Cutting .. & Bullied ..
My Name Is Tiffany Dickerson & Earlier In The Year I Was Getting Bullied .. Bad . . It Got So Bad I Turned To Cutting . Unlike People , I Could Turn To Cutting & I Always Knew It Would Be There . It Let Me Hurt Myself in ways people couldn’t . I Was Wrong , It hurt just the same . I was cutting pretty bad too . I Told My Best friend Kelcee , & I told her not to tell anybody . About Two Weeks Passed & I was getting bullied Even Worse , My mom called the cops .. My Mom Called My Best friend’s mom Because She Was There for me through everything . Her Mom Told My Mom i was cutting again & I Felt My World Just Crash . My mom asked to see my stomach & i Refused . I Was So Mad That My Best friend Broke Her Promise Not To Tell Anyone .. I eventually showed my mom my cuts on my stomach . She Started Crying .. & Seeing How Bad it Hurt My Mom Made me realize i wasn’t just hurting myself i was hurting the ones i loved too .. I Got so mad at Kelcee that i wouldn’t talk to her , i told her i didn’t want to be her friend & That i couldn’t trust her .. An Hour Passed & Kelcee Showed Up At My House With Her Mom .. I didn’t even wanna look at her face , but i realized her eyes were all puffy & Red From Crying .. I ran inside & Started to cry , She came inside & We Talked together , cried together .. Our Moms Came inside & Her Mom Talked To Me About Her Family Member Committing Suicide , & How Hard it was for all of them & how they didn’t want to lose Another close Family Friend .. I Realized I wasn’t alone , I Had people there for me . I Had People Wanting To Help Me Get through all of this . I wasn’t alone . They Were There For me . Every Step Of The Way & I Don’t Know What i would do with out them ..My Best Friend wasn’t trying to hurt me by telling , She Was Helping , Yeah It Made Me Mad , But Its been 3 months since I’ve last cut . & It Feels Pretty Damn Good . I’m Getting Stronger each day . I Know I Don’t Have To Face Any Of This Alone Ever Again .
Don’t make that ugly Cut , Put Down That Razor , The Knife , The Scissors , The Broken Glass . Just Put It Down . Don’t Make That First Cut . It’ll Get You Addicted To The Pain . It’ll Ruin Your Life . I Know the Withdraws , There Hell . You Feel Like You Need To . Its Like a Drug , heroin , Cocaine , Meth . It’s Like You Can’t Live With Out It , I Know . But You Can . You Just Have To Try , & I Mean Try Hard . Talk To Someone . Talk To me , Even If We Don’t Talk I’m Here For You , You Can Talk To me . If You Need Help , I Can Help you Through This . You’re Not Alone .
- Tiffany Dickerson , 15 .
Trigger Warning: Suicide, Child abuse (physical, sexual and emotional), slut shaming children
I remember when my mothe tried to drown me. I remember when she almost murdered my dad’s girlfriend in front of me. I remember rolling down a hill onto a ground hornets nest and instead of waking up in a hospital, waking up to find a strange grown man’s fingers inside me. I remember being about 9 years old and being strangled by my dad’s girlfriend while she told me I was a slut and my father doesn’t love me. I remember knowing that he would never choose me over her, because I had already told him that I don’t like her and she’s mean to me and he competely ignored it. I remember almost dying so many fucking times it’s hard to really believe myself. I can remember 10 sexual abusers off the top of my head before I ever turned 15, and I’m not really digging that hard because I’m afraid to know the real number.
It’s hard to want to live in a world where all that can happen to one person, especially a relatively privileged white, able-bodied man such as myself. It’s hard to believe that I’m not broken forever. It’s hard to acknowlege any of it as real and not just stirring up drama or blowing things out of proportion. That was my dad’s favorite line when I was a kid, that I’m blowing things out of proportion and making mountains out of molehills. Oh come on, he’d say, it doesn’t hurt all that bad! And then he’d laugh and grab me and pull out his knife and say, I can give you something to REALLY cry about if you want, and when I’d scream and struggle until he let me go he’d just watch and laugh as I ran away and hid from him.
Fuck. I’m so angry that I had my childhood stolen from me like that. I don’t want to live in a world where people like my biological father exist.
To all those people who told me that God never gives us more than we can handle, I say that your God expects too much of children.
I know I’m not alone. We all walk around scarred by experiences from our childhood; no one emerges unscathed. Because of this universality, we tend to dismiss bullying as an unavoidable part of growing up. “Kids will be kids,” right?
I disagree. Kids will be what we teach them to be.
Donna Brazile, “Words Do Hurt,” Ms. Magazine summer 2011
Some more great quotes from the piece:
Some will reject this proposed legislation as ultimately ineffectual. But kids mimic the behaviors modeled for them. As long as their models treat bullying as par for the course, it will be.
[Y]oung adults who reported high rates of LGBT-related bullying were 2.6 times more likely than others who weren’t so bullied to be clinically depressed and 5.6 times more likely to commit suicide.
If this were any other group of kids, we would never stand for this. Yet with LGBT youth, we somehow believe that it’s okay for their daily lives to be torture, as if it will inure them to the vicious realities of being a minority class.
I just had this fight with my roommate last night. His excuse for bullying was that we all needed thick skin. Why? Why can’t we all just love one another. Do we really need thick skin? He also looked at me and laughed saying, quite proudly, that he would have been a bully toward me when we were kids. Really? that’s not something to be proud of! How dare you! You should be ashamed of yourself! and this is all coming form a TRANS GAY MALE! what the fuck is wrong with you?!(via mycaptainraydor)
The Futility of Suicide as a Response to Bullying
Where is everyone when a kid gets bullied for being fat? Usually urging the victim to meet with a nutritionist or go to Weight Watchers in order to fit in. Where are the “enlightened” members of the American populace when a child is tormented for speaking differently? Maybe giving the child pamphlets for ESL classes or speech therapists. When a child is tortured for having a disability, what happens? No one listens, and when someone DOES (as in the case of James Jones’ daughter) they are arrested for standing up to the perpetrators. And the parents of the child are usually advised to transfer their kid to a new school.
I remember being bullied all through my school years. Every day from 2nd grade up through college. Kids chanting songs calling me derogatory names. Boys calling me a slut because I was more developed then other girls my age. Sexual harassment on the middle school bus. Kids pushing each other into me. Spitting at me. Throwing sodas out of car windows as I was walking down the street. I still feel the pain today, though I have been out of school for 15 years. I suspect that I developed Borderline personality disorder as a direct result of the torment I went through as a child.I remember cutting myself over and over again to attempt to relieve the psychological trauma caused by my bullies. I begged my parents to transfer me to a new school, believing that somehow, things would get better in a new environment. I cannot even begin to tell you the number of times that I sat at home crying, contemplating killing myself to escape from my torment.Problem is, if I decided to kill myself, I realized, the bullies would have won. They would all show up at my funeral, and pretend that they really cared. They would cry and go to the therapist that is usually offered to the student body of the school when kids kill themselves They would go on and on about how special I was, how much I would be missed. And they would NEVER admit their complicity in my death. Nope. Instead, the would play the role of the victim, mourning after the death of a “friend”.
Beautiful, true words. Continue reading here.