(no subject)

[coraa]

So tonight jmpava and I were talking, and I realized that I hadn't told... most of you? any of you? the story of why I wound up going to the terrifying private school. Hint: it's not religious mania in my family. It had nothing to do with not liking public schools, or secular schools. It's that the local public school was, for me, much worse than even a scary private religious school.

This is also, in a very real way, the story of the way I learned that conflict is sometimes not as effective as walking away. It's also the story of how I first became a rabid feminist. It's also, maybe, a story of why many women worry about different things than many men. It's also a story of how maybe women who you don't think of might be a sexual harassment statistic.

A few notes to begin: I avoid naming names and places on purpose; please respect that. Also, it's not locked, because I am not ashamed of it, and because I think more people need to say things publicly about sexual harassment and the use of physical abuse to keep socially unacceptable girls down -- but it is an uncomfortable story, so be aware of that. Important, but uncomfortable. Also, I've had friends who had been raped -- not to mention that I follow the news, where I hear of more atrocities than I could shake a forest of sticks at -- so I know that my experience is not the be-all and end-all of trauma. Please don't feel the need to tell me that other people dealt with so much worse; it will just make me angry at you. I'm not trying to monger for sympathy; I'm telling something that's true about my life. This is my story; it is mine; it is important to me.

Like many people, I'd never been popular in elementary school -- but like many people, my unpopularity was more of a deal in junior high. I went from being vaguely-mocked and mostly-ignored to being the pariah, and all but two of my friends jumped ship and stopped talking to me after it became apparent that I was about as good for their reputations as bubonic plague. This would have been bearable -- irritating, sad, but quite deal-with-able -- except for the way that two of the boys in my English class chose to express their disdain for the social pariah.

They started groping me. In class. I don't think they were actually attracted to me (though I matured a little bit early, so I think breasts were an attractive novelty -- but it really didn't seem to be about sex). They had just been spending weeks finding ways to make me cry, and that was the most foolproof one. Taunts and insults I could ignore, nasty pranks I could overlook, but reach for my breasts and I would instantly turn red, hyperventilate, start to cry. It was easy, and they wanted to belittle me, to make me cry, and so they did it all the time. Two or three times a week.

Did I complain to the teacher? Of course I did -- after it became clear the problem wouldn't go away on its own, I summoned my courage and talked to the teacher. (Those of you who know how much I dislike conflict will know that that means it must've been upsetting me pretty badly.) He said that he couldn't do anything. Why? He hadn't seen it, of course. Ah. So it was mine to deal with. (The fact that he'd had two students regularly groping a third, and that third crying in class, without seeing it, spoke either to gross negligence -- which, given the way he ran the class in general, was possible -- or of not wanting to take a stand.)

What's more, about a month later, he rearranged seating. And put me right between them. I don't know if that was more gross negligence, or an attempt to show me what happened to people who rocked the boat.

I had been telling my parents about this the whole time. (To their credit, I never, never, never was afraid to tell them what was going on. My parents and I don't see eye to eye, but I have never doubted that they loved me or would back me up.) They went to speak to the administration when it became clear that my reporting it to the teacher would do nothing. The administration referred me to a counselor to 'resolve' the issue.

Meanwhile the problem continued, and since I now sat between them, it had increased to pretty near daily. I went to the counselor. I told him the whole sad story. He started to try to think of ways for me to stop them from doing it -- as though writing them letters saying that I didn't appreciate it would do a lot of good! -- but finally called the boys in question in to 'discuss' it. (I wasn't there.) Afterward I found out that both boys had denied it (of course) and backed each other up (of course), and so he said that he couldn't do anything. My word against theirs. His hands were tied.

"Okay," I said, "okay, I don't need them punished, that's fine, but can I be in a different class? A different period? A different seating arrangement? Something?"

"Why sure!" said the counselor. "Except we can't do anything about it now, so you'll have to wait for the end of the semester to change periods, because we never move students mid-semester. But then we'll move you."

I grit my teeth. I bear it. It keeps happening. The teacher is deliberately not paying attention, I'm sure. If I scream, I'll get in trouble for disrupting class, and the boys will have removed their hands as soon as he looks -- why should I have faith the teacher will do anything to protect me, when he hasn't for months? If deck the boys, I'll get in trouble, and it'll give them a reason to hate me more. And I can't risk that.

