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Cindi

In junior high, I had only had 3 people attempt to actually beat me up.  The first one was a boy who punched me in the face because he didn't like some glasses I was wearing.  The second was a boy in the locker room who punched me in the stomach.  I do not remember the reason why.  The third was a neighbor kid who tried to punch me in the face, but I dodged the blow and left.  The next day, he told me he was quite impressed by that.  I had started learning martial arts so I could defend myself and I believe that was just a reflex.  I had somebody attempt to punch me in the shoulder in highschool, but with my reflexes I blocked him and returned a counter punch in his shoulder.  It kind of surprised me, since I had never done that.  I have learned how to defend myself and have not let others push me around.  I remember one kid who always tried to scare me in elementary school, but I had grown some in junior high and he remained short.  He was scared of me and I enjoyed it.   I would chase him around, but never do anything mean.  I guess I had learned to toughen up and there were kids that tried to push me around and I was able to push right back.  Some of those kids became friends because they respected my ability to stand up for myself.  Unlike many other TS stories I hear, I was never one to be bullied.

Melissa

Yes, the Susan's Fest would me much better.   It would encourage people to come.

Melissa

Quote from: Melissa on July 20, 2006, 11:45:23 AM
Unlike many other TS stories I hear, I was never one to be bullied.

Me neither, at least not physically anyway - though I think being tall helped me to avoid it. I had my share of verbal abuse, though it was more from being odd, an outcast, than for being a "sissy" or whatnot. That always surprised me, as I constantly feared my emotional issues would make me seem gay somehow to everyone.

I got into only one fight in high school after a boy shoved me during a football game and I ended up going face-first into a mud puddle. I got up and shoved him back. He hit me. I *tried* to hit him, and felt so incredibly guilty just thinking about hurting someone's face, I just couldn't do it, lol. So I half-heartedly hit his chest a few times (figuring it was the least painful area).

He of course didn't share my reservations, and beat the crap outa me until I said, "enough! I give!" Bruised face, lip bleeding and swollen... not pretty.

And yet, that night after I got home, a half-dozen people who would never give me the time of day called me at home just to talk about it. The guy who beat me up was actually the most popular guy in my class, so somehow my standing up to him - even though I lost terribly - earned me some bizarre form of respect, lol.

Men! Never gonna understand 'em

Quote from: Kate on July 20, 2006, 01:05:40 PM
And yet, that night after I got home, a half-dozen people who would never give me the time of day called me at home just to talk about it. The guy who beat me up was actually the most popular guy in my class, so somehow my standing up to him - even though I lost terribly - earned me some bizarre form of respect, lol.

Exactly!  Standing up for yourself earns respect.  Sometimes it may seem easier to run away and hide, but in the long run, it will only make it harder.  On the other hand, if your life is in danger, living would be more valuable than being respected.

Melissa

Quote from: Melissa on July 20, 2006, 01:09:22 PM
Exactly!  Standing up for yourself earns respect.  Sometimes it may seem easier to run away and hide, but in the long run, it will only make it harder. 

LOL, are we still talking about fistfights? Or transitioning... ?

Both.

Melissa

Cindi

You told me my story--

Again...

How do you do it?

For a tumultuous 6 months in 5th grade, I got in a fight with every 'jock' in my grade school.  I found I could fight with a mad, yet controlled rage.  I did not fight for fun, but to punish.  When the rage happened, I had only one objective -- to do as much damage to my adversary-du-jour as I possibly could before I was pulled off him and sent to visit the principal (again,) or before I was thoroughly beaten by him.  I didn't fight like a boy, I fought like a mad thing...

I, too, left presents... "He gave you a fat lip!"  "But I beat him!"  "But he gave you a fat lip!"  "But I gave him a bloody nose..."  "But he gave you a FAT LIP!!!" -- ad nauseum.  I was to learn that cuts to their egos were the best lesson I could give.  The concensus was that, while never starting a fight, I 'won' more than half.

By the end of Junior High, they knew to leave me alone, as their egos WOULD suffer -- it was just better to pretend the pussy didn't exist.  When I started high school, the jocks from my junior high passed the word to leave the weird kid alone.  Then we moved to a new school district, and I was a bully-magnet again...  The only thing that saved me from doing it all over again was becoming a 'head' -- everybody was smoking pot, and if it was known you did, too, the jocks left you alone.

Life is weird, innit?

Karen

Re-reading the main story, I was struck by something.

Shawn had been beaten by his parent for crying in terror and misery at being yelled at for 'allowing' his coat to be stolen.  All too often a child's pleading for mercy only makes the beating worse.

Why is that?

What drives some adults to become enraged by a child's terrified crying? 

And why does the same sounds from a child break my heart?

Such behavior as Shawn endured from his parent shows the hypocracy of the term 'parental rights'...

Karen