I didn’t wear shorts between the ages of sometime around 8 and sometime around 30.
Why not? Because I couldn’t. Every time I wore them as a kid, I got teased. “I’m blinded!” some would say. “There’s a ghost in here!” I heard a lot.
My skin is pale. Really pale. I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone more pale than me, even other red-headed, freckled kids. And I got teased a lot. For being so white.
I got teased a lot for being white.
Pardon my French, but how fucked up is that? I’ve heard of racism, I knew it existed, and I’m not quite sure if this makes me a victim but I do know it’s pretty strange. I got teased for being white by other white people.
In my 20s, despite a slight initial fear of being teased, I started wearing dresses. Without pantyhose. So my legs showed a lot. And I realized something odd about myself – I actually like my legs. This was odd because my legs were always the thing I thought I was supposed to cover up.
But shorts was a whole other thing. They somehow felt different to me. Like people with white legs are not supposed to wear shorts.
The thought of shorts gave me flashbacks to third grade Field Day. The One Day of the year we were all allowed to wear shorts to school. The One Day the dress code did not protect me. My mom excitedly helped me pick out my outfit the night before field day. I was too embarrassed even to tell her of the absolute certainty that I would be teased.
Why not just wear pants? Because then I would be teased for wearing pants on shorts day. I couldn’t win.
The next morning, I woke up to a miracle. I had the chicken pox! I got the chicken pox on Field Day which meant I didn’t have to wear shorts! I was secretly elated, although I pretended to be bummed to miss the most fun day of the year.
(Two weeks later I stood outside my classroom and cried because my mom was going to make me go in there because I was no longer contagious, and I was certain I’d be teased for my chicken pox scabs. Sometimes, you can’t win.)
The thought of shorts gave me flashbacks to high school and college, where my friends would complain that their legs were not shorts-ready because they didn’t have a summer tan yet.
Ladies and gentlemen, these legs of mine do not get tan. Trust me, I have tried. I tried when I was 12 and got sunburned so badly my legs looked almost purple. I do not tan. So if tanned legs are a requirement for shorts, well, then I couldn’t wear shorts.
So I didn’t.
As I got older, the general comments about my skin color stopped bothering me. The “oh my gosh you’re so white” didn’t feel so much like an insult anymore. And truthfully, I am so white.
And I realized something: Some guys even like really white skin. Which is pretty cool, if you ask me.
And then I didn’t even notice my skin color until someone would mention it, and it was usually mentioned adoringly, and it became something that didn’t bother me at all.
But I still didn’t wear shorts.
Until two years ago. I was shopping alone, at Express, and I had an epiphany in the store that if I liked dresses, well, then I was allowed to like shorts as well. So I tried on a pair. I loved them. I tried on another pair. I loved them too. I bought them both and I wear them all the time. One of the pairs kicked the bucket a couple of months ago – I wore them out.
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But this post isn’t about my legs, and it isn’t about shorts. It’s about being a kid, and it’s about other kids being cruel, and it’s about feeling so alone because you’re being teased about something you can’t change (and likely, shouldn’t want to! I’d look really weird with a tan, people.)
I thought of my white legs when I read Jim’s blog post about growing up Asian in the U.S., and that’s when it occurred to me that I had been teased by my own race simply for being a slightly different shade. Others had it so much worse than I did.
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When I first met Anil he kept asking if I knew he was “brown.” I thought he was joking, so I asked if he knew I was “as white as a ghost.” And then I realized he was asking me for real. Because sometimes people don’t want to be his friend if they find out he is Indian and not just really tan. So he wants to make sure those people know up front so they can choose to walk away.
I cried when I realized his questions to me were not a joke. I cried when I read Jim’s blog. And I realized me being teased for my white legs is really nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Jim emailed this to me last week, as we talked about his blog post: “Actually, what I totally didn’t expect was that so many people identified with it, not because they were Asian, but because they were nerdy, or overweight, or black, and yes, even white. When you’re a kid, it doesn’t matter what you’re being teased for. All you understand is the emotion of feeling left out.”
