I recently got a call from my aunt who was desperate for advice on how to deal with bullies. Turns out, my cousin was getting made fun of by other boys at his camp and she wanted him to learn how to defend himself. Of course, my aunt being the smart woman that she is, calls the smartest, sexiest, funniest person in the family, me. Over the phone, she explained what was happening and it reminded me of a dorky little 13-year-old girl who had recently moved to the United States and had to quickly learn how to deal with mean humans.
My move to America was a tragedy. What at first seemed like a dream to me now seemed like a total nightmare. I quickly saw the differences in culture and human behavior, big time. I had gone to Catholic school my whole life, and an all-girls one for seventh grade. Catholic school. Let me tell you something about Catholic school – it's weird, like, really weird. I wore a uniform my whole life. I don't think I had ever worn a skirt above my knees or shoes other than black, goth-looking, chunks of rubber. I had no idea what wearing makeup even was. My eyebrows had never been groomed and caring about my physical appearance had never really been a thing. I had dorky glasses and a massive overbite, which meant teeth with braces and other weird things. I was a disaster. Here's a picture in case you need a better visual.
I was really excited to finally be able to show off my inner style and wear my own clothes to school. The only problem was that I had absolutely no style at all. And other than my clothes being completely wrong for an eighth grade girl, my appearance didn't help at all. I was not aware that girls wore makeup to school and straightened their hair. On the first day of school my attempt at making friends turned into getting made fun of by the "cool" girls. Yes, "cool girls" in middle school are a thing. I remember sitting at a lunch table trying to speak English in my heavy Puerto Rican accent, only to have girls straight up laugh in my face. I got asked if I lived in a shack and if we drove on dirt roads, while they giggled and laughed at their obviously ignorant questions. They told me I should move to the back table because that's where all the "cool" people sat. I turned around and looked back at the table and saw a bunch of weirdos and quickly realized what they meant. They thought I was a straight up weirdo.
Well, let me tell you what this weirdo did. My great sarcasm has been my best friend since I was very young. I had watched bullies get to my sister before which helped me learn and decide that no person will ever bully me. I already knew I was different and I already knew I was weird, I simply just did not care. On the day of one of the girl's birthday, one of the "cool" girls who told me to sit in the back, I decided to be kind. I made her a birthday card that said:
"Dear Amy,
Happy Birthday! I hope you have a great day. Thank you for being so nice to me when I was new at school! I will always consider you one of my first friends!
Love,
Andrea"
Sarcasm at its finest. Amy read the card and said thank you while I looked at her with my now perfected soft smile. Here's the thing about my very kind birthday card, Amy had no idea that what the letter actually said was:
"Dear Amy,
I hope you have a horrible birthday. You are honestly so lame and have a really boring face. I don't like you at all and really don't think I ever will.
Hate,
Andrea"
My advice is to kill them with kindness, kiddo. And laugh at them years later when you're way better off.
