On Social Courage

I just have a whitewashed memory book, anymore. Most of us probably do. We remember through our little kid or teenager eyes and sometimes we probably don't remember it right. And sometimes, there's not any right to remember; only wrong. But even those people, with so much to forget, probably fight to make some good come out of it. We're all looking to find a good place. A place to let our minds rest when we try to understand who and what we are, and from where we've come.

Specifically, I'm remembering Corey, and how I always felt like a coward for not standing up for him. He must have had such a hard time--a hard life like I never knew, for all my self-absorbed analysis of childhood and "woe-is-me!" attitude about poor lil ol me. So sad, for me to wear clean clothes to school every day. So sad, to have access to running water. So sad, to have a mom and grandparents who provided for me and loved me. So sad, to have siblings that sheltered me. However did I manage?

If I could go back and do it over again with knowledge, I wouldn't go back to tell off people whom I disliked, which I'll admit to have fantasized about (c'mon, admit it--you have, too). I wouldn't care if I was more popular--after all, to be popular in high school seems to be directly associated with having ever-present drama in your life, and that's never been my style. I hope, instead, that I would be more happy with who I was because I'd be less selfish. I'd look to see if there was something I could do for those who really needed a lift. I always felt wrong inside when people would make fun of Corey for smelling unwashed and sometimes like urine, for wearing the same clothes over & over without a change, for being unkempt, for being dirt poor. But he was nice to me, always. Respectful. Never leering at girls like some creeps did or being generally pervy and disgusting as so many of my male counterparts got away with in high school. I don't remember ever being snide about Corey, but I also don't remember ever going out of my way to do anything worthwhile for him either. I tried to mostly be nice to everyone, and he was no exception. That he seemed to appreciate my being nice to him (or perhaps just appreciating the fact that I was not actively mean) only furthers my guilt. I didn't even try and he was grateful. I'm sure it was a really horrible experience every day--maybe at home, too, but I don't know any of the particulars because I never got involved. But I do know how it was for him most of the time at school, since we rode the same bus and had several of the same classes together in a small school. I saw him being harassed by other boys who had something to prove, and sometimes by those girls that enjoyed exerting their social power on the powerless in order to feel superior. Through all this, all I did was to not treat him as badly. But I was passive.

Sometimes I think just treating someone like everyone else is not good enough. Maybe we're supposed to treat a person better, sometimes, than if he were like all the rest. Maybe he needs it more, because he doesn't get it anywhere else. But I was a coward, and it was a lot easier for me to be focused on my own problems, however pale they seem by comparison in today's light. What could I have done? Helped to buy him clothes, without him knowing (I have heard of someone doing this for a classmate who could not afford any new clothes--she guessed at his size, bought them with her own money, and left the clothes for him at the office with instructions for them not to tell him who it had come from--he never knew, and I didn't hear this from her, either). I certainly didn't have much extra money growing up, but I could have sacrificed something in order to share with him if I'd been less selfish. Maybe I could have been a friend to him, too. Maybe I could have publicly defended him to his tormentors, and risked being a complete outcast. Would it really have been so bad, to have some actual principles? But, this is easy to say, from my perfect lens into the past. It's too late for me to be a more decent person to Corey--I've long since moved away, and haven't heard anything about him. But I wonder, is there another Corey in my life that I have overlooked? Is there someone who needs my social courage, and yours?