So, what about you? What were you teased about and is the adult you still waiting to be humiliated for what the child you dreaded?
Jim’s middle name is Ching-Kuo. And Anil is Indian. And I wear shorts.
Comments
9 responses to “What’s your kryptonite?”
I was 6 feet tall by the time I was 13, and I stopped being skinny around 4th grade. Oh, and I had braces, and I played the cello. Guess how popular I was.
It’s funny; white people spend a whole lot of time trying to get a tan or “some color” while people of color (like me)spend a lot of time wishing they were white. 🙂
I was always teased for the company I kept. And sadly, I sometimes still am. My parents raised me to treat everyone as I wanted to be treated, and I always have. I didn’t care who they were or what their parents had or didn’t have, or what they looked like or who else their friends were. And people at school who never had anyone to be nice to them always had me to count on, and still do. I love everyone until they give me a reason not to, and race is always beside the point. I didn’t really fit in anywhere specific, but could fit in anywhere I wanted — and in retrospect, I guess it was more of a resentment issue as to why I got teased. Most everyone else only had one place they could fit in, but they appeared to me to like it that way, and I never thought anything of it until recent years.
I treat all of my students this way, too, and I can tell that they appreciate it — especially some of them, who for various reasons quite obviously just don’t fit in anywhere. Middle school was always the hardest for me, and I really empathize with my students in this regard.
I treat everyone as a human being, always, and it’s sad that I can’t expect the same treatment from the rest of the world.
Thank you and Bravo, Melissa! More so than any skill they can teach you in school, I think that self-esteem is the most important thing we can teach our children. If you can’t spell, well, you’ll get there eventually. If you can’t do your times tables, you’ll get there eventually. If you have no self esteem… well, it might plague you for the rest of your life. I know my childhood experiences have influenced my actions to this day. Maybe not in any obvious way, but I know it’s there.
Also, you have really nice legs 🙂
Also, random cultural fact: did you know that in east Asia, pale skin is actually revered?
Isn’t it amazing what memories stick so vividly in your mind? One of the worst parts is the person who said it, or done it, probably doesn’t have the slightest memory of it at all. I will never forget how embarrassed I was when one day in middle school we were walking from recess to lunch and I accidentally stepped on the back of this boy’s shoes, name omitted even though I know exactly who it was. He turned around in front of everyone and said, “You need to watch what you’re doing, my one shoe probably cost more than both of yours together.” I never felt like I didn’t have money. I never felt as if I lacked anything. My parents were, and still are, amazing. I am so thankful every day for what they have instilled in me; my morals and my values. I never wanted to be in that uppity crowd, and I never remember feeling as if I was missing something because I wasn’t. To this day, I’m actually thankful that I wasn’t. I know where I am today is because of who I was then, and I know that one sad day, life will slap them in the face, unless their mom and dad continue to bail them out forever. I struggle already with the decision of how to raise the children I don’t even have yet. You want your child to have the best and to not be picked on, but more than that, you want them to have good values. There is a way to have both. It’s just a fine line you have to continue to work on!
I was also teased, mostly in middle school, for being super skinny, especially in my legs. I also never wore shorts. Then there was a fourwheeler accident that left me with knee scars. I recently started wearing shorts again at age 29 (about 6 months ago) and I am so proud of my ‘thick’ legs, battle scars, and stretch marks. They make me who I am today.
You’ll be able to use this again, maybe as “Chapter 5” of your memoirs/book. Too detailed to be “Prologue”, not detailed enough for “Chapter 1”. 🙂
I don’t recall anything specific that I got called out for as a kid. Not that I didn’t have my share of anxieties or neuroses, but I think I did an okay job of “crossing over” into different groups enough. Social chameleon.
Your legs are hot, btw. 😉
Like you I do not tan. Thus I have always been teased about being too pale, especially during the summer months. That maybe what initially began my “shorts-phobia” but it’s certainly not what has perpetuated it. I simply hate my knees. Yup… weird thing. I just think they look silly. To this day I can only bring myself to wear bermuda shorts.