I start crying every weeknight, and every Sunday night, because I have to go back, and there's nothing I can do to protect myself.

I start volunteering for the teachers I like and trust. I clean the science teacher's lab after hours. I help the history teacher file papers. I do this because I'm afraid to walk home after school, when they're walking home. If they'll put their hands on my breasts in the middle of class, in full light, with an authority figure there, what will they do if they get me alone?

I get called back to the counselor. There's a snag, he says; my schedule is such that I can't be moved. (Why? I don't ask. I'm eleven, and easily cowed, easily frightened, especially now. I don't know how to stand up for myself.) But they'll move the two boys. I don't want to be in the room with the teacher who won't protect me, but I agree: as long as my tormentors are gone, I'll manage okay.

Also, he wants to know: what could I have been doing to provoke them? I have no idea how to answer.

(I don't recognize the ridiculous misogyny of this question until I report it to my mother, and see fire in her eyes. I'm eleven. I'm pretty sheltered.)

I wait for the change of the semester. I count the days until the boys will no longer be sitting right next to me every day.

I show up after the Christmas break... and there they are, sitting on either side of me, when I'd been promised I would now be away from them, safe. I go home in tears.

My parents go in to talk to the counselor. He says that the secretaries changed the schedule back. Why? I don't know. He won't answer them. It can't be changed back. He won't explain.

(We could sue. Do we sue? No. We don't have any money; we have just barely enough for food, not for lawyers. My dad's in college; we're living on a teacher's aide's salary and a military retirement. We have no money for a lawsuit, and if we anger the school district, my mom can lose her job. She's an at-will employee, after all.)

I start getting threatening notes from the girlfriends of the boys who are harassing me. They hate me for the same reason the boys do: I'm a pariah, an easy scapegoat. They hate me for another reason: their boyfriends are touching my breasts. They want to beat me up. I make sure I don't leave school when they're around, either.

My parents and I talk, and talk, and talk. They talk to the administration. Short of suing, there's nothing to do, and my parents won't leave me somewhere like that. (A boy -- another outcast -- kills himself that year. My mom said, years later, that that was what decided her: I wasn't suicidal then, but with another year of that? two years? three? -- who can say? Maybe I would've gone to the junior high and hanged myself from a basketball backboard, too.) The only other option in town is the scary conservative Christian school. They switch me over. (This is a significant financial hardship, but they bear it without complaint, because they cannot bear to see me hurt like that and do nothing.)

The school district is sad to see my GPA go, but relieved to see the back of a 'problem' student.

The private school was scary, repressive, controlling. Was it the wrong decision to send me there?

...Well, I didn't kill myself, there. No one ever touched me there, against my will. No one ever made me fear for my safety. I don't know. I doubt it was worse, though it wasn't good. I don't know what two more years of abuse would've done to me. Lying about my political affiliation was much, much easier than the year I spent weeping as people touched my body and I could. not. make. it. stop.

I think you would be surprised how many women have stories like this, that it never occurs to them to tell. I forget, sometimes. It's easy. I don't think it traumatized me -- but it's important, and it's real, and it happened.

Please, please, do not try to explain to me what I or my parents should have done differently. There might've been a different way to solve the problem -- but I was eleven, and we were poor. And furthermore, it shouldn't be the place of the victim to solve the problem. I hate that I have to make this caveat, but....

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/greensleeves_/]

Stories like this make me so livid with rage I could vomit! Those teachers, that school administration, those monsters disguised as children... *snarl*

I am so glad you survived and did not kill yourself. My life would have been substantially less special if I had not met you. *hugs*

[artemis-lizzie.livejournal.com]

Oh, seconded on the rage. Seriously.

[coraa.livejournal.com]

Yeah. At the time I was more angry at the boys; in retrospect I'm more angry at the teacher, and the administration. The boys were just garden-variety jackasses, but what does it take to watch that happen to a child and do nothing?

