Somehow, I always felt different.
this image was created by me.
without the use of AI and incorporating a created 3d computer model mixed with photography.
The year was 1994, she was 12 and her first kiss was in August to a gorgeous east Canadian islander. Everything was unclear after that because once the new school year began in September, everything changed completely. Like most girls who evolve significantly during their early teen years, hers had a massive impact on her that she would carry with her for the rest of her life. The experience was one of trauma and confusion.
In September there was great curiosity to the other. She had grown up eclectic, a bit geeky, extremely artistic and fantastical. She had always wanted to test boundaries and it had never gotten her into trouble until it applied to people. Her changing body, clothing style and reverence for other girls who appeared to be “cooler” than her is what attracted her to the other. She eventually made her way into the cool group while leaving her past friends in confusion and animosity towards her.
As time passed, she studied these girls but never understood them, never understood their actions and why they did what they did. She felt no connection, she tried everything she could to fit in and be their friend. Everyday there was discomfort, but she kept holding on, wearing her mask. Along with cool girls are the cool boys, one does not exist without the other. Later that year one of the cool boys became attracted to her, she fooled around with him under the main stair of her elementary school. After recess, after school, a few kisses would be stolen under that stair. Why was she so uncomfortable to be kissed by him was unclear to her. Why should an event that should be so magical seem so daunting? Was this the way it was supposed to be? She couldn’t complain to her friends because the cool girls stuck up for the cool boys and vice versa, that was the underlying structure and inner workings of the group. She didn’t understand that there were specific codes to stay wanted in the group, so she did what she knew best and went along with everything they said and did.
In 1994 the big method of communication was via landline phone. As the boys called her house her father grew increasingly frustrated. Daddy didn’t want her little girl to be taken advantaged of, every father knows the intentions of little boys’ minds. She developed a close relationship with one of the other cool boys while stealing daily kisses with the other cool boy. Was this a relationship? What was this? She had no idea, she confided in the other cool boy, they talked, they were friends, everything seemed cool, and she began to feel as if she was finally fitting in, being understood. Her cool boy wanted more than just kisses and as 12-year-old she did not have the tools to say no, or know even how to say no.
One day after school her cool boy that wanted more than just kisses took her under the stair, kissed her and immediately ran off to a different location. As she exited the stair area, 4 other cool boys who were core members of the group had waited and watched while they kissed under the stair, they cornered her one by one into the wired glass door and each took turns trying to touch her. They egged her on into the school through the gymnasium, somehow one of the doors were left propped open. One of the cool boys threw her down onto the cold gym floor and each took turns dry humping her while cheering each other on and all ran out of the gymnasium to escape the school premises. Brushing herself off she got up and picked up her backpack and continued out of the gym, unsure of exactly what she did to create this situation. She blamed herself.
Things ended with the cool boy as she did not do what he wanted and was not even keen on the relationship. She confided in Cool boy 2 as a good friend who spoke with her daily, cool boy 2 wanted her but she did not want him. It was almost as if the cool boys had been her better friends? Cool girls were not as nice as she thought they were. On January 1st, 1995, her 12-year-old self received a phone call at her home from cool boy’s 2 female cousin at 12:01 am. “I wouldn’t go to school on Monday if I were you or you will get your ass kicked”. What just happened seemed like a movie, the entire event felt unreal. When asked by her Mom who it was, she said a friend had called to wish her a happy new year. Uncomfortable that she did in fact truly did wrong, she could not tell anyone. She still did not understand.
Monday came and went, and she did get her ass kicked. Oddly enough during first recess the cool girl friends were nowhere to be found, neither were her old eclectic and geeky friends around. She was suddenly alone and everyone had dispersed, everything felt vacant and cold. She asked herself over and over what exactly it was that she did wrong, there must have been a reason for the cool boys of the group wanting to kick her ass. The routine was as followed for the next 3 weeks of ass kicking: Each recess cool boy 1 and cool boy 2 would encourage their friend cool boy 3 to hit, kick her or spit on her. Cool boy 3 had known her since kindergarten and at points they were friends, naturally he felt guilty doing it, but it came at the cost of being expelled from the cool group.
At times she was beaten quietly behind the portables or sometimes walking away and kicked or tripped from behind. Sometimes there would even be full on battles where groups of students had congregated around to watch her get beaten and try to fight back. She was in part a freak, a show, the entertainment for being beaten and laughed at. She was relieved there were no marks on her face or upper body, the bruises were reserved for her bottom half, as a result she was able to hide these from her family when she returned home. Why did she feel only shame and felt as if it were all her fault, is a question she never understood.
Once the cat was out of the bag, we had each been reported to the office to convey and defend our own stories. I felt immense shame that I had fought back for myself as in my mind I knew I had done something wrong yet still couldn’t figure out what that was.
The school called the police, social workers and the priest in to talk to each of us. She didn’t remember any of it except knew that being beaten was a very serious issue.
All the parents were called in to meet while we waited anxiously to hear the results. Several meetings had occurred over time. She was unsure if her parents were more disappointed in her for not divulging her abuse over the last 3 weeks or them being disappointed that 3 boys were beating on their daughter for weeks, with only her to protect herself as no one to her defense.
In the end, after all the meetings and counselling, Cool boys 1, 2 and 3 were expelled from school.
In the lowest and loneliest of lows when girls should be learning stress-free, she fought to never be in a situation like this again. What seemed better from the outside was broken within. It was a valuable lesson that taught her to create and make her reality as she had none, she had a lonely one till she found her calling and created her own space. Art and stories had saved her during childhood as it did during that time. Art was what carried her forward, art and expression brought her to life and is what saved her. For the next year she asked her parents to enroll her in private art classes to improve her skills and worked toward applying for the Art High School she would eventually end up at in the visual arts program. Art always healed her and gave her a new perspective. Through turmoil she had found respite. She vowed from that day forward that truth, authenticity, creativity and expression would be her guiding force. She was reborn through Art. Life had forever changed from that point forward; never would she again align herself with what wasn’t true to her. Art School was her saving grace, the space that gave her new life, dreams and hope.
