In 12th grade I was assigned an essay in English class in which I was supposed to decide if people acted differently in groups than they do individually. I, of course, took the position that people acted differently in groups and, more often than not, their behavior changes for the worst in groups. I thought about what I was going to write in that essay for about an hour beforehand, but I’ve thought about what I wrote everyday ever since.
I used the Nazis as an example of negative group behavior. Upon reflection, I realize that this example was cliché, over-used, and way more nuanced than I explained it to be. My reasoning was along the lines of “Nazis = bad” and “the holocaust = bad” which are both true, but there are deep psychological and nationalistic underpinnings of the Nazi regime which I was not equipped to write about in 12th grade.
Then my essay got dicey. My best friend since I was little confided in me the things that went on when the varsity boys’ lacrosse team got together. He told me things privately that he did not think I was going to share with my teacher or anyone else, but I used that information as an example of disgraceful group behavior in my essay.
To this day, I continue to defend my words about the stupid things that the boys’ lacrosse team did my senior year in high school. Specifically:
…when it comes to being respectful, multiple members of the Lacrosse team have harassed underclassman girls for associating themselves with certain upperclassman boys. Individually, the boys on the team are nice kids (for the most part), but when put together on the field or in the bleachers or at a party or in a group chat, the Haverford High School Boys Lacrosse Team continually lacks character when they are together.
But I paid the price for sharing my opinion on what I perceived as a continuing lack of character from boys in my school that I knew were smarter than they acted that spring.
My friend, who told me the information that I used in this essay, asked to read what I wrote and then shared it with his teammates in a group chat. From then on, my essay was referred to school-wide as “The Essay” and while I selfishly reveled in my new-found journalistic popularity, I was blind to what was to come.
I lost a lot of guy friends that spring including my best childhood friend. Because of "The Essay," my senior summer was a struggle for me socially. The group of boys that I had grown close to in my four years at school now took to insulting everything about me including my appearance and who I was dating over text message and social media. They included pictures and emojis. They turned their hurt pride into a full frontal attack on me, and I knew this because, guys, a girl will always know what you’re saying over text. I found solace in few girlfriends that summer that understood the point I was trying to make in my essay. They helped me stay true to what I believed and not hide from my moral compass, but I knew that I had created the storm in which I was living. I was sure to keep my self-pity in check and take responsibility for my actions.
So, years later I still ask myself, should I have told the truth or not? Was my sharing of information about a social- ill in my high school a mistake? Was it worth losing my friends and being ridiculed to this day?
I still grapple with the reality of this situation, but I now have a greater understanding to the saying, “the truth hurts." Not only did the reaction to my essay hurt me personally, but my words hurt a very close friend of mine, and I cannot seem to let that one go.
