When I was at school I was teased and bullied for being different, not just because I was mixed race, but because I didn’t really fit in.
I wasn’t popular, I wasn’t really very clever, I never really knew where I should be in the general hierarchy… I was just this fuzzy haired mixed race kid… The weirdo with a squint who spent too much time looking at others, trying to figure them out.
They put my behaviour down to my background… Being fostered, not knowing much about my real family. Yet it was more complex than that… There was my anxiety, the deep thoughts and feelings… I was never far from the darker side of them.
Kids said things that hurt, without any thought of consequence, and now I’m older I’ve realised that doesn’t change.
Some people never truly grow up… That’s just the way it is. They don’t have the intelligence to treat people who are different to them as equal… Instead they see their differences as a threat.
I was told that I was a bad person because my mum couldn’t look after me. That I deserved to be bullied because black and mixed raced people were bad.
I believed them, like the bad dreams I had at night. I thought on many occasions I’d be better off dead, even my mind told me this.
BUT my family still loved me, so I knew deep down it couldn’t be true. You fight the hardest battles in your head. Trying to make sense of all the broken pieces. There were so many… It’s like trying to wind the tape back into a cassette with a pencil… Slow, tedious, and long winded… But worth it when you can play it again, and it all makes sense.
I know myself pretty well now… I’ve come to terms with my differences, and I embrace them, as I am who I am…
Sometimes I said things that I shouldn’t have… Retaliated in the wrong way to bullies in my past as well as my present. I guess with each day we learn, it’s our choice to I guess.
I hope I continue to learn… I hope I continue to fight.