别因她掩盖了您的小家碧玉心理测试

藉由幽默又激动的转化,小说家Shane·Koyczan谈到了热门议题,年少与众不同是什么体统。「时至明天」是他对霸凌的所创作的有声诗,搭配着令许多个人为之着迷的录像。在此,他在小提琴家汉娜(Hannah)Epperson伴奏之下,显示了历史心心念念的现场全面演出。

后天,米姐想将以此演说献给那一个早已遭逢过欺凌的众人。被捉弄、被起侮辱性外号、被否定……那一个曾今的欺负伤害,让众人忘记了祥和原来的炫目漂亮。请别让损害为您制定以后,因为除开你以外,没人有身份定义你。

演说者:Shane Koyczan

发言题目:别让欺凌杀死你的天生丽质

0:17

There’s so many of you.

0:23

When I was a kid, I hid my heart under the bed, because my mother said,
“If you’re not careful, someday someone’s going to break it.” Take it
from me: Under the bed is not a good hiding spot. I know because I’ve
been shot down so many times, I get altitude sickness just from standing
up for myself. But that’s what we were told. “Stand up for yourself.”
And that’s hard to do if you don’t know who you are. We were expected to
define ourselves at such an early age, and if we didn’t do it, others
did it for us. Geek. Fatty. Slut. Fag.

1:01

And at the same time we were being told what we were, we were being
asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I always thought that
was an unfair question. It presupposes that we can’t be what we already
are. We were kids.

1:16

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man. I wanted a registered retirement
savings plan that would keep me in candy long enough to make old age
sweet.

1:24

(Laughter)

1:25

When I was a kid, I wanted to shave. Now, not so much.

1:30

(Laughter)

1:32

When I was eight, I wanted to be a marine biologist. When I was nine, I
saw the movie “Jaws,” and thought to myself, “No, thank you.”

1:39

(Laughter)

1:40

And when I was 10, I was told that my parents left because they didn’t
want me. When I was 11, I wanted to be left alone. When I was 12, I
wanted to die. When I was 13, I wanted to kill a kid. When I was 14, I
was asked to seriously consider a career path.

1:54

I said, “I’d like to be a writer.”

1:56

And they said, “Choose something realistic.”

1:59

心理测试,So I said, “Professional wrestler.”

2:03

And they said, “Don’t be stupid.”

2:05

See, they asked me what I wanted to be, then told me what not to be.

2:10

And I wasn’t the only one. We were being told that we somehow must
become what we are not, sacrificing what we are to inherit the
masquerade of what we will be. I was being told to accept the identity
that others will give me.

2:24

And I wondered, what made my dreams so easy to dismiss? Granted, my
dreams are shy, because they’re Canadian.

2:33

(Laughter)

2:36

My dreams are self-conscious and overly apologetic. They’re standing
alone at the high school dance, and they’ve never been kissed. See, my
dreams got called names too. Silly. Foolish. Impossible. But I kept
dreaming. I was going to be a wrestler. I had it all figured out. I was
going to be The Garbage Man.

2:57

(Laughter)

2:58

My finishing move was going to be The Trash Compactor. My saying was
going to be, “I’m taking out the trash!”

3:05

(Laughter)

3:08

(Applause)

3:12

And then this guy, Duke “The Dumpster” Droese, stole my entire shtick.

3:18

(Laughter)

3:20

I was crushed, as if by a trash compactor.

3:24

(Laughter)

3:26

I thought to myself, “What now? Where do I turn?”

3:30

Poetry.

3:31

(Laughter)

3:33

Like a boomerang, the thing I loved came back to me. One of the first
lines of poetry I can remember writing was in response to a world that
demanded I hate myself. From age 15 to 18, I hated myself for becoming
the thing that I loathed: a bully.

3:48

When I was 19, I wrote, “I will love myself despite the ease with which
I lean toward the opposite.”

3:57

Standing up for yourself doesn’t have to mean embracing violence.

