By Abby Haag
Focus
Midland HS
Not a compliment
I was walking to a bakery in Greektown with my mom. He was in a taxi. He told me that the leggings I was wearing made my legs look hot.
I tried to ignore him. I told my mom it was fine.
I was walking to my car in the Target parking lot. They were leaning on the hood of a car and yelling at me.
I kept my head down and gripped my keys a little tighter between my fingers.
I was walking by the river in Detroit with my family before we went to see Come From Away. Two men felt the need to tell me how nice my dress fit.
I was 16. It was my favorite dress. I haven’t worn it since.
I was in class. I was talking to one of my friends about how the
jeans I was wearing fit too tight around my waist. He came up from behind me and told me that the jeans looked good from where he was standing.
I felt sick.
I wanted to go home and change my clothes. I felt violated and I felt unsafe.
The following year I had to pretend everything was fine when I had
to see him every day in a different class. I said nothing when we were forced to be partners for a project. What was worse, it was in a class that
I loved. I looked forward to going, it was the highlight of my day. But every day we had to work together, I counted down the minutes until I could get away from him.
I was polite when he would comment on the fit of my clothes or how in shape I was but in reality, I was angry and scared.
I felt like if I told anyone what happened and what was continuing to happen they’d disregard it. I’d get told to ignore him or, even worse, I’d get told I was doing something to provoke him and that all of this was my fault.
So, I kept my mouth shut. I did my work. I pretended everything was fine. A few times I tried to confide in my guy friends who were in the same class. I thought maybe they could help or tell him to stop, or maybe, I just wanted to prevent them from saying the same things to other girls. They were quick to dismiss me however. “He’s just a weird dude, don’t let it get to you,” and “He wouldn’t do something like that.”
It’s easy for people to tell me that I should have tried harder than that. But they weren’t the one who would have had to go tell a teacher and hope to god that they’d be taken seriously. They wouldn’t have to deal with him if he found out I told someone he was harassing me.
School was supposed to be a safe place. But I didn’t feel safe. How long would it take for the harassment to turn into something worse?
Luckily, I didn’t have to find out. School closed down in March. He graduated in June. Even now, a year later, the things he used to say to me intrude on my thoughts. I remember how he would try to touch my hands or my shoulders, and I can’t shake the sense of dread that he instilled in me.
In writing this, I have been able to process what happened more than I was before. Not just the things he did but the words of strangers that I still carry with me too.
It’s hard to really come to terms with something traumatic that happened to you when people keep telling you that it wasn’t traumatic. I’ve heard the line, “Come on, he didn’t mean it like that, it’s a compliment” too many times.
If it’s a compliment then why doesn’t it feel like one? Why does it make me feel disgusting? Why does it make me feel like my autonomy is at risk?
I implore people to stop telling victims how to feel about the things that have happened to them. Believe victims when they come to you and ask for help. I know that if someone had done either of those things for me, I might have done more to protect myself and others that I know were going through the same things.
It isn’t enough to say that you’d never do something like that. It isn’t enough to tell someone that it’s okay. Because it’s not okay.
We’re all in this together
Like many others, I grew up watching High School Musical. I remember wondering what it would be like when I finally got to high school.
What color would my prom dress be? What would it be like to go to parties on the weekends with my friends? Most of all, I wondered what my senior year would be like.
I always imagined it to be as exciting and joyful as it was for the Wildcats at East High.
But now that I’m a senior, I don’t think Troy and Gabriella could have ever prepared me for this.
I don’t know how long it was after those first two weeks of
quarantine that I realized that my senior year wasn’t going to be normal. I felt helpless, and I still do. Helpless because I didn’t know if I’d ever get to get back into the pool with my teammates, helpless because I didn’t know if I’d get to work on The Focus again, helpless because I didn’t know if I’d get to go to homecoming or prom. Would I get to go back to school at all?
As it turns out, yeah, I got to get back in the pool; yeah, I got to work on the paper; yeah, we got the opportunity to go back to school. But none of it is the same.
It’s quieter everywhere I go. It feels emptier somehow. I feel emptier. Nothing is as joyful as it used to be and, in turn, neither am I. Instead, I’m just tired and sad all the time.
I try to be optimistic. I try not to feel bad for myself. But I can’t help feeling angry and sad and generally awful about everything.
It feels like I have been working toward this moment for my whole life. All of the hours I had spent bent over a desk doing school work, all of the stress and the tears, it was all for this, to get here, my senior year of high school.
I was supposed to be having the time of my life.
People tell me to be grateful for what I’m able to do and that I shouldn’t be upset because there’s nothing I can do about any of it. Please, believe me when I tell you, I am so, so, so outrageously grateful for the teachers and coaches and administrators and anyone else doing their very best to make this as good a year as possible, but I know what I’m missing out on.
I see my memories on Snapchat from homecoming last year and from championship meets and football games. I know I won’t get to do it one last time.
It’s so frustrating to look back and realize how much I took for granted.
Maybe, if I would have known it was my last SVL, I would have left more in the pool. Maybe, if I would have known it was my last homecoming, I wouldn’t have left early. If I would have known that all of these lasts would happen without my knowledge, maybe I would have done things differently. I feel so ridiculously selfish whenever I complain about any of it, though.
People are dying, people are losing their jobs, people are being forced out of their homes and here I am saying “Well I can’t go to football games!” My struggles are so insignificant compared to everything else happening, I know that, but I still feel like I got cheated.
I’m not going to say something stupid like “But it’s not all bad! We just have to keep our heads up!” because every time someone says it to me, it feels like a slap in the face. Because if I’m being honest with myself, it’s pretty thoroughly awful from where I’m standing.
I keep thinking, Why me? Why us? Why now?
Part of me wishes that this was happening to someone else. But another much more rational and much less selfish part of me knows that I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
I just want the senior year High School Musical promised me. But I know that it’s not the one I’m going to get.
1st Place
Division 2, News Writing
NW-09. Feature Columnist
Each entry must:
- have two (2) columns (feature or opinion) from different publication dates
- have both columns submitted together in the same entry form
- have the same standing head
- be authored by the same writer(s) (both columns in the entry should have the same byline)
- carry bylines or other writer identification to indicate the personal nature of the content
FOR ONLINE ENTRIES, submit the URL to one column in the URL field and the other in the Additional Information field.
Judges want to see the writer’s consistent quality in more than one column. A student media outlet may submit a second entry in this category, but it may not be written by the same columnist. Columns related to sports must be submitted under the Sports Columnist category. Submit a PDF of the print pages on which the columns were published or the URL to the columns on an online news site.
JUDGING CRITERIA
- Sharp attention-getting leads
- Expresses personal opinions; uses consistent style
- Reflects thought/research, freshness, individuality
- Effective use of facts/quotes or supporting material
- Informative, interesting, entertaining
- Upholds journalistic integrity
- Sentences, paragraphs of varied length; written clearly, concisely and vividly
- Proper diction/grammar