Jason is Still A Jerk, FWIW. A Successful Jerk.

There's a moment when we figure it out. I don't know if Alexis has figured it out yet, but I suspect she probably has. Mila, fortunately, has a few years because that girl isn't going to just accept the way things are. She's going to go into kicking and screaming. Let's face it; it's pointless to fight.

They always win.

I figured it out in second grade. It was second grade at North Hills Elementary, one of six or so elementary schools in Minot, North Dakota. It was recess and we were outside, despite the cold weather because obviously. I was wearing a too-thin brown coat, but it was the best I had. I was also wearing blue mittens and a blue hat and it was so cold.

So cold.

We were climbing on the monkey bars when he walked up and grabbed my hat. He ran away with it in hand, laughing as he called over his shoulder yelling names and such. Frankly, that's just how things were. Kids called me names all of the time because they all knew I had nothing except that I was smarter than them.

Being smart doesn't get you anywhere when you're poor, by the way. Oh, and there's a mountain of difference between "poor" and "broke". Broke people can be millionaires driving Jaguars because credit is a thing and once you have something, there are ways to float by on nothing. Poor, though. That's a condition for which there is no recovering. It means you'll need three jobs when you're 17 just so you can pay for the standardized tests required to apply for college. It also means making the choice between feeding your family dinner or putting gas in your car so you can go to work.

My parents chose dinner that day. I remember that part, too, because it's a piece of why things played out the way they did.

The boy stole my hat and ran off with it while calling me names. Initially I was stunned into non-action, but then I took off running after him. I knew I couldn't just grab my hat and go back to pretending I didn't care, so instead I grabbed his hat off of his head and took off.

Jason, that was his name and you better believe I remember that and I can still tell you where he lived, was not amused. He started yelling and carrying on and then the jerk went and told the recess monitor. I mean, COME ON. He started it.

We both wound up in the principal's office. We both got a lecture about not touching other peoples' stuff and how it wasn't safe to take hats when it's cold and, and, and ...

"He started it!"

"Honey, boys do silly stuff like that when they like a girl. He's just being a boy," the principal, who was wearing a blue button-down shirt that day, said. Jason didn't hear that part because his mom had already picked him up. I had to sit there another hour because my parents didn't have gas in the car and couldn't pick me up. When an hour went by and the principal grew tired of waiting, I was told to walk home. I cried the whole way there because it wasn't right, and then I ate cold tuna noodle casserole because they picked dinner that day.

I knew in second grade. I knew that the rich white boys will always win, no matter what.

Comments

[Maria]

You know, I live 10000 miles from you, in a different continent and I still understand you in my bones. It is not a reasoning understanding. It is straight up my belly understanding. And somehow I still hope that my children will somehow change a little bit of that. I mean between my 7 yo and your 4 yo girl something got to change.