Bullied in a Christian School

Cropped from a
Photo by phil thep on Unsplash

and Losing Faith

First, let me warn you, this is a story that contains violence and a reference to abuse.

Back in the mid seventies, when I was in the sixth grade, I was transferred to a small private school out in the middle of Nowhere, USA, that was affiliated with a major religious program that aired nation wide on television. This town was so small, that you had to go outside to change your mind, and that's probably why you couldn't get them to see a different point of view. I was transferred there to avoid the bullies. The problem wasn't that the bullies were picking on me, the problem was I had a temper and I stood up to the bullies with my fist. I was constantly in fights in the public school, because I was the new kid in town, that never said much, and they thought I was an easy target. At first we fought because I wouldn't back down and I stood up to my bullies, but then it became a matter of them wanting revenge for some reason or another ("You beat up my brother" or "You beat up my friend" or "I heard you're a good fighter").
When I transferred to the private school, everyone was the new kid so there shouldn't be any bullies,  right? WRONG. Because most of the kids there were either there because they were being bullied or they were the bullies. So, that failed. I still got in fights. I even started learning self defense, and lifting weights it got so bad.
Every day for three years I had a workout routine. I would load one hundred pounds of weights on the bar, turn on some disco music, and start spinning that bar around like it was a boa staff. Then I would do squat lifts. Then I would load the smaller bars with forty pounds and practice punching. Then I'd practice kicking. Then I would finish it off by practicing flipping my younger brother. I then started riding my bike for miles everyday.
For three years, I went to that school. For three years, I fought the others that where at my grade level. Sure we were punished. We got detention, we were beaten with a belt by the principle. I would say swats but what that man did was beyond spanking. It was like a bullwhip across your backside that would wrap around your body and smacked you in the nuts.
We weren't taught about God's love but instead everyday, we were screamed at about God's Holy Word and how we should live our lives, or we would be punished. We learned to judge or fellow man for the sins of the world. Throw away your TVs and Newspaper. Don't listen to the news because they lie. Don't listen to that kind of music. Everyday we were forced to memorize scriptures. I had watched what was being said on TV by the televangelist that they had affiliated themselves with. He didn't scream, he didn't talk about how everyone was condemned to hell. I didn't understand the contradictions.
Everyday we had to dress the same, act the same, be the perfect drones. The girls had to wear dresses and never cut their hair. The boys had to have a buzz cut and wear ties all the time. I would often get suspended from school because my hair would grow out and touch the top of my ear. After my suspension, I would be called hippie and I would call them hypocrites, and we would start physically fighting. Back to the principle's office, for more swats and detention.
So my mom and the entire carpool of other kids that rode with us, would have to wait on me after school, because it was almost an hour drive to get home. (although I wasn't the only kid that got detention).
One winter, we were hanging out in the bathroom, and one of the upperclassmen noticed that I still had a tan and decided that I must be dirty and needed a good scrubbing. I tried to tell him that I was part Indian (at the time that's what I thought but didn't know that I am a multitude of mixed races). He wouldn't listen and got the others riled up. I let one of them try to wash the color off my arm in the sink thinking that would satisfy them. But that wasn't good enough. After calling me a few racial slurs, they then decided that I needed to be scrubbed off in the toilet. Desperate and afraid, I started throwing punches and kicking with my feet. I was picking up people and throwing them at each other. There were about a dozen of us in there, and I'm not sure how I did it, but I managed to get to the door that was being held closed. I slammed into it so hard that you heard the would cracked, which was enough distraction that I was able to push the one holding the door closed out of the way and opened the door. I couldn't run to a teacher because they were not trustworthy so I ran outside to the far edge of the property and started hurling rocks at anyone that would dare come close. I survived the rest of lunch period standing over my pile of rocks.
Now I know that my temper was a big part of my problem. That I probably could have found a peaceful solution to most of my confrontations. That I didn't need to strike first with everything I had. One day in the eighth grade I finally learned a lesson. My arch-nemesis, the boy I got into fights most of the time, we fought each other for three years. Some fights were won by me, some fights were won by him, but on this day everything would change both of us. We were playing a game of ball, and we collided when we both tried to catch the ball. He grabbed me by the back of my neck, and threatened me and told me to something along the line of "never do it again." I should have just let it go, but without thinking, in one move, I had reversed the hold and now had him in a headlock, pounding his face with every ounce of strength I had. Six punches to the face before any teachers could break us up. I didn't know how physically strong I had become. I didn't know the kind of damage I could do to a human face with just six punches until that day.
At first I didn't realize what I had done until we were in the principle's office and I was made to look at what I had done. The boys eyes were swollen shut and he could not see. He looked worst than any of the boxers that I had seen on TV. I was horrified. What kind of monster had I become. My heart sank. I no longer had hate for him but instead I felt sorrow and sympathy. We talked while waiting for ice for his face and our punishment. It didn't matter who started the fight we were both going to get swats, but he took the blame for starting the fight.  I realized then that I needed to let go of the hate that I had inside me. I couldn't change the other people but I could change myself. After that I swore off violence. I swore that I would never do that to another human being again.  I found out from his brother the next day, that the boy had gotten spanked when he got home for losing a fight and that they always got spankings for losing.
That was the last year that I attended that school. My parents transferred me to another private school after finding out after all those years of the torture that my brothers and sisters had gone through. We never told them, but one day I said something off the wall, that was part of the doctrine that we were being taught. That was when they knew something was wrong. Many children from that school were withdrawn. A lot from our carpool and some others that were not.
I did learn to let go of the hate and rage that was built up inside. I did learn to control my temper. But even though I was studying the gospel, I no longer had trust or faith in any large "chain store" religion. I no longer felt the call to preach. I no longer felt the call for anything. I needed to search myself and find my path. That would take several years. That would take decades. That will be another story.
Rad a short note about healing https://ministries.godspaintedearth.com/2019/06/let-go-of-hate-and-hurt.html