News and Events => Opinions & Editorials => Topic started by: Shana A on January 14, 2012, 05:14:36 PM Return to Full Version
Title: The Man of the House
Post by: Shana A on January 14, 2012, 05:14:36 PM
Post by: Shana A on January 14, 2012, 05:14:36 PM
Alexandra Billings
Actress, singer, author, teacher and activist
The Man of the House
Posted: 1/13/12 06:07 PM ET
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alexandra-billings/the-man-of-the-house_b_1202776.html (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alexandra-billings/the-man-of-the-house_b_1202776.html)
Back in the late '60s, bullying wasn't called "bullying"; it was called "growing up." I remember going to the principal of my junior high school and trying to explain my situation the best I could. I didn't really understand why I wanted to be around the girls, why I needed to have female company, why learning to cook and draw and paint and sing and dance around the cafeteria was preferable to holding a saw, chopping, climbing, throwing large rocks at things or figuring out a hammer. I didn't have any answers; all I knew was what I felt.
"This is all part of growing up," he said to me from across his desk.
"But why does everyone hate me so much?"
"No one hates you. You're exaggerating," he said, never looking up from his pile of papers.
"The boys threw food at me yesterday and pushed me down the stairs and called me a '->-bleeped-<-got.'"
"Then stop acting like one."
Actress, singer, author, teacher and activist
The Man of the House
Posted: 1/13/12 06:07 PM ET
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alexandra-billings/the-man-of-the-house_b_1202776.html (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/alexandra-billings/the-man-of-the-house_b_1202776.html)
Back in the late '60s, bullying wasn't called "bullying"; it was called "growing up." I remember going to the principal of my junior high school and trying to explain my situation the best I could. I didn't really understand why I wanted to be around the girls, why I needed to have female company, why learning to cook and draw and paint and sing and dance around the cafeteria was preferable to holding a saw, chopping, climbing, throwing large rocks at things or figuring out a hammer. I didn't have any answers; all I knew was what I felt.
"This is all part of growing up," he said to me from across his desk.
"But why does everyone hate me so much?"
"No one hates you. You're exaggerating," he said, never looking up from his pile of papers.
"The boys threw food at me yesterday and pushed me down the stairs and called me a '->-bleeped-<-got.'"
"Then stop acting like one."