[donaithnen.livejournal.com]

I agree with pretty much everything greensleeves just said. =/

Barring the possibility of inventing time travel to go back and make those people suffer, i'm really looking forward to the day when it will be possible for everyone to record everything that's going on around them at all times. Well, at least i will be if the courts can get enough of a clue to realize such recordings would have to fall under 5th amendment rights.

[artemis-lizzie.livejournal.com]

Oh, god, I can't even imagine something like that happening. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. I hadn't heard abuot the private school before, but I can definitely understand why you went there instead of the public school. I think sometimes about how easy I've had it during my life, and this is certainly a story that enforces that. I'm so sorry that this whole thing happened to you.

[coraa.livejournal.com]

The private school was pretty bad, but at least I was safe. Repressed, but safe. (I should post about that someday, too, but not today....)

I really came out of it pretty okay, but yeah. It sucks. It's part of why I'm a tooth-gnashing feminist -- and that's not a bad response, I think!

[willworker.livejournal.com]

I hate those circumstances. And the worst part is, I hear it daily in the psych ED (and I'm only seeing a few patients/day!) I feel like school is one of the most toxic environments you can put someone who doesn't fit mainstream values, and situations like this happen more as the rule than the exception. I'm surprised that as many of us make it out mostly sane as we do. And we made it out the good direction. There're the outcasts who didn't have some marketable skill/intelligence to go to college/etc, and end up following the "pregnant twice by 20, 50 hr/week at McDonald's" or even "carry a 9mm and sell drugs" route, and I fully believe that kids being nasty to each other is at last partly to blame.

::hug:: I'm glad you turned out as well as you did.

::hug:: Love always,
Steve

[livinglaurel.livejournal.com]

Heh, that reminds me (perhaps inappropriately) that Kurt Cobain said once in an interview he was informally voted something like "Most Likely to Kill Everyone at the Senior Prom." Heh.

[coraa.livejournal.com]

Hell, I think school is often pretty toxic even for mainstream people. The unrelenting social boiler can be pretty hard for people who do fit in, too, because maintaining social status is such hard, delicate, capricious work.

I think I made it out pretty okay -- which is actually part of why I posted this; I think sometimes people assume that, if you came out cheerful and stable, you must've never encountered it. Which is why I think people underestimate how often it happens.

[livinglaurel.livejournal.com]

Wow, does all that sound horrifyingly familiar.

I wasn't openly groped, but starting in about fourth grade up to eighth (after which point I went to a private boarding school, but by then it was wayy too late for me and school, and I dropped out after a quarter) I was The Outcast, altho the sexual harrassment stuff didn't start until about sixth grade (up until then it was "just" daily teasing, except "teasing" sounds really innocuous, and this wasn't). Altho the sexual stuff was more of the terrorizing we're-going-to-tell-you-what-we're-going-to-do-to-you-in-detail stuff by older boys; I do remember getting attacked (pinched with fingernails, poked with a sharp pin, &c &c) in class a bunch of times, but not anything major. I had learned really early on my parents, altho they sympathized mightily, couldn't do anything, and the teachers/administration/counselors wouldn't do anything, so I just never told anyone in authority anything after a while, even tho some other (older) girls urged me to. But 1) there was no point and 2) it would have just pissed off the people who were angry at me even more.

I think you really hit the nail on the head about what gets so awful about it after a while -- it's in broad daylight, the authority figures are RIGHT there, everyone _knows_ what's going on (how could they not), and it doesn't stop and there's nothing you can do to make it stop. I routinely missed something like over 1/3 of the school year because I'd get sick -- and that wasn't malingering, either, I'd be so freaked out and afraid I'd get shooting stomach pains and they thought I was developing ulcers and so on.

Anyway. Not to hijack your story. Just....man, do I know what that feels like. And the whole "it's not the victim's problem to solve" and "what did you do to make them mad/provoke them" and "you can't be moved" -- yeah. Just....yeah.

I think that's a LOT more common than most people (okay, men) realize, because women aren't encouraged to talk about it (if you do, you're whining or you "can't take a joke") and it's also just ingrained into the culture at this point. If you're teased or harrassed, it's assumed to be _your_ problem, you don't fit in somehow, and the Madding Crowd isn't doing anything wrong in ostracizing or scapegoating or whatever else they decide to do to you.

