I still have that autograph book. A picture of the front cover appears below (It says "Yearbook" on the cover even though it wasn't really a yearbook, per se.):

That's supposed to be me, I guess, sitting at a desk. (Note the antennae -- this was drawn during my "perhaps I'm really a space alien" phase.)
One thing that still fills me with incredulity when I look at it is the number of notes admonishing me for my lack of interest in New Kids On the Block (a popular boy band in the late 1980s and early 1990s):



Someone else (a boy who once smacked me in the head with a metal baseball bat and generally gave me a hard time whenever he had the chance) wrote, "HOPE YOU FALL AND BREAK YOUR FACE, GEEK".

That was disturbing, to be sure, but somehow I found the repeated disdain of my tastes (disguised in most cases as chirpy "suggestions") just as unnerving.
Other than those, I mostly got the generic "Have A Great Summer", though the school psychologist did write, "I hope to see a happier girl in September!"

So, why am I posting this? Well, there's been plenty in the news over the past few months about bulling, about inclusion (or lack thereof) for autistic children, and generally about the constant struggle between those who already benefit from the status quo and those who don't.
I've not had the words to comment on specific news stories (and plenty of people wrote about most of them, expressing what needs to be said more articulately than I would have) for some reason, but I have been paying attention. And every time I see something like, say, what happened to Alex Barton (an autistic kindergartener who was "voted out" of his class by his teacher and classmates), I can't help but wonder when people are going to wake up about bullying.
Mind you, I still stand by my blog title despite the continued presence of bullying -- existence IS wonderful, and that is not something any bully can take away from me or anyone else who has known joy. Fifth and sixth grade were awful in a lot of ways, but I have never in my life not loved life!
However, I did have a feeling sometimes that I now see as a sign of something very wrong in the world, something which still proliferates in schools and playgrounds and other places. And that is the feeling that one is somehow undeserving of life or joy even if one knows where and how to find it.
Mind you, I do not spend all my time dwelling on slights from nearly twenty years ago now, and I do not write this with bitterness right now -- but it is still important, I think, to bring this kind of thing up.
Some of the bullying I experienced growing up was blatant and obvious (being smacked in the head with a bat, being chased and pelted with sticks and rocks, having my hair pulled out, being hit by rulers, being flicked in the eye with handkerchiefs, etc.).
However, some of it was a lot less obvious, at least to outside observers. And one of the prevailing themes in the "less obvious" abuse seemed to be the relentless insinuation that I somehow brought everything I "got" upon myself simply by being who I was. Essentially, I was given "conditions" for evading harassment: if only I'd "get over Star Wars" (and start to like New Kids on the Block!), I would become more acceptable. If only I convinced my parents to buy expensive brand sneakers, I would not be picked on for my shoes (my K-mart hiking boots weren't exactly a fashion hit, even though I quite liked them myself and was not ashamed of them at all). If only I would use proper slang, and not sound like I "read the dictionary for fun". Etc. Etc. Etc.
The net result of all this was that I spent years being ashamed to exist. When I felt and took joy in things (particularly in things I'd been told were grounds for harassment by other kids, or "unhealthy" by adults, such as my Star Wars obsession), it was a furtive joy. It has actually only been since graduating from college, really, that I've come to reconnect with the kind of joy I knew before bullying, and before people started trying to mark out some of my strongest traits as pathological nuisances or character flaws.
Certainly, I did have some bad habits and areas that I did benefit from being helped in while growing up -- I am not unhappy, for instance, that I was taught how to do things like brush my hair and wash my face properly when I was in junior high. It was still wrong for people to bully me on the basis of my self-care difficulties, but I want to make it clear that I am by no means against assisting people with obvious areas of real struggle (see bev's excellent post at Asperger Square 8 for more on this kind of thing).
What I am against is the widespread social acceptance of making people feel guilty for existing, and for presuming it's okay to harass them until they become more in line with a particular vision of what someone of their age/gender/etc. is "supposed" to look like. Even if it appears to "work", the person may lose many of their paths to joy and toward areas where they may find and develop their strengths. There are ways to help and work with and befriend people -- and to share your own joys with them -- without negating them as individuals. And these ways need to be explored early and often. Considering how many kids seem to have absorbed the "different people are broken versions of me" attitude by age 10 or earlier, it's clear that something that needs to happen isn't quite happening yet to the degree it ought to be.
NOTE: I am fully aware that even the people who seemed the most "mean" growing up were (and are) people, and that for all I know, they've grown up into people who wouldn't bully a fly.
Hence, my intent in writing about childhood incidents is not to reduce any of my former classmates (or teachers, for that matter) into two-dimensional "characters" in my life's narrative -- that would not be fair to them, or me, or anyone else really, because people are never two-dimensional in real life. And besides, I don't think they were actually "villains" -- just kids caught up in a ridiculously cut-throat social environment, and (occasionally) teachers who didn't have a clue how to interpret kids like me or determine what was actually motivating us in our actions.
But just because stuff like that does tend to "fall out" of certain environments and historical contexts, doesn't mean it (or people's actions in the midst of those environments) cannot be pointed out and criticized. It is very difficult, after all, to work toward positive change without characterizing the obstacles in its way.

