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(The Teacher) would call me "piggy", "smelly", "dirty", names like that, and the kids started following along with it. And I'd say, by the fourth grade, I started cleaning myself out. I didn't care anymore, but my father had this thing that you were allowed to take a bath once a week. He would measure the shampoo, he would measure the soap, and if he thought somebody was using the shampoo when he said you shouldn't, you'd get a beating. But I got sick of it, and the beatings almost became to be painless when hit with a belt or punched, it almost didn't phase me anymore, and I figured I'd rather be clean and go to school and have friends, because it hurt more to not have friends than to be hit by my father. –Anna, a twenty six year old white female


This article was originally published in The High School Journal, available at



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