Even though we were economically poor, I was happy and eager to enter my first year of junior high school. I was blooming! I had friends at school and friends in the neighborhood. My best friend BB invited me to go with her to a girl’s summer camp for vacation Bible school. The camp was for girls in junior high school or entering junior high. We previously attended vacation Bible school during the summer at the local church and knew most of the girls. Other than spending overnight at Momma’s house, I had never spent the night away from home. The camp was for a week, and I knew I had to convince MaDear to let me go.
MaDear and BB’s mother were good friends, and the camp was church related so I knew I had a chance of going. BB was a year older and a grade higher than me. Her birthday was early in the year, and she had turned thirteen. Since my birthday was not until the fall, I was still eleven years old. The church sponsors and chaperones were trustworthy, so MaDear let me go. We met at the small local church, loaded on the school bus and laughed and giggled with excitement all the way to our campsite.
When we got to the camp site, there were girls from other towns that we didn’t know. We were all black and from different backgrounds. The church sponsored chaperones and camp counselors assigned cabins based on age. Eleven and twelve year olds shared cabins and thirteen years and older shared cabins. I was in a cabin separate from BB, but we saw each other during class and at meal time. The first day went off without a hitch. Since I liked being outdoors, I was adjusting to camping and making new friends from other communities and schools.
Around mid- week, I was looking for BB and entered a cabin for the thirteen and over girls. I went to the wrong room. There were three bigger girls in the room. They appeared older than the rest of us. The biggest girl glared from her top bunk at me and asked why I was in their room. The two other girls were sitting in chairs near the bottom bunk. Her glare scared me. As bravely as I could, I told them I was looking for BB. She glanced at the other girls, smiled and then glared back at me. I knew I had walked in a danger zone.
This bullying episode happened almost fifty years ago but I remember it vividly. I didn’t like the humiliation, fear, or rage. When I was bullied, I did not exchange words with the bully. I didn’t know it at the time, but this could have led to heated exchanges or a fight. It is a natural response to try to react to hurtful words. To think with a clear head, I had to control my own fear and anger. I didn’t like being bullied and vowed to never bully anyone.
Read more in my memoir. It’s available for purchase in the book section of this blog.
I was never bullied again but racism, discrimination, classism, and colorism continued on my journey with me. Sexism decided to take a ride also. On my journey to adulthood, I had to learn to face and confront these giants without fear. I couldn’t allow a poverty mentality to make me believe I was a victim of other people’s decisions and choices.