made it even tougher because all the girls in eighth grade saw me as a loser, too.

  Brittany, who was very popular and pretty, drew a picture when a substitute was in. It was a picture of the substitute naked, and she was quick to show the teacher and say that I drew it. I always got into trouble for pitiful little things such as these. I was an overweight girl, very shy and timid.

  Things never got really bad until eighth grade. I suffered all of the time. All of the other girls had numerous boyfriends. They talked about all the sexual things that they had done with them. I had never been with a boy, had a boyfriend, or even considered having one. I was never invited to the birthday parties or the little girl get-togethers they would have every other day.

  I was teased about everything: my clothes, my hair, my weight, my long face, the fact that I had no boobs. Often I would just go home and cry. It seemed like the only way to ease the pain. I considered suicide but never actually went through with it.

  It was between these tough times that my mother and I had gotten very close. We became like the best of friends. While I was dealing with all of the torment and taunting, I was having problems with my teacher. So I went to school and came home every day crying about how so-and-so had said this, and how I thought this so-and-so was my best friend, how could they betray me like that?

  All of this teasing that I had already gone through was nothing compared to what was to come. I remember being at school in the computer lab one day, and this guy Nick asked me if I had said something about my cousin and how she had fucked her boyfriend or something. I responded no.

  Later on that week, the girls from my class wanted me to go to a dance. I found this odd, considering they never wanted me to do anything with them or even be near them. However, I said "okay." I wanted to fit in so badly. I didn't care.

  Later on that night, I went into my closet and dug out my size thirteen formfitting jeans. I put them on and watched as my flab tumbled over the top of them. I put on my playgirl sweater, went into the bathroom, and put on some heavy makeup. I looked like a fat slut, but I didn't see it.

  When I walked out of the bathroom, my mother told me to take off those jeans and go put on my wind-breakers. She could see that it wasn't me. I never did like the tight formfitting clothes. However, I got pissed off at her and refused to talk to her, I was so bent on going to this dance and looking good.

  It even got to the point where she told me that she would not allow me to leave the house until I at least changed my pants. When we began to leave and go to the dance, she dropped me off in front of the hall. I got out, still refusing to talk to her, and she said, "Call me if you want to leave earlier, I love you." Still I did not answer her. I quickly went inside and found all of the girls whom I had considered to be my friends standing there.

  They all embraced me saying, "Hey there, I'm so happy that you could come." Moments afterward, a girl named Marie and my cousin confronted me.

  Marie began to swear and curse at me saying things like, "You fucking fat bitch! Starting shit 'bout ma girl Randi here!" She went on forever, and not one person, not one, helped me. I stood there on the verge of tears, not saying anything, feeling betrayed and angered. Marie threatened me a few times and then walked away saying she was going to get her friends to kick my ass.

  At that moment, I ran, scared shitless of what they might do to me, knowing that no one was ever going to help me. I ran out of the dance hall crying, I ran a long dark mile. I got to the nearest country-style donut shop where I knew some people. I went to a pay phone, called my mom, and broke down into tears. My mom quickly came and got me. I embraced her, shaking, terrified, and crying so hard that I was barely even able to get the words out of my mouth. She hugged me and we sat there in that parking lot for an hour.

  We came home, and my mom called my cousin's mother. She instantly began to side with Randi, saying that I had always been backward and blah blah blah. Randi had done nothing, all that her mom could see was her sweet little angel who she let do whatever the hell she wanted to.

  The next day I went to school, and as I walked in, I was told by one of the popular girls to "leave, like seriously, just die." I thought she was joking, as she was known as the drama queen, so I laughed. But then when everyone was staring at me I realized, Oh my god, she's serious. I ran inside and cried again.

  I made myself sick in the bathroom so that I could come home. Once I told my mom, she kept me home from school for a week. When I went back I got the same looks and curses from the same people. I was an outcast, and everyone around our little town knew my name, for a bad reason. A majority wanted to kick my ass.

  I began to feel really insecure about myself. I went on a diet thinking, maybe if I'm thin they will like me. I began losing weight, first twenty pounds, then thirty pounds. By graduation, I had gone down from a size thirteen to a nine. I was very proud of myself. I had gone from 178 pounds and 5' 5" to 148 pounds.

  The others around me continued to be unimpressed. Since the rumors, I hadn't talked to anyone. I would not leave my house or talk on the phone. I was scared. After school was over, I was so happy. I lost more weight in the summer and I grew, too. By the end of the summer, I was around 5' 7" and 121 pounds. When I went back to my dietitian, she said that this was unhealthy, and that I needed to stop dieting because I was very underweight. She gave me exercises to do so that I might be able to build some muscle.