4:02

When I was a kid, I traded in homework assignments for friendship, then
gave each friend a late slip for never showing up on time, and in most
cases, not at all. I gave myself a hall pass to get through each broken
promise. And I remember this plan, born out of frustration from a kid
who kept calling me “Yogi,” then pointed at my tummy and said, “Too many
picnic baskets.” Turns out it’s not that hard to trick someone, and one
day before class, I said, “Yeah, you can copy my homework,” and I gave
him all the wrong answers that I’d written down the night before. He got
his paper back expecting a near-perfect score, and couldn’t believe it
when he looked across the room at me and held up a zero. I knew I didn’t
have to hold up my paper of 28 out of 30, but my satisfaction was
complete when he looked at me, puzzled, and I thought to myself,
“Smarter than the average bear, motherfucker.”

4:49

(Laughter)

4:51

(Applause)

4:57

This is who I am. This is how I stand up for myself.

5:04

When I was a kid, I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were
the same thing. I thought they were both pork chops. My grandmother
thought it was cute, and because they were my favorite, she let me keep
doing it. Not really a big deal. One day, before I realized fat kids are
not designed to climb trees, I fell out of a tree and bruised the right
side of my body. I didn’t want to tell my grandmother because I was
scared I’d get in trouble for playing somewhere I shouldn’t have been.
The gym teacher noticed the bruise, and I got sent to the principal’s
office. From there, I was sent to another small room with a really nice
lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home. I saw no
reason to lie. As far as I was concerned, life was pretty good. I told
her, whenever I’m sad, my grandmother gives me karate chops.

5:51

(Laughter)

5:59

This led to a full-scale investigation, and I was removed from the house
for three days, until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises.
News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school, and I
earned my first nickname: Porkchop. To this day, I hate pork chops.

6:24

I’m not the only kid who grew up this way, surrounded by people who used
to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more
than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up
believing no one would ever fall in love with us, that we’d be lonely
forever, that we’d never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was
something they built for us in their toolshed. So broken heartstrings
bled the blues, and we tried to empty ourselves so we’d feel nothing.
Don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone, that an ingrown life
is something surgeons can cut away, that there’s no way for it to
metastasize; it does.

7:00

She was eight years old, our first day of grade three when she got
called ugly. We both got moved to the back of class so we would stop
getting bombarded by spitballs. But the school halls were a
battleground. We found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day. We
used to stay inside for recess, because outside was worse. Outside, we’d
have to rehearse running away, or learn to stay still like statues,
giving no clues that we were there. In grade five, they taped a sign to
the front of her desk that read, “Beware of dog.”

7:28

To this day, despite a loving husband, she doesn’t think she’s
beautiful, because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half
her face. Kids used to say, “She looks like a wrong answer that someone
tried to erase, but couldn’t quite get the job done.” And they’ll never
understand that she’s raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins
with the word “Mom,” because they see her heart before they see her
skin, because she’s only ever always been amazing.

7:55

He was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree, adopted,
not because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was three when
he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy,
started therapy in eighth grade, had a personality made up of tests and
pills, lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were
cliffs, four-fifths suicidal, a tidal wave of antidepressants, and an
adolescent being called “Popper,” one part because of the pills, 99
parts because of the cruelty. He tried to kill himself in grade 10 when
a kid who could still go home to Mom and Dad had the audacity to tell
him, “Get over it.” As if depression is something that could be remedied
by any of the contents found in a first-aid kit.

8:44

To this day, he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends, could describe to
you in detail the way the sky bends in the moment before it’s about to
fall, and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration, he
remains a conversation piece between people who can’t understand
sometimes being drug-free has less to do with addiction and more to do
with sanity.

9:04

We weren’t the only kids who grew up this way. To this day, kids are
still being called names. The classics were “Hey, stupid,” “Hey, spaz.”
Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every
year. And if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear,
do they make a sound? Are they just background noise from a soundtrack
stuck on repeat, when people say things like, “Kids can be cruel.” Every
school was a big top circus tent, and the pecking order went from
acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies, all of these miles
ahead of who we were. We were freaks — lobster-claw boys and bearded
ladies, oddities juggling depression and loneliness, playing solitaire,
spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal,
but at night, while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It
was practice, and yes, some of us fell.

