SUPERHERO

Portrait of my family as superheroes

Hello everyone! Welcome to my blog. Today I’m going to share a little slice of my childhood. Please feel free to leave a comment with your opinions and thoughts on the subject matter. I really enjoy reading what you think. I hope you enjoy it.

 

SUPERHERO

As a child I wanted so badly to be a superhero. I loved Superman, Batman, and especially Wonder Woman. In elementary school I tied towels, throws, blankets—whatever I could find—around my neck to wear as a cape. I ran around the house, leaped from my sister’s top bunk bed to my bed, jumped from one sofa to the next, and basically drove my parents insane. Needless to say, I was a hyperactive tomboy.

In sixth grade I had a friend who was half the size of everyone in the class, very frail and petite and also wore glasses. A bully, whom I will call Godzilla, a tall, big-boned girl twice the size of the rest of us, picked on my small friend relentlessly.

Whenever Godzilla hurt my friend, I sensed a piece of me withered and I grew weaker. I was terrified of the bully, as was most of the student body.

One day, the fire alarm in my school rang. We did the usual: filed in straight lines down the stairs to exit the edifice, crossed the street and stared at the flameless, smokeless windows of the school building, while listening to our teacher talk about the dangers of not following instructions during a fire drill.

As we clambered up the steps on our way back to class, Godzilla stood behind my petite friend. The bully shoved her into the kid in front of her, yanked on the baby hairs on the lower hairline on her neck and slapped her on the back of the head, while my poor friend moaned and sobbed.

Something came over me that day as I watched my little friend suffer in silence while everyone stood idly by. I could no longer laze while Godzilla tortured my friend. When we reached the top of the stairwell I grabbed Godzilla’s arm, turned her around to face me and yelled at her to stop hurting my friend. The tormenter snickered at me and shoved me with all her might. I tumbled down the stairs. When I reached the bottom, I leapt to my feet and dashed up the stairs. With a Bruce Lee-like move I kicked her square in the abdomen, knocking her against the wall, taking her breath away!

At first, I didn’t understand what had come over me. I felt no pain after falling down the flight of stairs. I had never moved so fast, and what I felt was a tap of my foot turned out to be a karate front snap kick. I was charged on adrenaline.

Godzilla stood motionless against the wall, wide-eyed and panting while I gave the ninja death glare, and the other kids cheered me on. From that day forward, I believed I was a superhero in the making. Whenever I saw a kid bullying another, I was compelled to interfere. I would call out any teachers who I thought ignored bullying or did nothing to stop it. I was the anti-bullying superhero.

After a few black eyes, busted lips and detention hours I learned that fighting, yelling and accusing were not going to solve the issue of bullying.

In high school I made it my business to go to the principal whenever I saw a schoolmate bully another. I was quickly labeled a tattler and became very unpopular for a while. Not much changed as far as the bullying.

I was frustrated. What kind of superhero is unpopular?

As an adult, I finally realized that the best weapon against bullying is awareness. Spreading awareness about all kinds of bullying will help decrease the abuse. At least my inner superhero very much hopes so.

Original story by Vashti Quiroz-Vega

Illustration by Vashti Quiroz-Vega
(Superhero Family Portrait)