Last night, Molly's friend Rachael was over and we were all catching up on Glee. Watching television with Molly and I is never a quiet event...it involves a constant commentary, frequent pausing to tell a story, and lots of laughter. Last night, Rachael started laughing halfway through and when questioned she just said, "You two are hilarious." Yes, I suppose we are. It must be why I enjoy spending time with her so much.
Last night's episode of Glee prompted me to tell the girls a story from my childhood. Something I had completely forgotten. I had gone to a Christian school and therefore didn't have school dances. But for our 8th grade graduation, one of the girls in our class decided to have a dance in her garage. Molly questioned how on earth we could have the entire 8th grade in someone's garage, until I reminded her that we went to a small school. That night was my first experience as a wallflower. I was so shy and self-conscious that I had never had a boyfriend and didn't have many friends. But I had gone to this dance anyway, knowing I was moving away in a few days and would never see any of these people again.
For some reason that night I decided to be brave, perhaps for one of the first times in my life. I don't know if it was because I was moving, because I felt stupid just standing there or because I finally wanted to see what it was like to be confident, but I decided to ask a boy to dance. I remember surveying the crowded garage and seeing my classmates dancing. There were clusters of people against the walls chatting and everyone seemed to be friendly and willing to dance with anyone. It was never going to get better than this.
I chose my target carefully. It couldn't be someone I had ever actually liked. I didn't want that rejection. I finally decided to ask a boy named Ben. I don't remember Ben's last name, I just have a vague memory of a tall skinny Asian boy. I don't remember much about him at all. But I remember what he said. That I remember very clearly.
I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. "Do you want to dance?" I said. He looked at his friends quickly and then very loudly said, "NO! I would never dance with you."
I don't remember how I got outside, but I do remember standing in a dark corner of the backyard for the rest of the night - which was probably hours...crying. I don't know if anyone had even talked to me all night at that dance. I don't recall it. No one came to my rescue, consoled me...even acknowledged I was there.
I have no idea how Ben felt about what happened. Whether he made fun of me with his friends, never thought of it again...felt badly afterwards. But I do know that that experienced marked me very deeply. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened, sadly. But for some reason it stands out as the culmination of my childhood. I was the outsider...for reasons I could never understand. And I had a choice in that moment. I could choose to live my life as the sad little wallflower who no one wanted. Or I could choose to see the truth.
The truth was that teenage boys are sometimes mean...for many reasons. Perhaps he didn't know how to dance, liked another girl, had a bad day, didn't like me...whatever. It didn't mean that there was something wrong with me. And sometimes I wish I had chosen to see the truth. How different my life would be today. But sadly, I struggled with my self worth for many years afterwards and lost a lot of opportunities because of it.
There is nothing I can do about that really. But what I can do is try to teach my daughter to be proud of who she is, to be kind to others and to love herself. When I see glimpses of those traits in her, it heals some of those broken remnants of my childhood in some small way.