[coraa.livejournal.com]

I routinely missed something like over 1/3 of the school year because I'd get sick -- and that wasn't malingering, either, I'd be so freaked out and afraid I'd get shooting stomach pains and they thought I was developing ulcers and so on.

Yes! Me too. I had stomachache with frightening regularity. (Though my mother always took me home without complaint -- she knew perfectly well what was causing the stomachaches -- the secretaries started to accuse me of trying to get out of class when I came in to call her. As though it were their business!)

But yeah. It was knowing that these things could happen to me in what was hypothetically safe space -- that it wasn't an if-you're-walking-in-a-back-alley-at-night fear, it was something that could happen in daylight in public with no one willing to step up. That was scary, because there's no way to avoid that kind of public life. I had to go to school (well, at least unless I was sick, which is why my body made itself sick so often, I think), and, upon going to school, there was no escaping it.

I think that's why, occasionally, when I tell the story I get 'you should have's. You should have sued! gone to the papers! learned karate! -- Because it's easier to say 'well, if you'd had a small tactical nuke in your purse, no one would have bothered you' than to admit that the culture is such that this can happen to someone who is doing nothing wrong. Who is doing exactly what is expected of her.

(And please please please don't worry about hijacking. More people should talk/hear about this kind of thing.)

The number of people (mostly men, but also women) who I've heard confidently express that "that sort of thing doesn't happen where I [grew up/went to school/live]" is part of what made me post this. I think a lot of people think it doesn't happen because they never, ever hear about it -- so if they are fortunate enough to have never been the subject of sexual harassment (most men, and some women) (which I certainly don't begrudge them!), it's invisible. And the only way to make people aware of it is to make them hear about, to talk about it, in public, out loud, and without shame. It's real. It happens. I got through it fine, it's not life-ending or even personality-destroying, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen, that doesn't mean it wasn't bad, that doesn't mean it isn't still a problem in the world. It's real. People should hear.

*end soapbox*

[ceph.livejournal.com]

In addition to the feminist issues, this sort of thing makes me wonder why there are not more efforts to put junior high kids in an environment where they do not feel the need to engage in casual cruelty (or, for that matter, formal cruelty.) Or maybe it's an inevitable product of human nature, but I find that a tremendously depressing conclusion. I read an essay once--perhaps you've run across it--that suggested such behavior was a result of putting people in a community where they don't feel they can accomplish anything truly productive. The other examples it gave were prisons and the social circles of "society wives."

Obviously I am not in any way trying to suggest that your tormentors were not responsible for their actions, just that it would be nice if there were a way to keep them from becoming such soulless little bastards in the first place.

[coraa.livejournal.com]

Yes, very much so.

As I mentioned above, at the time my rage and fear was focused on the two boys (naturally, because they were my direct tormentors) -- but in retrospect I don't think they were the worst villains of the piece. Teenagers are often horrible to one another, after all. But why did the teacher do nothing? It would have cost him very little to say "[Name]! Hands to yourself!" And I honestly think that a few iterations of that would have made them seek other amusement. Why was he allowing the inmates to run the asylum? Why was there no attempt to at least keep them busy enough that their hands would be occupied with something else?

I certainly think the boys were responsible for their actions -- but they were children. Why were they tacitly encouraged to continue? Why wouldn't the district at least deprive them of their plaything?

It's baffling.

[istgut.livejournal.com]

I've read a number of essays that thing that the majority of problems we as a society have with adolescents is due to the fact that we stick them all together instead of making them mix with adults. The lack of anything productive to accomplish makes sense, too. I wonder if harassment at the workplace happens more with folks who also feel unproductive. Certainly, if you keep people busy all the time then they simply don't have time to harass anyone.

[cwendy41.livejournal.com]

I read about stuff like this happening all the time but just figured that it's something new since it never happened to me and nothing like that happened when I was in school (at least not that I knew of). Kids fought all the time at school but nobody touched each other inappropriately.

Except that you're my age, so this happened more than ten years ago, not now which makes it really creepy.

Also, it seems like your principal was a guy as is the teacher and the counselor. If they were women, I wonder if things would have been differently.