  Now I sit at a happy 142 pounds. My friends tell me I look great, and I do feel it. I'm so proud of myself. I have true friends now that I just couldn't bear to live without. They keep me going. They are a big part of me and who I am. My marks are doing fine. I still don't have a boyfriend, but I really don't have the desire to have one anymore. Since I go to high school in another town, I stay with my new friends as much as possible.

  I am still scared of my hometown and the people in it. But I have left them behind because they don't matter anymore. I'm me
. I'm not tiny, I'm not the most beautiful person in the world, but I'm me and that's all that I can be. And even though the past will continue to haunt me and will scar me for life, I know in my heart my friends will always be there to help me through it. I can't believe it. Oh my god, I have friends.

  —AGE 18

  I Am Me

  I was one of those little kids that would just make you melt. I was an Asian mother's dream: beautiful, smart, perfect grades, articulate, respectful, and happy. I played more with guys than girls because my neighborhood was packed with boys and I got tired of making daisy links and Barbies. Girls were boring in my opinion.

  I loved school. I never had trouble with it because I was liked and I was the smartest one in the class. I never got anything lower than an A-, and I hated that minus sign.

  In third grade, I moved to a new elementary school. Naturally, I hung out with the Asian girls. I made friends quickly. But one girl named Karen apparently didn't like me hanging out with her friends. She gave me dirty looks and eventually started spreading rumors about me. I never got to know what they were.

  The girls whispered in secret, they stared at me with slitty eyes that made your skin crawl, and they excluded me from everything. I was always the last one picked.

  Soon, all the Asian girls started hating me. I was hurt because I usually got the most attention. I had never been so put down in my life, and things only got worse. The non-Asian girls hated me, too. The guys, of course, joined in the whole teasing thing. By the end of the school year, I was totally alone and hurt. In fourth grade, nothing got better.

  I started to hate school and told my mother. My mom got angry and said that I was just being a bad girl. She said that people can't possibly hate you unless you did something heinously wrong. She wouldn't listen, so I gave up talking about school. I tried everything to be nice to Karen and her friends. I even nominated Karen for class president and all their jaws dropped. She was nice to me for some time, but then she got angry when I got a better grade on something. I was alone again. I eventually started hating her.

  Her mother came to me and told me to stop hurting Karen. In what way? I asked. You ask her what she's doing to me. Her mom looked like she was going to slap me. I wondered what loads of lies Karen had told her mother. I couldn't beat her up because the wimp always kept many friends around. Besides, I'd be a bad girl if I hit someone; it was a lesson taught to me since I could remember.

  By the end of fourth grade, I had grown a shell to hide all my emotions and thoughts. If I had backed down and been a follower type of girl, perhaps she would've stopped. But no, I always had something to say back. That really drove her insane. I would never back down because I had pride.

  I was also practically the only Korean girl there. They were all Chinese, Malaysian, Taiwanese, or some other Asian type. I became racist, too, thinking that only Koreans were worthy Asians and the others were smelly trash that deserved to die. In my eyes, such hate could not come from normal people. I still remember them giggling, passing notes, glaring, and fighting over who had to have me on their team.

  I was just plain old Anna. The only thing they respected was my knowledge. On our end-of-the-year project, they wrote: creative, smart, nice, friendly, good at spelling, and stuff like that. If they knew this, why were they so mean to me? I didn't understand it, and it drove me insane.

  In fifth grade, I was a mental wreck. I cried every day. The only other Korean kid was a girl who stopped being my friend and made me look bad in front of my mom. My mom didn't believe a child could be so "stressed" and only told me to shut up.

  You know how kids travel in groups? Well, when one got kicked out, she'd come to me. We would be the nicest friends until she stabbed me in the back when she got back to her group. She'd act like she never knew me.

  I decided to kill myself and stared at the concrete wall. I was crying, afraid, but right before I was going to ram my head into it, a couple of boys came and started to tease me. I cried and realized I was afraid to die. So I couldn't end my misery either way. My teacher, Mr. Cusack, told me I had "emotional" problems and was a social "disaster." He never took my side. He made me teach other stupid kids who couldn't figure out their fractions.

  Tom, Karen's brother, was in my class that year. One day we had a bitter fight, and he made Tom apologize. Mr. Cusack dragged Tom and me to the front of the room. Tom got to sit down, but I was up in the front of the classroom while Mr. Cusack talked about me and loners. He asked the class to be nice and pity me. He said it'd be hard but to try their best. They nodded and all looked at me. They snickered and said, "We have to be nice to you now, don't we?"

