A Look Into My Past

I remember back in 3^rd grade when my mom bought me Elmo sneakers. They were white with a picture of some of the characters on Sesame Street. Most notable on the sneakers were the ABC letters that were ostentatiously displayed on the center of the shoes. They were the bane of my existence. Despite the good intentions my mom had, I could not escape the scathing remarks from the kids at my school.

“Are you a baby?”

“Why are you wearing those childish shoes?”

I would always say at night, "'Please make me disappear'" (Morrison 45). It was not just the shoes that people made fun of me for. It was the “football shaped head,” scrawny body, bowl cut hair, small eyes… My body would slowly coil into a ball, trying to allow “the little parts of [my] body [to fade] away” (Morrison 45); however, my deficiencies would always be revealed to the world, allowing the criticism to attack me. My mom did not understand what I went through, and I was forced to continue to wear the ugly sneakers.

The next day, I covered Elmo with white duct tape and went to school. Nevertheless, the kids made fun of my shoes. At recess, they threw mud at them, staining them black. The dark deficiencies would always cover me completely, defining who I was wherever I went. No matter what I wished for, no matter how hard I dreamed for a different life, I would always remain in the same body, waiting for ridicule. Why did I have to suffer through this while others happily enjoyed their lives?

I absolutely hated PE class. When we played kickball, I would always be left with a useless role like covering a base that someone else was already covering. My scrawny body could never help the team. My bowl cut hair would be flowing through the wind. I remember one time when a kid purposely pushed me to the ground, covering my completely in dirt. The teacher would always believe that it was an accident. After that, I always found an excuse to avoid the class. I would ask my homeroom teacher to allow me to stay in class. Sometimes I would even act like I was completely confused on what we were learning, just to avoid PE.

During the EOGs (End of Grade Assessment Exam), we had a bathroom break. Some of the boys decided to throw wet paper towels at people. The assistant principal came and stopped them. Then, he took the people into our classroom and asked them who else was involved. Out all the people in my classroom, I was named. I never understood why the assistant principal believed that they would tell the truth. I felt like the world was directly targeting me; I had to apologize without even being given the chance to argue my case. The world that was covered in a white facade was slowly being revealed in front of my face.

I continued going to school, hating every bit of it—except for my elective, reading, and math classes. Those were the only places where I could escape. This is what forced me to work hard at school. It was not the pressure from my parents, but from the bullies at my school. If I succeeded in my school work, my intelligence would cover my deficiencies that people made fun of me for. However, inside I still yearned to be like the idolized students at my school. I beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. The harder I tried to achieve my goals, the farther the goals seemed to move away from me.

Now, 8 years later and 706.8 miles away from this event, I am stilled affected by it. I still have the “football shaped head,” scrawny body, small eyes… I still try my hardest at school to make myself unique and cover my ugliness. However, I feel like I have become more accepting of myself. If someone criticizes me, I will not be stopped by their words. My individuality is not defined by what other people have to say. I will continue to study as hard as I can, forgetting my want to change my physical traits. I will never trap myself in the dark period that defines my past.

Despite my acceptance for who I am, Pecola is still stuck looking at her deficiencies, allowing her desire for blue eyes to consume her. She has never experienced anything different or found herself appreciated. I was only able to move on because I found refuge with academics. Pecola, on the other hand, is completely shunned by society, making her believe that she is not worthy of anything. Without discovering oneself, people can quickly become disillusioned with society; they are put in a cycle of abuse, unable to move on from their self-loathing.