[coraa.livejournal.com]

Yeah. Well, and it's easy to miss -- friends of mine who were going to school with me at the time didn't all know about it. So it can go on without anyone hearing about it really easily.

I do wonder. The principal, vice principal (in charge of discipline), counselor, and teacher were all male. There were female teachers I could talk to, but most of them were powerless (one was being railroaded into retirement, in fact). I think there was a heavy dose of 'boys will be boys.'

[livinglaurel.livejournal.com]

When it happened to me, it was 1984 (yes I am old). The vice-principal of the school was actually a woman, who liked me quite a bit. But I never really told her, either. I really think it's an ingrained cultural thing.

[buymeaclue.livejournal.com]

Awful. Inexcusable.

Good on your parents for moving you.

[theinated.livejournal.com]

+1

Wow. I don't know what to say in addition to the eloquent comments above.

[2gouda4u.livejournal.com]

It's funny - I have this mentality that I was a nerd and social outcast at school, but I don't really remember anything that would back that up. Certainly an experience like yours would stick in my mind. I think I was just shy and awkward, so didn't make a lot of friends at first, and therefore assumed everyone must think I was a social outcast. Considering I wound up with a decent group of friends within a couple of years of starting junior high (and friends even before then), I think I must have had nothing to complain about. I'm sorry you went through that :-( It freaks me out that something so crucial to children's development is simultaneously so damaging to anyone out of the mainstream. It's also what makes me feel like humans are not good creatures, in practice.

[fairnymph.livejournal.com]

Thank you for sharing this. What an awful fucking time you went through. I too was a social pariah at your age, though I never had to deal with physical abuse, thank god. I can't get over how TERRIBLY the school handled the whole situation - just so incredibly unacceptable and ethically WRONG. I think your parents did admirably switching you to another school.

My mother's response to my emotional abuse in public school was to homeschool me for 2-3 years. I think it was for the best, and I'm glad she did it.

[eepmirva.livejournal.com]

Wow, that sucks. Just no other words for it.

I actually read this entry this morning (like, during the 2 mins I was waiting for my bus) was about to reply, realized I was going to miss my bus so ran for it and spent the whole day thinking about how much it sucked for you.

But your right, that kind of thing happens all the time (though I don't know anyone who had to deal with something as awful as you had to deal with - or at least, no one who was then willing to talk to me.)

Anyway, at some point today I felt like I had something useful to say, but now my brain has turned off because it's tired. If it comes back, maybe I'll have something more to say later. But for now, just wanted to let you know I'm very, very sorry you had to go through that and glad your parents were able to get you out of it!

[archonsengine.livejournal.com]

I've been trying to figure out what an appropriate response is for the past day, but instead of trying to say the perfect thing, I just want to pass along sympathy (toward you) and anger (toward all the assholes of the story, not just the immediate ones). I'm sorry you had to go through that.

[jmpava.livejournal.com]

Really only one thing I want to emphasize on top of what we already discussed. I think this story puts your parents in FAR better light then many of your other ones, and makes me understand why you don't hate them for 'sticking you in a cult high-school'. I think it's a very important element for understanding your family situation.

[clairebaxter.livejournal.com]

I was harassed in high school, though thankfully nowhere near as bad as your situation -- it wasn't physical. I let the (female) teacher know, went to my (female) counselor, and got more or less the same response. Though, in their slight defense, there really wasn't any other section of the class to be switched to. The sad thing is, I think my teacher felt powerless in that class all the time.

I ended up dropping the class, a semester short of my language requirement. It made me feel much better to be able to get out of a bad situation, but it sucks that I was the one who payed the price for it. I had to take another language, the whole two years (or equivalent), because I wasn't willing to put up with six more months of harassment. Bleh.

And I'm still not willing to wear short skirts outside of my home and am wary of wearing tank tops in public, 13 years later.

I'm glad you shared your story. I hope mine, if not exactly making you feel better, lets you know you're not alone.

[triath.livejournal.com]

Oh my gosh. I can't imagine going through what you went through. I am so glad that you made it through and are the wonderful person we know today. I am honored that you shared this personal story with me.