10:02

But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris left over when
we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be, and
if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror,
look a little closer, stare a little longer, because there’s something
inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to
quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself,
“They were wrong.” Because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a
clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or
everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to
show-and-tell, but never told, because how can you hold your ground if
everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe
that they were wrong. They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be
here?

10:53

We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in
them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we
were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on
some highway, and if in some way we are, don’t worry. We only got out to
walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made
It, not the faded echoes of voices crying out, “Names will never hurt
me.” Of course they did.

11:26

But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that
has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.

11:38

(Applause)

0:16

不少人呀。

0:23

当自身或者小朋友的时候, 我把自己的心藏在床底下,因为我的三姑告诉自己,
“你如果不小心保管,終有一天有人會摧毀它。”
听自己说,床底下并不是藏东西的好地点,
我很通晓因为每当自己想要站起来,自强不息的时候
都会因为“高原反应”而被五遍次打倒在地。 但这就是人家教我们的。 自强不息。
如若您没有显著的一定,你很难完成自强不息。
我们还很小的时候就被要求肯定自己的从来, 假如我们做不到,别人就会代劳。
“呆子”。“胖子”。“荡妇”。“苦力”。

1:01

在咱们被给予身份定位的还要, 我们总是被人问到, “长大后你想做哪些?”
我平昔认为那一个题材问得很不公道。 它预先假诺了俺们不能够保持现在的楷模。
我们是少年小孩子。

1:16

当自家是娃娃的时候,我想成为一个男人。 我想要有投机的养老金账户,
钱丰盛自己把剩下的一生时刻都只花在制作老式糖果上
当自家是少儿的时候,我希望可以刮胡子。 现在?不想了。
八岁的时候,我想当海洋生物学家。 九岁的时候,我看了《大白鲨》。
然后我对友好说,“仍旧算了吧。”
十岁的时候,我的生父母离开了本人,他们不要我了。
11岁的时候,我希望团结一个人生活。
12岁的时候我不想活了。13岁的时候我想杀掉一个小孩子。
14岁的时候自己被要求庄重的考虑将来的职业生涯。

1:53

本身说,“我想做一个大小说家。”

1:56

他们说:“说个现实点的办事。”

1:59

于是自己说,“职业摔跤选手。”

2:03

他们说,“别傻了。”

2:05

你看,他们问我想做什么, 然后又告诉自己全都不可以做。

2:10

而且不停是对自家一个 不清楚为什么,我们连年被灌输,大家亟须成为跟自己
不同的规范,牺牲原本的本身, 来适应我们即将戴上的地方面具。
我总是被要求接受 外人赋予我的身份。

2:24

我不领会,为何自己的期望就这么容易被否定? 可以吗,我的指望们都很害羞,
因为它们都是加拿大人。(笑声) 我的期待们,她们都太难为情、太谦虚了。
它们孤零零的站在高中舞会的犄角, 从未被人欣赏过他们。
你瞧,我的企盼们也被人起了绰号。 傻瓜。笨蛋。异想天开。
可是本人直接怀有期待。 我要做一个摔跤选手。一切都想好了。
我要像垃圾搬运工一样(去摔跤)。 我摔跤的扫尾动作也会像垃圾压实机一样。
我的台词是,“我要把这垃圾扔出去!”

3:06

(笑声)(掌声)

3:11

然后这厮,杜克(杜克(Duke))•“回收站”•卓斯, 抢走了自己具备的台词。
我的心就像是被垃圾压实机压过同样沮丧。
我问自己,“怎么做?我还是可以做哪些?”

