From the moment I copied the definition for “tabula rasa” into my notebook for my Psych class, I knew it was what I believed about the way humankind is born. According to Wikipedia, tabula rasa is “the epistemological theory that individuals are born without built-in mental content and that their knowledge comes from experience and perception.” Or, in other words, nurture influences us far greater than nature. Our experiences make us who we are.
I can definitely make the claim that this is true for me. There are many factors that influence who I am today: my dad walking out on my family when I was ten years old, my sister making bad decisions that has led to years of excommunication, and my best friend of five years declaring I simply wasn’t good enough one day. My brain tells me that I would never have become the person I am today if it weren’t for those situations. The level of trauma they induced, the amount of tampering they did with my feeling of self worth, the flooding memories that accompany even the ringing of an alarm clock - those things prove that occurrences in my life shaped who I am.
Who I am is strong. I am a young woman who values perseverance above all other things. Ambition, creativity, and passion are three characteristics that I would say define me. But there’s no way the intensity of those traits would exist or that I’d be as proud of them as I am if it were not for the negative events that have happened to me or that I have witnessed.
I am aware that not everyone is like me. There are those who would disagree that nurture has the biggest impact on us, and to them, I say: how is living a delusional life treating you? Honestly, I can’t think of one person who hasn’t been affected by their experiences. Which is why it troubles me so much to write about what I’m about to share with you.
When I started writing this, I was extremely infuriated. It was five in the morning. My blood was boiling and there was no comprehension in my mind regarding the logic of this specific human being’s statements. And yes, they’re human. They’re not just “Internet trolls.” Yeah, they’re total assholes. But they’re people just like us, and they are how they are for a reason. By now, 6 pm the next day, I am more contemplative about how this even happened and why something I can’t change angers me so much. I don’t believe that things happen for a reason, and maybe that’s why I’m a bit more on the pessimist side most of the time - and what bothers me is that clearly, haters don’t think that way either.
Since 2007, I have been making “fandom friends.” These people live anywhere from four hours away to across the country – and sometimes, not even within the USA. It’s become clearer to me now that they are just average people like the rest of us. However, back when I first started making close friends with people who lived as far as they do, I didn’t think that anyone who lived close could compare. Not a single soul. There would never be anyone who understood me and my passion for Harry Potter like these fantastic “foreigners” did.
Little did I know, there were people just like that in my own city. In July 2010, I was introduced to a very close friend of mine, Erika. I had to think for a while about when we actually met, because it seems like it’s been so much longer than it has. When I talk to her, I feel as if she has known me since birth – since toddlerhood, at least. The first time we hung out was with a mutual friend at her house about fifteen minutes away. We had a Lord of the Rings marathon and sat in her basement from 10am until almostmidnight, watching all three extended editions of the films, making jokes, and generally having a great time.
At the time, I had literally forgotten it was possible to be that happy. Erika taught me that not everything that happens to us must be taken seriously – and sometimes, it works out in our favor to not care too much. That way, we don’t worry. From that movie marathon on, whenever I hung out with Erika, I felt carefree, like nothing else mattered. Maybe it’s because she’s a Hufflepuff – she has this light in her eyes that doesn’t really go out, ever. This is why it was so shocking to learn, several months later, that she was a suicide survivor. I could not imagine Erika having any relation with depression; she was just a big ball of light that never stopped giggling or pointing out things that appealed to my sense of humor like no one else could.
Only a month later, Erika was headed to college downtown and I was a senior in high school thirty minutes away. We only managed to see each other a couple times while on break, and times were stressful. I got wrapped up in drama and I gave my heart away too easily. It hurt. I can still feel it hurting. Sometimes I couldn’t even find a reason to get out of bed. I skipped school because I felt too worthless to carry on. I confided in her when I needed someone, and she would share with me personal stories that made my jaw drop. How anyone could think of her as anything but an angel was far beyond my comprehension. She’s just too sweet to ever have been hurting the way I was hurting. But still, it gave me strength to persevere – if she could move past dark times, maybe, just maybe I could as well.
Yesterday, one of my favorite YouTubers, Tyler Oakley, reblogged a post from another Tumblr user. The topic was how much this guy hated Pride parades. Apparently he’s gay as well, because he stated something along the lines of “I am the only good gay.” I would return to his page and retrieve the exact quotation, but simply thinking about the amount of hatred on his blog makes me sick. It fills my veins with venom. Not only does this statement breed misrepresentation toward the entire gay community, but this guy was completely unopened to discussion. He would not accept any of the rebuttals he got, which made me wonder – why post it in the first place? Is the point of a blog not to share your ideas? Why, then, would you block others’ out in the process if you simultaneously want your voice heard?
