My very first memory? Oh, I remember it like it was just yesterday!
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I was 8 years old and in the 3rd grade at the time. I attended Westro Elementary School, a gray, concrete facility designed to keep us kids locked in for nearly 7 hours a day, 5 days a week, 9 months out of the year. The entire school was surrounded by a 10 foot tall fence, and the only way in and out was through the large gate in the front. We eat, talk, and listen when we’re told, and fun is highly restricted to keep us in line. There’s no such thing as freedom in a place like this. Obedience is all they want from us, and no one was more obedient than me. At least, up until that day.
I was dragged away from the other kids and was getting “lectured” by the teacher, Mrs. Rodgers, but I always just called her “The Hag.” She looked old enough to be my dad’s great grandma, but she was no nice granny. She was an angry, miserable excuse of a person… so yeah, probably related to my dad. She isn’t even married anymore! I know because she’s mentioned it lots of times in class. She hates her old husband for leaving her - not that I blame the poor guy. I never liked The Hag, and yet, I always tried to get on her good side all year. That’s all I ever tried to do with the adults in my life, but somehow, someway, I always managed to get in trouble anyway.
She was yelling at me for hitting another kid, but it wasn’t just anyone. It was a stupid jerk face from class named Jeremy. He was always on his best behavior during class time, but during recess, he and his cronies liked to pick on the other kids. Tattling on him never works because the teachers don’t care, and if he found out you “snitched” on him, then you were in for a world of hurt. I always hated that, but I had to stay on my best behavior too. He had The Hag on his side, so we just tried to deal with it for as long as we could. No one ever confronted him before, but if there was one thing I learned that day, it’s that there’s a first time for everything.
I still remember it clearly. Sometimes I let the thought play around in my head, just to make myself feel better! I had punched him square on the nose because he was tugging on my braid… oh right, I used to look different back then. I wore a pink cardigan, a long skirt, and a pink bow at the end of my braid. I always hated that outfit, but I had to look nice so others would like me. Some people called me cute when I used to dress like that, but I didn’t feel like it. I felt trapped… and frustrated. And it only got worse as The Hag was yelling at me with her gross coffee breath.
I knew what I did was bad, but it felt right. It felt… justified. Yeah, that’s the word! He was picking on me first, but The Hag didn’t want to hear it. I just had to stand there with my head hanging, trying really hard to fight back my tears as she yelled at me for hurting "sweet Jeremy” and “making that poor angel cry.” I knew he was exaggerating to get me in more trouble, but The Hag wasn’t having any of it. I think she just wanted a reason to yell at a defenseless child, which was exactly what I felt like at that moment. I felt miserable...
I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t hurl insults back at her. I just stood there and took her “lecturing” like a good girl. But there was a nagging question in the back of my mind. She saw that Jeremey pulled my hair. She saw what happened before I punched him in the face. So then why wasn’t he getting in trouble? I felt so... angry.
After failing to hold back my tears, I decided to pipe up. I needed to know the answer to that question.
“B-but, miss, h-he hurt me… why only me...?”
I think that question caught her by surprise, but she didn’t seem puzzled by the idea. Her angry expression began to soften, and after a few seconds, she calmed her voice down. She tried to meet my gaze as she responded. I still remember her voice as she said it. Not angry, but calm and patient, like she was trying to explain it to a baby.
“Oh honey, he’s just a boy. Sometimes they do hurtful things, but that just means he likes you.”
“But Mrs. Rodgers, he-”
Hold on a second. Did I hear that right?
“But Miss… he hurt me…”
I don’t think I ever went from sad to confused that quickly in my entire life. My tears stopped. I never liked looking others in the eyes before - it always made me feel anxious - but I had to look her dead in the eyes to make sure I wasn’t going crazy. My crying had completely stopped. I needed her to say that again.
“Oh sweetie, just don’t let it bother you. Boys can be aggressive, but it’s nothing to get upset about.”
Her words... It felt like she struck my brain with a stupid stick. I was completely dumb-struck by what she said. I had to take a moment to process the information she was trying to feed me. I think she realized it too, because she gave me a minute to think it over. And then, I finally understood she was being completely serious. And I hated it.
“H-he pulled on my braid after I told him to stop. Three times I told him to stop.” I had to hold up my fingers to make it easier for her to understand. “He picks on other kids, too. You’ve seen this. We’ve told you this!””
