I watched in horror as the girl in front of me, my teammate, mimic the girl sitting next to her who was also our teammate. Her eyes rolled at her friends and she clearly was making fun of the girl dancing by herself.
This moment, although it happened years ago, is engrained in my head. It was a figure skating team competition and all of us representing Los Angeles found ourselves in Ann Arbor, Michigan. There were cliques, of course, as with any group of young teenage girls. You had your quiet and caused no trouble folks (this was me), the goofy ones, the talented ones, the popular crowd, and the people the popular crowed deemed as outcasts. But even with these cliques, we all worked together extremely well and to me, it seemed like everyone got along with each other. This notion I had however would soon burst like a bubble.
I remember getting out of our rented car and smelling the crisp morning Michigan air. We all filed into the ice rink half asleep and went to get our hair and makeup done. After copious amounts of glitter were placed in my eye and my costume was adorned we all filed into a single line. Before our performance in front of hundreds of people all over the United States, we found ourselves crammed in a musty locker room in the basement of Yost Ice Arena where our coach commenced to give us a small motivational speech. As my coach turned on the music, one of the girls broke into a small dance on her own. Her dancing was not that of a pro but it was freeing to watch her move without a care in the world and for a second, the butterflies of nervousness in my stomach were placed with sounds of laughter.
I watched in horror as the bully moved her body in exaggerated body rolls, shimmied her shoulders, and proceeded to roll her eyes to the two girls in front of her. They exploded with laughter, tears in their eyes and teeth flashing white in the poorly lit room. No one seemed to notice this as their laughter was drowned out by the sound of the music blaring through the speakers. Even the girl who was the target of their mockery continued with her dancing, oblivious to the horrible actions of the girls around her. This was supposed to be our pep talk moment, the music was meant to be our rally cry before we would compete together as a team, all twenty-something of us. The instant jubilation I had felt moments prior disappeared like a fleeting bird, fast escaping the room without air. I snuck a glance to one of my closest friends on the team and from her concerned expression, she too had noticed. The sick feeling in my stomach never left and even after the music was turned off, the dancing was stopped, I still felt the guilt of not saying anything. I turned over to the target of the bullying and she caught my glance and sent me a warm smile that twisted my stomach even more. I didn’t say anything to her as a left nor did I say anything to the laughing girls when we all had dinner together. We all went on with our lives, no words were exchanged about what happened that day.
Call me sheltered, but I live in a suburbia bubble. Literally, the area I grew up in was called “The Bubble”. The elementary schools reinforced year after year a strict zero-tolerance policy and it seemed that the idea of “NO BULLYING” had been forced on me repeatedly since the first day I entered school. The closest thing I had ever experienced to bullying was gossip, probably the most used form and can even be the most hurtful, but even then, these were small incidents that seem to quickly bubble up, pop, and slowly dissipate from our minds within a week. High school and on I began hearing stories of people on my team who made secret Instagrams poke fun at others or others who were physically hurt by getting pushed or tripped.
But the thing that bothers me most is that these girls, even the ones who laughed at the dancing, are nice overall, and you can’t really hate them. They are generally good people who will support you in competitions and hug you when you’re leaving and laugh with you through all the memories you have together and comfort you when you’re sad. It’s mind-boggling to me to see this duality in action but I guess we all hide our own insecurities, our desires to fit in behind a wall. As I come to reflect on this year, I have realized I’m guilty too of hiding behind a mask, of letting others define who I am. But I guess that’s part of our society today; to blend, mesh and mold until we’re fully assimilated.
