Lookism: What Am I Even Doing?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

* Warning: Mentions of rape and sexual assault*

My grandma would preach that it was in our humanity to help others. Our role on this earth was to help raise ourselves through others. According to her logic all the good deeds we've done in our youth would gather up then be brought down on us in the same weight as blessings for our futures.

She would reach down and grab me firmly by the shoulders, "And that's why you must help everyone else. Then one day, they'll do the same for you."

It's what she would tell me in Spanish. So I did what I was told. Despite my grandma saying I should find pleasure in reaching out to others it only tired me. Especially since no one would do the same for me. Not our neighbors, not my teachers, not my classmates, and not my family. My energy would be wasted on people who I knew overlooked my kindness.

I grew so tired but still, I tried. At some point I told myself, "Maybe I haven't gone through an ordeal harsh enough to receive the debt I was owed."

Once my harsh ordeal was laid on me I waited. My neighbors would give my parents dirty looks and wouldn't dare meet my eyes. My teachers would pull me aside and only offer me counseling which always pushed me to forgive. My classmates become weird around me, not knowing how to act, how to address me or what was right or wrong. Then my family...the people who should've helped me out the most, disregarded me and blamed me for what had happened.

Who knew that a ten-year-old girl had so much power over others? I never knew I was a manipulator. I never knew that I had been born filthy.

In eighth grade I had hoped all of that had been buried behind me. People sort of forgot through all the raging hormones floating in the hair and sloppy break ups between kids who didn't understand the meaning of "love". So when he approached me, I genuinely thought I'd make a new friend.

He treated me like everyone else in our class. We'd talk about how stupid school was. Did we think our English teacher was dating the 7th grade Math Instructor, or they liked each other? During lunch we'd swap our foods. He'd always bring me extra juice and I'd pack an extra sandwich.

I'm pretty sure there were signs hidden underneath his character. Like how he'd sometimes hint at knowing what happened to me during elementary. Or how he'd bring up sensitive topics only to see my reactions. Or that one time he came up behind me and grabbed me by the waist. It was just a joke, he said.

All of it was one big joke.

When I genuinely thought I had a chance at making a real friend.

One day, we went to the park. I say his friends gathered at the slide but I ignored it. How did I convince myself to keep walking back then? Did I tell myself they were only there by coincidence? Or maybe he wanted me to make more friends?

"So what does it feel like not to be a virgin anymore?"

Boys are disgusting.

"Come on, we're just curious."

Boys are vile.

But it's not just the boys. The next day his sister came up to me after gym in the locker rooms. I hadn't had the chance to change into my uniform yet so just came up to me, grabbed my shorts and tried to force them down. Thankfully my reflexes were much better then.

"Haha! Look, she's shy! We'd thought you'd be used to people pulling them down already. Guess, you still have some dignity in you."

Girls from the section heard what was happening and rushed up to them. In a matter of seconds a cat fight had broken out in the gym. People were fighting because my story had been twisted in such a nasty way and people gave themselves permission to pick sides. Would they feel disgusted or would they feel pity?