So in an attempt to be less bitter at my years in high school, I joined a online group of fellow students. One of the topics of discussion was favorite teachers. I realized that one of my favorite teachers was witness to one of the many meltdowns I had in high school. This was before I was diagnosed as bi-polar. However, this particular, meltdown, was not without cause.
There was a group of boys in my class who engaged in behavior that, even in the '90s, would meet the legal definition of sexual harassment. While I offered many a tart response and usually fired back with comments that also crossed the line into cruelty, the fact is, they scared the hell out of me. I spent the better part of my junior year afraid that anyone of them was going to drag me somewhere and either rape me or beat me for not having sex with them. In retrospect I realize they were just being stupid teenage boys. They didn't realize that 4 or 5 guys all 6 feet tall or more and athletes (most commonly wrestling or football) would frighten the unpopular 5'5 fat girl.
Years of much larger schools and uncaring staff had trained me well. I never once asked for the schools aid in dealing with the situation. In the mid-90's this would not have mean automatic prosecution in a small town. So it wasn't the idea of 'sending someone to jail' that stopped me. I was my background in other schools were school administration simply wouldn't act on this sort of problem. At the time I had no expectation of help (I was wrong) and feared retribution from other students. Now, I do not think the retribution would have been physical, but I do think there would have been verbal attacks. However, I do think that had I asked, the administration would have responded in a helpful and sane manner.
Anyways, the meltdown pretty much put an end to the abuse. They weren't bad boys (I say boys, because that's what they were, whether or not they grew into men, I have no clue) they were just 16-17 year old assholes. Who isn't asshole at that age. I doubt they have any clue of the havoc the wreaked. I doubt they even remember who I am, despite me being traumatize and still whinging on about at 32. One of the things I don't regret is the fact that charges were never pressed. Yes, what they did was sexual harassment in every sense of the term, but they shouldn't have had their lives irrevocably altered because of it. Many women have told me that I should have pressed charges, that they should have carried the weight of what happened for as long as I have. But that's vengeance, not justice. I have enough shit to deal with, without indulging in something so petty as vengeance.
Local rumor mill tells me that at least one of them has a daughter now. I'd be curious as to what he would think about someone talking to his daughter and making her feel as afraid as I was. I'd bet anything that he has a drastically different idea now. Most of all, I highly doubt any of them remember who I am. Ultimately, that is their loss. I've grown into someone very much worth knowing, since high school. I hope they have.
I learned two very important things from that meltdown. One was that I didn't have to put up with that sort of abuse...from anyone. The other was that I didn't need anyone to defend me, I'm quite capable of that on my own. If they do remember me, I hope they learned as much from that incident as I did.