Erika, being her funny, opinionated self, went to go write in this jerk’s ask box. Granted, I wouldn’t have done this, but I admire her courage, or as some would say, ~lady balls~. She didn’t explode and definitely didn’t waste her time on a three page rant about how wrong this guy was for hating pride parades. She simply wrote a parody of Cee Lo Green and said “I see you postin’ dumb shit / Bout the gay pride parades / And I’m like / Fuck youuuu.”
Within minutes I believe, she got a response in the form of a graphic that told her to go kill herself, calling her “a giant faggot to some intellegent gays” – exact spelling. Minutes later, another graphic was produced reading “Suicide – you’re doing it wrong.” Of course, this was meant to enrage not only Erika, but her close friends and the rest of the Internet in possession of a functioning brain that feels rational emotions. Whether the likes and reblogs were mostly people who agreed or disagreed with this sentiment, it still made me sick to my stomach. How could anyone, anyone, think that they had the right to tell someone so sweet, so dear, someone who had helped light the truth for me over and over again, to kill herself? After all she’d been through? Just because she is a suicide surviver doesn’t mean that it’s all peachy now. She carries those scars like the rest of us carry our past, and it’s simply not humane to humiliate and degrade what once hurt us beyond reason, or what still may continue to haunt us.
You never know how someone may be affected by what you said.
As John Green stated, “What a treacherous thing to believe a person is more than a person.” Sure, Erika is strong, and that’s what I admire about her – but she’s not a Superwoman. She’s not a goddess. She is just a girl, who feels and reacts and loves and hurts just like the rest of us. And the same goes for everyone else who is a victim of cyber bullying. Whether they’re strong and mighty is irrelevant.
My close friends – and even those not so close – can attest to the fact that I am rather fierce, fiery, and sometimes mean when I get angry and riled up. But even someone like me, who has a complete lack of regard for others’ feelings at times, would never order someone to end their own life. It’s sick. It’s wrong. It’s not something that would even pop into my mind. And it gets me to wondering…
What has happened to this tortured soul, this random blogger, this member of the gay community, thishuman, to make them so hostile? How detached, how disenchanted do you have to be before you begin making demands on the Internet for a total stranger to end their life? It happens every day. How can you be so pompous, so arrogant, that you take pride in being a total asshole? Does it make you feel important? Do you think you have a badass “dark sense of humor”? Is there power in dehumanizing someone just because they exist on a blog and not in front of your face? Would you say that to someone in real life?Because if you would, man, let me tell you something. You’re the one who will end up forever alone.
Throughout this blog entry, I have written and backspaced on the following question: “What if she did?” What if Erika wasn’t here for me, for her family, for her friends, for the Internet to appreciate and laugh with, but most importantly, for herself? All the time I see her sticking up for suicide survivors and people struggling with depression – myself being one of them. There is no one alive today and no one who ever lived who deserved to be told to end their lives. No matter how rich, poor, evil, horrible, or cruel of a person they are or were – everyone alive deserves a shot at life. Life is for the alive, and I’ll be damned if during that time I’m going to sit here and watch my very best friend be ridiculed by someone who’s never even laid eyes on her shining face.
What was this person thinking? Did he grow up in an abusive childhood? Did he have bullies in elementary school? Did he get sharp objects thrown at him one too many times in a past relationship? Really, who broke his heart? I’d like to know. I’ve been harassed online too – from hateful anonymous messages to spam on my Dailybooth pictures telling me I resembled a man. From Myspace and Youtube comments telling me I was ugly and a slut to Facebook messages telling me my chin was too big. It’s degrading, no matter how much we like to claim otherwise, but it’s even worse when it’s directed at friends we truly care about and hate, hate, to see upset.
In retrospect, I realize that some people may look at this post and think “What the hell? Internet hate is not that serious. Who cares if some random jerk said that? Shrug it the hell off.” And yeah, maybe that’s the argument that pops into your head first. But sometimes, I find it fascinating to crawl inside the demented head of Internet villains and just wonder what they were thinking. Because cyber bullying is not something to shrug off, it’s a serious issue, I’m going to keep wondering. And keep making people aware that yes, it is happening to innocent people, to children, to adults, and to my best friend and I.
In August, I’ll be headed to college four hours away and Erika will still be here. Thinking about how much I’ll miss her hurts too much, so I normally don’t do it. But when my mind strays to thoughts of the future, I know that she’ll always have a place with me. For her courage, her never-ending, fantastic sense of humor, and her strength, I thank her for showing me that you can make life what you want to make it. As much as it feels like it, I was not born with this girl in my contact list or my address book. Because I was introduced to Erika, I know that nature is important, but nurture wins out in the end.