Maybe I really was going crazy. I had to say this as slowly and clearly as possible so she could get the whole picture. Maybe she didn’t know he’s a bully. Maybe her old age was catching up to her. Maybe she’s just that stupid. Whatever it was, something was clearly wrong here, and it was not me.
“Alexis, what did I just tell you? Boys will be boys, so just calm down.”
I hated that. I hated that so much.
I would’ve never considered myself an angry person before that day, but what she told me made me furious. I had to wipe away my tears so she knew I wasn’t sad anymore. I didn’t even realize both my hands were curled up into fists. I wanted to hit something so bad. I was shaking so, so much.
“... no.”
“Excuse me?”
“NO!”
I didn’t realize what I was saying at the time. The fury I was feeling that day was too intense for me to understand, but I knew it felt right. For the first time in my life, it felt like I was making my own decisions.
And it felt good.
“Excuse me young lady, how dare you speak to me like-”
“I warned him that I was going to hit him if he kept bothering me, so why am I the only one getting in trouble!?”
“Because you’re supposed to know better, Alexis.”
“I asked you to call me Alex already!”
“And I told you Alex is a boy’s name, so don’t you dare raise your voice at-”
“NO! I SAID STOP CALLING ME THAT, and I told you he should get in trouble TOO, and I told HIM to stop hurting other people, and-”
I’ll never forget what The Hag did next. First, she was looking around to make sure no one was looking. Then she yanked me by the braid as she whispered in my ear through gritted teeth.
“That’s it! I was trying to be patient with you, but I’m taking you to the principal's office! You have a lot to explain to Mr. Laurance, since you like talking so much.”
She silenced my complaints by tugging me against my will. I hated my hair being pulled like that, so I just went along with it. But I hated her for that.
“YOU SUCK! I HATE YOU!”
“Ha, of course you do, sweetie. You’re just too young to understand. You’ll realize I’m doing this for your own good when you’re older.”
Psh, as if! She’s taking the wrong kid to the principal's office, and she resorted to hair-pulling of all things! Does she actually believe that? Does she honestly think she’s in the right?
Of course she does.
All adults are the same. They’re just a bunch of big bullies, and they think they’re always right. But they’re not. I’m always right! In fact, I should’ve punched Jeremy sooner. He got off easy! I don’t care what he thinks. Or The Hag, my dad, stepmom, the counselors, the principal, the police, the doctors, the firefighters, or even the president himself! If I feel it’s right, then I know it’s right. Everything I do is right. Everyone else is wrong...
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Later that day, I barged into my brother’s room and took the box of old clothes from his closet. He doesn’t like it when other people go in there without his permission, but he was forced to join the army by my dad, so he wasn’t around. And besides, I’m sure he’d understand. He knows me like that. He’s probably the only one who gets me.
It was a large, old cardboard box full of his old clothes. It was taped up pretty well, so I went through my dad’s drawer while he was at work and got a huge pair of scissors. I wasn’t allowed to use them without "adult supervision," so of course I didn’t tell anyone about it. I ran back to the room with scissors in hand, zipping past Martha. “Hey, don’t run so fast! You could’ve stepped on my heels.” The most vain woman in the world is my dad’s current wife, and the mother of my little half-brother. My real mom left my dad shortly after I was born…
BUT ANYWAY, I got the clothes out and dressed in my new outfit! I was always told I looked just like my brother did when he was a kid, but I didn’t really see it until now. I ran to the bathroom, holding onto those scissors tightly so I don’t drop them, and looked at myself in the mirror. I loved my new look. I felt happy and free!
… until I noticed my braid.
I realize now that what I did was very rash, but at the time, I took a good, long look at my braid in my reflection. I tried to remember the good it did for me, but it only took me about 2 seconds before I grabbed it tight and snipped right through it. I never had a haircut before in my life, but again, there’s a first time for everything. I held onto that long clump of hair like it was the tail-end of a snake, and dropped it right into the trash with the rest of the garbage. There was no turning back now
This was the new me, and I loved it. Regardless of what anyone thought.
I loved the new me.
Though maybe I can find someone who’d love this new me, too.
Maybe?
Ah, that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I loved myself, and that’s it!
R-right...?
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