The Ugly Duckling

When I was in middle school, I would be teased for no other reason than being Native American. My skin color was not much darker than others, my cheek bones and facial features are a bit different than the typical Caucasian and that is it. I believe to this day that the border town I grew up in was one of the most racist places I have ever lived. A border town is one that is located next to Native American reservations. The town I grew up in was close to three reservations. To this day, I would not live there and I will visit there only when necessary.

In about grade eight, I was walking down a hall when I came upon two boys teasing a petite younger girl. She was very thin, and her features hadn't caught up with her, so her eyes, nose and mouth looked too large for her face. She was dressed poorly. She was crying and appeared frightened. I stepped up and said in a loud, confident voice, "hey, what is going on here." I was quickly told to mind my own business. For some reason I stood between the girl and the boys. I didn't say another thing, just gave them my best look. My mom said, "You, my girl can do a look that says, if looks could kill, someone would be dead!" That was the look I gave them!

It wasn't too long before they backed off and left us alone. Yes us, they gave me some name calling too and even a shove, but I stood my ground. Scared but still standing between them and the girl. They called her every ugly name you can think of. Some not so bad and others the meanest. Later, when they left us she told me what had started it. She said, the one boy wanted her to kiss him and she refused. She told him that she doesn't kiss anyone and that is when it all started. She cried when she told me that they called her an ugly duckling! I told her that they were the ugliest ducklings and she had a small smile at that.

When I would meet her in the hallway after that, she would always have a smile and a wave for me. I was so glad I was able to help. I do not remember seeing much of her in high school. She had gotten some pretty thick glasses and at the time I remember thinking she was probably getting teased about the glasses. As time went by I found myself more and more getting in the middle of the bully and who they were threatening or attacking. I was never hit or shoved again. I often wondered if it was the look my mother said I have. The "If looks could kill they would be dead look!"

In high school, I was tired of the name calling and the racist remarks, and I purposely made friends with the toughest family in town. They were a large family and they had a reputation that I wanted on my side. They would not let anyone hurt me or my younger siblings I thought. My buddy and I walked down the alley of the school my siblings were going to during the lunch hour and it was clear to the kids on that play ground who my siblings were and who their protection was. At least that is what I thought as a girl in the 9th grade.

My story was almost always about trying to protect someone. I married too young and left that town, only to return later because of family matters. I don't think I ever lost that look that saved me and others in years past. And today I think it was probably the confidence I had from the very first time I used that look and it worked with the petite little girl in middle school! Many years later I ran into that girl. She was a full grown beauty. The kind of beauty, that is hard to take your eyes off of! And from what I heard, she really had turned into The Beautiful Princess.