Wednesday 2 March 2016

Ugly in High School

For a while now, I have been pondering on this topic  and I finally decided to blog on it, not simply because of my own personal experiences, but also my observations as a high school teacher for a few years.

I remember vividly, my very first day attending the St. Joseph's Convent, Kingstown. I was walking through Paul's Lot with my head down, when I heard someone said something to me. I looked up and saw a St. Martins Secondary School guy who was very tall and probably in Form 4 or 5. He was asking name and other questions. I looked at him, cast my eyes in the direction I was going and did not respond once. He talked until he got to the top of the hill and then he said bye. Even then, I said nothing.

Maybe he was disappointed. Maybe he questioned himself. Maybe he thought I was 'fresh', but I was shy, lack self-confidence and had a low self-esteem. In addition to that, and probably exacerbated by those very qualities, I had trust issues. He was a young man and was out for one thing. After all, what could he possibly see in me, a girl with thick, natural hair that for most parts carried two large cane rows, no pierced ear etc.

As I settled in high school with my friends, I realized that there were cliques. Whether knowingly or unknowingly, the have-nots had grouped themselves together, the brown skinned 'beauties' and 'haves' (rich) had also grouped themselves and the villagers, those persons who came from the same community, had grouped themselves together. I looked at the group who were involved in netball, had boyfriends, into dancing or singing etc and in my opinion, they were pretty. The only thing that stood out for me was my brain. I was doing well in school. Outside of that, no one knew me and probably would have never known me. My English was country-like; I spoke dialect which was looked down on because you were speaking 'bad', my dressing was poor, often times I was late for school, I can only afford the minimum with food and my skirt would not stay pleated no matter how hard my mother tried with the wet cloth and the iron that was heated on the stove. I didn't think I was pretty.

Source: Blackhairplanet.com


Did other guys approach me? Yes, but I compared them to that of my friends and I thought, how come the ugly ones are the ones who approached me, and the sexy, handsome looking ones approached them. I realized that sense of what was beautiful/handsome was defined by certain features and complexion. Still, even when I was approached by what I regarded as handsome, I thought, they just wanted to use, abuse, misuse and leave. In some ways, it helped because my antenna was always up.

I did not meet bullies in high school, but when I entered college, I remembered passing a guy who referred to me as 'Swan Princess' and I smiled, but one, out of a group of girls standing with him, was seemingly upset by the statement and did not hesitate to question where is the swan princess, while her friends laughed. I did not respond, but it was at that point I knew that bullies, women bullies, do exist and when grouped, can be intimidating. By then, I was a bit more confident, but not enough, not to be affected. After all, this is the same girl who was nicknamed and teased about many things including my blackness and my big eyes. They were in the latest brand, their skirts were short and that was deemed sexy, while my was knee length, some were cheer leaders and they had money; they drive in and out of the college yard, whether in their own cars or their friend's.

I encouraged myself that one day, I will get a job and would be able to buy myself nice things and look just as great or even better. I also took solace in the statement made by some of my friends that these girls were like ripe bananas being passed from hand to hand by a group of boys that called themselves "The conspirators". Whether it was true or not at that point, did not matter to me. I felt boosted and better than they were. They might have been pretty on the outside, but I had inner beauty.

When I began working, I was still a work in progress, but I looked at many of my students and I saw their low self worth. Many did not consider themselves to be beautiful. I realized then that the impact of this can be even more grievous because as soon as affection was shown by the opposite sex, they give in. Some got used as their names got caught up in 'sex'conversations about who sleep with whom, when and where. Even those that I found to be very beautiful did not defined themselves as such and with the abuse they were suffering, they were losing both their inner and outward beauty. I decided to use every opportunity to listen to them, encourage them and show them their worth. Something I still practice today. You are beautiful and will stay beautiful as long as you defined yourself as beautiful.

Throughout my life, I have used my negative situations to push me to be the best I can be. The very blackness and bold eyes that were ridiculed in my childhood, is what many Rastas admire. I am an Empress, an African, a strong Black, Beautiful Woman. Thank you my African brothers.

I look back at many whom I thought were handsome, they have destroyed their lives through alcoholism and drug abuse and have lost that beauty. I looked at the guys whom I thought were not as handsome and they, like myself, have grown. They are successful, well groomed and well built.

I have grown in confidence and worth by speaking to the woman in the mirror. I set my own standards and aimed for them. I am not beautiful like you, I am beautiful like me and what a darn beauty I am!






No comments:

Post a Comment