Stop || A Domestic Violence Story

Chapter Seven: White Ribbon

Kids who are bullied have a hard time standing up for themselves. They think the kid who bullies them is more powerful than they are.

~
 
I'll never forget the first day of school.

I was eight years old and entering the third grade, mid-way through the year. My hair was in one puff with a white ribbon tied around it to match my school uniform and I was so happy to actually go to school.

I had walked into the bustling class and stood to the front to introduce myself, just as the teacher instructed me.

I remember feeling really confused, because there was nobody that looked like me. The vast majority of the class was white while there was maybe four black kids, yet all four was light skinned.

I stood out like a sore thumb

Everyone stared at me, a couple of kids were whispering to each other and I remember one kid motioning to her hair as she talked to her friend.

Every student in the class had long straight or wavy hair. I remember thinking it was so pretty.

My teacher motioned for me to speak and the expressive child I once was came out as I told everyone who I was.

Everything seemed better and some kids smiled, but my teacher pushed me down a hole I could never get out of.

"It's uncommon for us to have students of other countries attend our school. If you don't mind, could you tell us about your country? I'm sure everyone wants to know more about it!"

All side conversations stopped in an instant as everyone turned to me.

I didn't understand what she was saying, "Ma'am?".

Some of the kids began to snicker.

The teacher smiled and began to speak to me slowly as if I was a foreigner, "Describe your country."

More kids joined in on the snickering. I started to chuckle, acting as if I understood the joke.

A kid suddenly yelled aloud, "You're a lion hunter!" And the entire class erupted with laughter.

The teacher snapped, "Angel Lewis! You apologize right now!". Angel shrugged, "I'm not apologizing to an orphan." Then she whispered to a light skinned boy with short curly hair, "I bet her parents sold her for a bucket of water." She said it loud enough for everyone hear making the class laugh harder.

The boy rolled his eyes, unamused by her comment.

I looked to the teacher for reassurance on the situation but  she had turned a bright red and started twiddling her fingers, "You can sit down now Jasmine.".

I quickly took my seat at the back of the classroom, next to the unamused boy, which one one desk away from Angel.

For the entire class I was confused about what had just happened.

What does a lion hunter mean?

I scribbled in my notebook, drawing monkeys swinging from trees to try and get my mind off the whole situation.

Soon enough the bell rang for recess making me jump. I accidentally knocked over my pencil pouch, spilling all its contents on the floor.