I realized that I haven't written a post in a while, and that's mostly because I've been drowning in school work. I haven’t stopped watching movies— That’ll never happen. Duh.
I didn’t stop writing reviews either. I started writing reviews for quite a few movies, in fact. (Thattathin Marayathu, Master, Jallikattu, Solo Brathuke So Better, Kappela, and the list goes on). I just haven’t gotten to the point where it’s actual short paragraphs. It’s more of random blabbering and bullet points that make sense to only me. (Everyone has that really confusing, gibberish language that they sometimes think in, right? I know it’s not just me... I happen to sometimes randomly think in English and Telugu gibberish for no reason.)
So I figured it’s just easier to put out a post about one of my own stories instead of trying to sit down and word some gibberish into actual English, with length and *some* amount of depth. So here’s a story that’s actually kind of relevant to current events.
I was in fourth grade. Our class was having a bathroom break after lunch, as we usually did. I was just standing in the hallway, holding my lunchbox, waiting to go home. Then, one kid walks out of the bathroom and says to me, “Your skin is the color of poop.” I said “ok great” in that nice, sarcastic tone because I didn’t wanna argue with him. I was tired, and arguing with that kid didn’t seem beneficial to anyone.
He left to go talk with his friends after that. I continued to stand there. I didn’t think about telling the teacher about it. In fact, I didn’t even think about telling anyone. I let it go instantly, and I didn’t let it affect me. All I thought about was, “If he thought about poop first thing after coming out of the bathroom, he must’ve had quite the lunch today.” I don’t think we were really educated enough back then, in my innocent fourth grade class, about racism, teasing, and all that stuff. What we were taught was: If a bully is bullying you, say “No!” Or simply ignore it and go tell a trusted adult. The examples of unkind behavior (including, but not limited to, bullying) weren’t even all that great, and we just began to think of hatefulness as a joke we could brush off like a speck of dust.
There was a group of girls standing next to me that day. They were the group to listen in on everyone’s conversations, and usually, I would really prefer they didn’t eavesdrop, but I was thankful that they overheard what happened that day. One of the girls came up to me and said, “That was so mean of him! You should go tell the teacher!” Another girl followed her and showed her support— that I should go tell the teacher. I brushed it off and said that it was fine. They didn’t waste a single minute trying to convince me after that— They went and told the teacher themselves.
I’m still quite grateful now that those girls stood up for me back then, even though we barely knew each other. They taught me that you should stand up for yourself in the right situations. I was always that kid that helped someone else in class and stood up for them. I was also that kid that told the teacher about small things, like “So-and-so isn’t following the rules!” But only then, when someone had made fun of my skin color, did I realize that standing up for yourself more important than telling the teacher that a student is making a mess in the back of the class. It seems like common sense to know these kinds of things, but as a fourth grader at that time, it really wasn’t common knowledge.
That kid was sent to the principal’s office immediately, and later, they called me as well. What I was told to do seemed a bit odd to me. The principal said that the kid was going to say sorry, but I wasn’t allowed to say that it was ok, because what he did wasn’t ok. At the time, I didn’t know what else to say, but now, I can think of a billion things to say besides a simple “it’s ok.” I remember saying “it’s ok” a few times because I was at a lack for words. The principal kept having the kid say sorry just so that I could bring together a decent string of words that partially forgave him and told him not to repeat it. I’m not sure completely sure what I said at the time, but I believe it was something along the lines of “Don’t do it again.” It wasn’t great, but it sure was better than a tiny, useless “it’s ok.”
This day is still something that I remember quite often, even at the most random of times. Every time I say sorry to someone (or when someone says sorry to me), I remember this incident. I’m still at a loss of words now when someone says sorry to me because most of the time, what they did would not be okay. But the only words that would come out of my mouth would be “it’s ok” because that’s what we are trained to say since we were little. Even when I say sorry to someone, they say that it’s fine, but inside, I know that it quite CLEARLY wasn’t fine. It’s not that easy to tell someone that what you did was wrong and that they shouldn’t be saying “it’s fine,” but should also say “Don’t do it again,” “Be more careful next time,” or something else that makes more SENSE.
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