These five stories were submitted by Paly students as part of the Not In Our School event this week. The stories describe times when the author experienced some sort of discrimination or harrasment. The authors’ names have been witheld at the request of the event organizers.

Spirit Week Homophobia

This year during Spirit Week, I was on the quad for a lunchtime rally. Suddenly, the seniors began chanting, “Brokeback Mountain!” to taunt the sophomores who were dressed up as cowboys and cowgirls. I’m gay, and to see my senior class try to insult the sophomores by calling them gay was shocking and painful. I brought up a complaint, and everyone was lectured on “good sportsmanship” the next day. But I don’t think most people realized they had hurt me and offended many of my classmates.

Transition to Pride

At middle school dances, I always wanted to let loose and be fee to dance and have fun and be sexy just like the other girls. Whenever I let myself BE me, boys would yell angry words at me, indicating that I wasn’t like the other girls. They were too scared to let me be myself, and I was too scared to stand up to them.

I was the girl that looked like a boy and that everyone thought was a boy. I was the girl with short hair, a flat chest, and narrow hips.

Then, I met people who are just like me. I’m no longer alone. I have friends who aren’t boys or girls. I have friends who are both. I renovated my look and now I do what I want. I embody no other word than this one: fabulous!

I’m Not a Dumb Blonde

What is a prejudice? Whom does it affect? Everyone, everywhere. As one philosopher put it, “Prejudices are what fools use for reason” (Voltaire). Prejudices are all around us, judging people and things without knowing who or what they are. Just one prejudice or opinion could scar a person for life. Having blond hair, I see prejudices made about me too often. Student, teachers, and friends make assumptions about me without knowing me. Because I am blonde, does not mean I am a spaz, poor student, or shopaholic. The prejudices formed toward me have usually disappeared over time; no longer do I let them affect me. During the Not in Our School week let’s stop and erase the years of opinions we have made and look freshly upon the people around us.

Anti-integration

As I’ve gotten older, I have formed my own opinion and my own sense of integrity about racism. I never really thought it would affect me in any big way, and I never thought that I had experienced it. I would tell people that I thought it was wrong, and that I counted myself lucky for having a lack of it in my life. That was until the day that my dad told me something I didn’t remember.

When I was in pre-school, my best friend was African-American. I didn’t even notice the difference between us because other than the color of our skin, Blaire and I were a lot alike. After pre-school, our parents kept in touch even though we both moved away. By coincidence I ended up visiting where she lived for my aunt’s wedding, and our parents arranged for all of us to have dinner one night. We were all very excited.

I remember getting to the restaurant, and I can remember us waiting forever just to get a table. Back then all I could think about was that I was with my best friend and that whatever we did we’d have fun. I remember seeing a look of disappointment on Blaire’s father’s face and my father’s look of distorted rage.

When I was about twelve I found out that the reason it took so long to get a table was not because they didn’t serve food to African-American people, it was because a family of white people and a family of black people were having dinner together. My parents were so angry that they canceled the reservation, and we went to have dinner somewhere else.

When my dad told me this I was shocked because I was used to thinking that I’d never been affected by racism. It hit me like a rock that something like that could happen, and I did not know about it. I know that if I were in my parents’ position I wouldn’t have told me what really happened, but I am definitely glad that I know the truth. Now I can say that I’m not just some little white girl who has feelings about something. Now I am the person who sat by oblivious to her surroundings, and I know that I will never just sit there again. I want to know what is really going on, and I want to do something about it.

Fatty

When I was young, I lived in a middle-class neighborhood with people who didn’t look like me, but I thought they were like me. I used to walk home alone from the bus stop, which wasn’t a far distance, but it was a scary stretch. The only reason I was afraid was because of some mean boys who lived in my neighborhood.

Here was I, a young girl minding her way home. Suddenly, I felt something hit me. “What was that?” I asked myself. I shrugged it off, figuring it was something carried in the wind, but it happened again. This time I turned around to see those ugly boys laughing at me. They pointed. They threw rocks. They called me “fatty.”

What did I do to deserve such hate and intolerance? I was a young girl who didn’t fit the thin stereotype. I was fat. So what? Does that make me any less of a human being? Unfortunately, in this culture, the answer to that question is “yes.”

My entire life I’ve struggled with my body image. On the TV, the “fat kid” was always the comedy relief. The “pretty people” never looked like me. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt.” Right? Wrong! Don’t we know that despite how formidable our facades may be, words hurt very much? Then why do we inflict such pain on others?

Did I ever tell anyone? No. “Why?” you might ask. I was ashamed. Wouldn’t you be? Whether you are or were like me, or whether you are or were like those boys, stop and ask yourself, “Why do we treat each other with such disdain and intolerance? Why can’t we simply accept each other as individuals who have so much to offer if we just take the time to listen? Why can’t we respect our differences and embrace them rather than shun those who ‘don’t fit the mold’?”

Let my pain be a lesson. Please don’t reject others just because of body size. We all have our own internal battles that no one sees, and the only way we all can survive these struggles is to support each other with love, peace, and understanding.