  I learned how to be angry, bitter, and talk back. Even though I looked so strong inside, I trembled. Inside, I wanted to die, but I'd never show them that. I learned how to become a bitch. I totally changed into a person with split personalities. One was this sweet, nice, smart, talkative, and happy child. Another was a depressed, bitchy, sad, suicidal, mute, and stunned girl.

  In sixth grade, I thought everything would be better, because two other schools were coming along with mine to middle school. But nothing got better. Padma, an ugly, stupid, loner girl kept hanging around my group. I was friends with the seventh graders (the "sevvys," as we called them). Everyone talked about how I was best friends with Padma. I wasn't her friend! I hated her! She not only was smelly, ugly, and mean, but she was selfish, gross, spiteful, and an all-around rotten person.

  I joined drama club and got the lead role as the queen. I loved acting and I was the star. I met my best friends Jennifer and Callie there. Drama was my special thing that kept me happy. Jennifer and Callie told me I was the nicest girl. They said that they didn't understand how anyone could be so mean to me.

  In the seventh grade, people knew about my "reputation" and they were meaner than hell. I expected an insult every period.

  In the locker room, a girl I didn't even know asked me, "Are you Anna?" I said yes. "You're a bitch!" she said, and giggled and walked off.

  I saw my counselor every Wednesday. I told her everything. She just nodded and listened, and I just rattled on. What frustrated me most was that she didn't do anything. She just gave me "uh-huhs," said "I see..." and "I'm sorry, dear." I became frustrated and stopped going altogether.

  I finally got so fed up that I wrote Karen a note saying that I wanted to talk to her with the mediators at school. She freaked out because she was Miss Goody Two-Shoes and had never been in trouble in her life. To prevent anything from happening, she wrote me back.

  She said, "I'm really sorry. I was too embarrassed to apologize in front of my friends. I don't even really know why I did it. Please forgive me. Oh, and can we please not go to the counselor? I'd prefer not to."

  I finally realized that I hadn't done anything wrong. She was just stupid and jealous and wanted to make my life miserable. But the damage was done. It wasn't her group that bothered me anymore; it was the big huge group of people at school. What she started couldn't be reversed.

  On the very last day of school, Padma came up to me. We had the same P.E. class.

  "You bitch! You slut! I hate you!" she spurted.

  I got really pissed and I glared (something I learned from Karen) and said, "What are you talking about? I've never been mean to you!"

  "You made Callie not be friends with me anymore! I hate you!" she was sobbing her ugly heart out.

  Brianna and Sophie were also in my PE. class. They were eighth graders now, and I was really close to them. They said, "Well, she is the quiet one. Gawd, Anna, why are you so mean? Come, Padma, we'll let you wash up and talk, okay?" Then they left. I was so utterly shocked, I couldn't speak.

  I hung out with my drama friends and all the other loser leftover people. I was okay with a few of them, but I hated the rest. They were the lowest of the low. I cried a lot because every day something would happen. I was so strong before, but it was impossible now. Think about it. A bad day can pass. A bad week is just a bummer week. A mo
nth makes you crabby, but not broken. A year starts to deteriorate you. But six years can kill you.

  I went on the Washington, D.C., trip with Callie. A curious popular girl asked me why people hated me so much. I told her my story. She nodded and sorted it out so that the popular kids wouldn't be as harsh as before. I hung out with them. They liked me. I felt awesome. I felt like I was at the top of the world.

  When we got back, Callie avoided me. She wouldn't talk, and most of all, she stopped waiting for me to go to classes. I asked her what was wrong, and she said that some girl told her that I had never been her friend and I only put up with her because I felt like it. I told her I never said that, but after that, Callie always ignored me. My own best friend ignored me.

  We had gone to the knowledge competition the year before. Callie, Christina, Jennifer, and I were in one group. I thought we were in the same group for sure that year, and I said that. She only nodded slightly.

  I found out that she kicked me out and put Kai in the group instead. Reynu told me that and she said, "Uh, yeah, you're sort of not in the group, so just find another one." I was devastated to find Callie, Christina, and Kai talking like old friends, like how they used to talk to me. I was at the exact same table and I cried. They didn't even notice.

  Jennifer did. Jennifer was angry because she was never told. She bailed out. I thought maybe if Jennifer left, Callie would definitely ask me back. But even if she did ask me, I wouldn't go because that would be using Jennifer. I waited for her to ask. She didn't. In fact, she asked a girl she barely even knew to join. I was so hurt because by choosing a girl she didn't even know she was saying that our friendship didn't mean anything to her.