As a mixed native and Caucasian in an all-native school, I always felt like I didn't belong. It didn't really bother me until I was blocked in the bathroom by four girls on a field trip; they cornered me, calling me derogatory names, the walls started to close in on me, I honestly had nothing back to say, I just stood there turning red and afraid of what might happen next. In that moment I decided that I had two options, learn to stand up for myself or leave. Flash forward two years, I made the hard decision to transfer to Santa Fe High School. I felt like I was giving up and not giving myself a chance to defeat the bullying, but I couldn't take it anymore. Three and a half years of nonstop name-calling and harassing. I left.
When I transferred to Santa Fe High School, I was filled with excitement and hope for what was to come. I left all the hate and bullying behind me and tried to start new. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't living in constant fear of being bullied and harassed. I met so many new people and had the opportunity to take AP classes. I was excited to play volleyball at a 5AAAAA school instead of a smaller 3AAA school. It seemed like a perfect opportunity to set me up for an athletic scholarship. Life felt too good to be true. As I was settling in, a ball came crashing down on a perfect situation.
In my fourth period PE class, my phone rang from a “No Caller ID.” I answered it out of curiosity, and on the line was a man's voice telling me that I would not be able to play varsity volleyball at SFHS because I had previously played varsity at the Santa Fe Indian School, and I was under review for recruiting. My heart sank, and I hung up the phone so fast. I thought it was a prank. Volleyball was my escape from everything in the world. The thought of not being able to play felt like a dagger to my heart, and I could not even process the information before running out of class.
The rule from NMAA says that if you transferred from a school and you previously played varsity there, your coach from the previous school must sign papers to say you are eligible to play at the new school. Because my coach signed the paper saying that I was recruited I had to go appeal in front of their board. There were certain circumstances that NMAA had in place that made you automatically eligible such as moving houses, or “other critical circumstances.” This word of other critical circumstances really made the whole situation complicated, because I had thought that being bullied constantly for 3 years would be critical. I guess not.
I went to my coach's office. She had become more than a coach to me—she was a mentor and someone whom I trusted deeply. I walked in with tears running down my face, and all she could do was call my dad and tell him he needed to get me immediately. When I left, she handed me a note with the names of lawyers written down, and I remembered thinking, "Why would I need a lawyer?" I thought this was about volleyball. Later I would come to realize it was about fighting a system that was so money-hungry they would take everything away from kids.
My dad picked me up shortly after, and I could not speak. We sat in silence for the whole 15-minute drive home. He dropped me off at the door, and I walked in and ran to my room. I did not turn on the TV or pick up my phone; I stared at the grey ceiling for hours until my mom came into my room and told me she was going to do everything she could to help me. For the first time since the call, I had a slight bit of hope that I would play varsity again.
Two days later, we drove to Albuquerque and met with one of the lawyers my coach had listed. I had never been to a law office; it was sad, with plain white walls and checkered floors. Everyone in there had bigger issues than me. I felt as though I was in the wrong place.
The days after the meeting were stressful, and I was so frustrated with the fact that I had to stand in front of seven people and tell my story twice, in two different appeals. I stood there telling them the stories about how I had been bullied, harassed, and mentally drained by the atmosphere of SFIS. Both times, the seven people all looked down at their phones, unamused and uninterested. I stood there quoting what these girls called me at the Indian school, crying and turning red. Those 10 minutes that I had to speak felt like a lifetime; my words felt meaningless. They dismissed me. That was it—they just told me to leave and that I would hear back.
Two days after that, my lawyer called me back saying it got approved. After thousands of dollars and two mentally draining appeals, I could play a sport. It seemed so unfair that the only thing stopping me from playing was a board of people who just wanted money.
Once I got approved to play volleyball at the varsity level, life was finally good. I loved the sport so much, and it was such an outlet for me to compete at an elevated level. The life that I had left behind at the Indian school was not a thought in my mind anymore; all the appeals and late nights crying were a lost memory. If I learned one thing from this situation, it was that things do work out, even if they seem like a door slammed in your face—another one is waiting to open. This situation taught me that I now know who I am: a person who stands up for what I love to do and whom I love. When I was at the Indian school, I learned to keep my head down and stay quiet. But that's not who I am.
Reflection
I wrote this memoir with the purpose in mind to not to dwell on the struggles that I had to overcome, but to highlight the growth and resilience that came from the experience. While the three years I spent overcoming bullying and other challenges were hard, it became a point in my life where I learned alot about myself, and about self-worth, perseverance, and strength. These lessons rather than the pain are what I hope the reader will take away. When writing this piece, I tried my best to shift the narrative from one of being a victim to one of overcoming hardships and highlighting how I overcame them. I knew the audience that would read this would probably not have experienced the same struggles as I have so I tried to provide enough context to the situation, such as the NMAA events, without confusing the readers with unimportant details.
Using technology to write the memoir made the process more efficient and accessible for me. Typing allowed me to organize my thoughts more quickly than handwriting, and it allowed me to revise my work easier. Additionally, having written a memoir last semester provided a foundation to build on. This prior writing not only sped up my writing process, but it allowed for me to look at my writing with a more critical eye and incorporate things that we have learned this semester with what I had already learned.
Writing this memoir was a really personal and emotional journey for me, having to retell the same story that I had to tell in front of the NMAA board again really brought those feelings back up. But I believe that sharing my story is an important step that I have to take in order to fully grow from the situation. I also feel the need to share my story in case other people have gone through the same thing and want to see someone else's point of view. Above all, I want to show that while adversity can be painful, it also has the power to shape us in positive ways. My hope is that anyone who reads this memoir will walk away with a sense of personal understanding that they have the ability to change their hard situations into a lesson.