High School Crush, High School Bullies
A nonbinary person recalls the painful experience of coming out in high school, where bullying was rampant. They share their emotional journey through the pain of rejection but also the beauty of finding inner strength and love despite adversity.
The bullying didn’t stop completely, but something had changed. The people who had once tried to tear me down no longer held power over me. Their hate was loud, but my love—for myself and for others—was louder. I found strength in the person I had become. I wasn’t afraid to stand out anymore, because standing out was exactly what made me, me.
High school should be a period of development, self-discovery, and lifelong friendships-building time. Still, it seemed to me like a battlefield. I had always understood I did not fit inside the clean lines everyone else seemed to follow. Though the males and ladies they discussed never really made sense to me, my pals would gush about their infatuation. My emotions were different. contradictory. And then arrived the crushing event that turned everything around.
I became enamored with someone in my class—someone who defied the expectations of society regarding labels. It felt terrible as well as joyful, and freeing. This was high school, where deviation from expectations was greeted with violence. Looking for understanding, I told a buddy. Rather, my secret traveled like wildfire.
The whispers started not too long later. The laughter behind my back and the sarcastic remarks whispered under my breath as I moved down the corridor. They referred to me as “Freak”. ” perplexed.” Neither the labels nor the reality that nobody stood up for me knew would hurt more. Teachers even paid no attention at all. Other than the times I was the target, I started to feel invisible.
Finding Myself in the Chaos
I started to doubt everything in the middle of it all. Who was I? Nonbinary: exactly what did that mean? In my little town, people did not use this word very often. I came across the word only while constantly browsing internet forums in search of a community that seemed like mine.
Still, knowing the word did not imply I felt natural with it right away. Everything was either “this” or “that,” and I had grown up in such an environment. Either boy or female. Blue, either pink or blue. But what about the middle ground? And then about me?
I withdrew more the more severe the bullying got. I stopped sitting with friends at lunch, stopped chatting in class, and spent much of my time attempting to avoid any circumstance that would make me a target. I started to slide in grades. My grin disappeared. Every other person’s expectations of who I should be gradually seemed to be erasing the person I was attempting to become, whatever that was.
But even in that darkness, a tiny bit of me resisted going completely under. One area that clung to the belief that perhaps, just maybe, I might define myself on my terms. That I was not obliged to be what everyone else wanted.
The Strength of Self-Love
One day I found myself staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror following a particularly violent episode whereby a bunch of children slammed me against a locker and called me ugly. My eyes reddened from stifling tears; my cheeks heated.
I glanced at myself for the first time in many years. looked closely. And I asked myself, a question I had been too afraid to ask: Do I love the person I am?
The response did not flow right away. Layers of guilt, fear, and hurt buried it. But I came to see something very important as I peered back into the mirror: I did not despise myself. Despite this, I was glad of the person I was developing. Yes, I was unique; however, that diversity had beauty. I also refused to allow anyone to take that away from me.
Love for oneself did not happen overnight. It arrived in waves, little acceptance moments that progressively laid a stronger basis. I began to spill my emotions into a journal page. I surrounded myself with online groups of people just like me who appreciated the successes and knew the challenges. I started gradually to see that my identity was something to treasure rather than something to hide.
Turning Pain into Power
My strength rose along with my self-love. I stopped stifling eye contact in the halls. I started dressing in attire that suited me rather than what others would have anticipated. I still had the whispers and bullying, but their comments didn’t hurt the way they used to. I had created a shield around me, one fashioned of love and acceptance for my own self.
I felt more strength the more I came to embrace my identity. I was regaining my space, not merely surviving high school now. Along with some other students who had personally struggled, I launched an LGBTQ+ support group. Though little, we were ferocious. We set up a forum where people may share their difficulties, form friendships, and most importantly, come to see they were not alone.
Although the bullying did not stop totally, something had changed. Those who had once sought to bring me down no longer controlled me. Their hate was loud; my love—for others and myself—was louder. I discovered power in the person I had evolved into. Standing out was exactly what made, me, so it wasn’t scary to stand out anymore.
Though I left with something far more valuable—the knowledge that no amount of hate could devaluate my worth—I graduated from high school with emotional and bodily wounds. I was proud, strong, and non-binary.
I also kept my head high as I gazed out into the throng at my graduation, knowing that some of the people who had most damaged me were seated there. Because I had acquired one of the most crucial insights of my life:
Love is always louder than hate.
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