♦Welcome to another edition of the Open Book Blog Hop!♦
Topic #161
What was your best drop the mic moment?
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Among my friends, I am known for my sharp wit and intelligence. I am quick on my feet after years of practice with my father and brother, who also have a talent for jokes and jabs. One of my wishes when I was younger was to be even sharper than them. I’d like to think I earned that wish.
There have been so many mic drop moments during the course of the past couple of decades, that none of them stands above the other. For some reason, I attract men, in particular, who want to debate me. They don’t walk away satisfied, so to speak. There are screen-captures on my facebook, in a special folder, which highlight some of the altercations. When I first came online, I was a bit of a lamb, but I learned fast, thanks to my historical practice with abusive mouth pieces, and the lessons I learned at home.
The moment that does stand out happened in high school, and was the time I realized I had indeed inherited the family gift. Those who know me best now, would not think there was a time that I wasn’t a clap back queen. In fact, I’m the one they call on when they’ve run aground some troll.
Sitting in French class, I was minding my own business when one of the popular girls, Patty (sic?) turned around to me and said, “Look at your eyes. They’re the devil’s eyes.” Now, keep in mind a couple of things: she was sitting next to a guy named Mike that had harassed me most of my life to that point. He was a super douche bag. The other thing is that Patty had these deep set eyes, with dark circles. The iris had an orange-brown tone. They weren’t particularly pretty in color, and definitely not in shape.
I’m sure see where this is already headed.
Without missing a beat, I tilted my head a bit to the side and replied, “Have you looked in the mirror? Projecting much?”
Mike laughed his ass off, with, “Oh, she got you good.”
And Patty seethed. I just smirked at her. She turned back around and that was the last time I was bothered by them or pretty much anyone else. It must have been 10th grade.
Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash
Unfortunately, the years of bullying had already done their damage, and I still have ptsd (with anxiety and depression) from it. That moment, however, gave me my voice, and I have grown to fear less and less over the years. The abusive things people say to me now don’t make their mark any more. Why give power to them? Still, it’s amusing as hell when trolls try to get under my skin, and insist that whatever drivel they’ve smeared on the internet has upset me. My dearest friends know me as someone who is stoic. Controlling my emotions and remaining unflustered is a survival technique that I learned very young. My emotions and thoughts are not open to everyone, and neither is my complete self.
Please do not feel sorry about any of this. I know that might be the first response one has to reading a story like this, but the lessons I learned, the strengths I gained, and the wisdom I carry are not things I would trade in order to have had an easier life. Above all, I like the person I have grown into, and I wouldn’t want to lose her for the sake of erasing uncomfortable memories.
Let’s hop on over and read about the mic drop moments our other authors have to share today…
Yeah, we learn to rise above the nasty remarks as we grow older and not take them to heart. It’s a case of having self-confidence and faith in yourself. Well done for remaining unflustered. In this way the trolls give up, as they can’t elicit a response.
I wish I could have accepted that truth earlier and saved myself a lot of heartache. My mother told me repeatedly, but it just didn’t have enough weight to overcome their words. At least, it eventually did take root. I hope that kids today who are bullied will rise above. It’s so tragic to hear that they succumb in the worst of ways to the trolling. Of course, it would be great if the authorities took it seriously, and held them responsible when their bullying has been severe enough to cause physical harm and death. Adults, too often, are dismissive of the feelings of young ones.
I’m glad you found your voice. The bad part is, adults play the same games, picking and choosing which children are favored. not just allowing the bullying, but at times participating.
I had that happen with a first grade teacher I really liked. My heart broke a little that day. I didn’t understand why I was being treated differently. Truth be told, I never have understood the reasons why someone would do that at all. Maybe, it’s more like I refuse to accept such behavior in people.
I remember two girls in particular at school giggling and making snide remarks about my wild, curly hair. The remarks went on for weeks and weeks. It was hard, but I took my mum’s advice and looked through them as though they were not there. It drove them crazy that their words had no effect on me. They did have an effect, but I hid it. Eventually they gave up. I never spoke another word to them for the rest of my schooldays. One of them asked to be my Facebook friend 40 years’ later – perhaps she felt guilty!
I always find that interesting, that they would like to be friends later in life. I think it’s seeking redemption for their sins, so to speak. They don’t need the person they tortured to make peace with themselves. They need to make peace with the part of themselves that feels guilty and the part that is willing to be so cruel. There are some people I have allowed on FB, others I have ignored, and a few who have never asked thankfully.
And your mum was right. It’s so hard to do in the moment. You should be proud.