This is a hard one. My heart is already heavy and I haven't started yet. When this was first added to my list, I wasn't sure what I'd write about. I wasn't sure I had ever been bullied. But as I've been writing more and more about my childhood and teenage years in this blog, I've started to remember more. And that's been mostly great and fun. This will be the exception.
The year was 1982 or 1983. I was attending Hillel school in Stockholm at the time, and because it was a Jewish private school, every year the six graders went to Israel for two weeks. So I went to Israel with my whole grade, probably about 25 or so other students. The trip was structured so that we traveled around for a week and then stayed at a boarding school for one week for the more studious part of the trip.
The Wailing Wall & Masada
I remember the traveling around part was pretty cool. I think we went to see the wailing wall in Jerusalem, and I remember Masada because someone dropped their camera close to the top. And we probably visited the Dead Sea as well.
Then it was time for B'nei Brak, where the boarding school was. I remember the school was quite religious, and that whatever classes we had were boring, compared to the traveling around part. I remember that there were stray, skinny cats all around the school, which we were told not to pet or feed. Of course we did anyway.
I remember that we were divided into foursomes for the sleeping arrangments. I was with my three closest friends at the time and we had pushed two large beds together to make one giant bed, which we all piled into like sardines. The first night I slept on the edge, which I really didn't like, but we had made arrangements that we would switch each night, so that each of us would sleep in each position.
After that first night my three friends decided that they were happy with where they were sleeping and that we wouldn't switch. Not the biggest deal in the world, but I was a bit upset because I really didn't like where I was sleeping and had only agreed to sleep there the first night because we were switching. So there was a set up, or a feeling already, that my opinion didn't count, or I wasn't important or my discomfort didn't matter, and that certainly didn't make me feel good.
What came next made the whole sleeping thing seem quite silly. The next day I was wearing a romper. It was one of those terry cloth strapless numbers. Mine was white and it had dots in all the colors of the rainbow, all over it. I loved that thing. My three friends pulled the top of it down and shoved me out in the hallway where all the boys were playing. They shut the door behind me.
There I was with the top of my romper at my waist. I didn't really have any boobs at that time, but it was humiliating and embarrassing nonetheless. Everyone was laughing at me, including my friends from the doorway of "our" room. I think I pulled it up, ran off somewhere crying, and I don't remember much else from that day, or the last few days of our trip.
I do remember refusing to go back to the same school because of that Israel trip, so after our summer break, I started a new school, a public school, in the suburb where we lived. That was a big change and adjustment for me, and I had a bit of a rough go of it there too, before I found my groove. Ultimately there were both good and bad things to come out of it, but I suppose my first choice would have been to remain in my first school, where my brother Ulrik was.
If I had to pinpoint a specific life lesson or realization to come out of that incident, it was probably something about not being able to trust women. That women can have this sort of cold, evil, competitive, or dramatic flair, and it's stayed with me throughout my life. I don't think it's a coincidence that I have more male friends than female; men make me feel safe, relaxed, calm and nurtured. Of course, that could also be attributed to the fact that I have four brothers and probably attempt to replicate those relationships wherever I go, to have that feeling of "home."
I'm 100% responsible for my life, so there are no hard feelings or hate towards my friends who bullied me back then, even though it's a bit tricky to revisit. It was something that happened that impacted a lot of things in my life, but I firmly believe that it is the sum of all my experiences that makes me who I am, whether those experiences are happy, sad, or traumatic.
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