3:29

散文。 我疼爱的东西像回旋镖一样又重回了自身身边。 我记得我写下的首先行随想是对这么些让自身憎恨我要好的社会风气的答应。 在15到18岁以内,我憎恨自己,
憎恨我成为了自己看不惯的楷模:一个恃强凌弱的人。

3:48

19岁的时候,我写道, “我将爱我自己,不去在乎自己”
“是否站在和谐讨厌的岗位。”

3:57

自强并不意味你需要 使用暴力。

4:02

当自身或者小朋友的时候, 我用自家的家园作业换取友谊,
然后又通过迟到避开所有的爱人, 一般都不会有怎么样问题。
每回爽约我都能顿时原谅自己。 有次,一个孩子让我很寒心,
他直接叫自己“修行者”,指着我的胃部说, “好大的野餐篮子。”
因而我有了一个计划。 我发觉原来调侃一个人也不难,
有一天快上课的时候,我对她说 “嘿,给您抄我的课业,”
然后自己把团结前天写好的 错误答案递给了他。
他怀着满分的企盼去拿作业,却得了0分
他一筹莫展相信,在教室的另一头望着本人,做出“零”的手势。
我清楚我并非把温馨看似满分的学业举起来给她看,
很意外,他看着自家的时候,我深感很满足,
我对团结说,“比相似人精通嘛,狗娘养的。”

4:49

(笑声)(掌声)

4:57

这就是本人。 这就是本人自强的艺术。

5:04

当自己是少年儿童的时候, 我早已以为“猪排骨(pork chops)”和“空手劈(karate
chops)”是同等的。 我觉着它们都是猪排的情趣。
而自我的祖母觉得自己如此很可爱, 而因为自己爱好这么些,所以他并不曾纠正自己。
这也不是怎么大事。 有一天我去爬树,我才领会胖子是不符合爬树的,
我从树上摔了下来,身体的右手擦伤了。 我不想告诉自己的阿姨,我怕惹麻烦,
因为本来去我分外地点玩就被认为是不应当的。
几天过后,体育老师发现了我身上的伤痕, 我被带到了校长办公室,
然后又从这边被转到一个小房间, 一个很和气的半边天问了自身不少家里的工作。
我实话实说。 当时自我感到,这总体都还蛮好的。
我告诉她,每当我不如沐春风的时候,我的祖母就会给自家“空手劈(karate chops)”。

5:51

(笑声)

5:59

这吸引了几遍全面的(反虐待小孩子)调查。
我被从家里转移出去,被托管了三天, 直到他俩问起我身上的淤青是怎么来的。
这个愚蠢的故事很快就在学堂传开了, 我有了首个诨名: “猪排(porkchop)”
时至明日,我都讨厌听到“猪排”这些词。

6:24

无数儿童的成人环境都跟自家一般, 周围都是一对成天舞刀弄枪 欺负别人的人,
仿佛肢体的切肤之痛比侮辱的绰号带给大家的痛苦更多,
而大家同时感受到了这几个痛苦。 所以大家长大后,觉得没有人会爱上大家,
大家已然孤独一辈子, 而大家相遇的这么些把大家作为太阳的人,
不过是把大家作为是一种备选的工具。
大家破碎的心灵流淌着忧伤,想要麻木自己感不到疼痛。
不要跟我说心里的伤痛比不上骨膜炎的悲苦,
不要跟自己说内在的悲苦可以经过外科手术切掉,
不要跟自家说没有章程转移;它可以。

6:59

自己认识一个女孩,9岁 升到三年级的第一天便有人唤他丑。
我俩都搬到了教室后排 这样就不会老是被人丢纸团了。
但是该校的走道如故跟战场一样。 我们寡不敌众,天天都被人凌虐。
我们平常躲在母校,因为外面的环境更糟。
在外面,大家需要天天准备做着逃跑的准备,
或者像版画一样一动不动,不令人小心到。
五年级的时候,他们在她的课桌前贴了一张纸, 下面写着,“注意,狗出没。”
时至先天,她都爱莫能助发现自己的美,固然他有深爱他的老公
因为她的面颊,有一块小小的胎记。
小伙伴们总说,“她的脸就像是写了错误答案的纸,
被人用橡皮擦来擦去,却总是擦不根本。”
他们世世代代的不能领会,她抚养的两个儿女 将身为四姨的他身为美的化身。
因为她的孩子先来看了她的心迹,然后才是他的皮层,
唯有她的心底平昔维系着如此的喜人。

7:54

这些男生被嫁接在此外一个家园上 被人抱养, 并不是因为她的父大姑离异了。
他在三岁的时候就饮下了 一杯孤独、两杯苦难勾兑的酒,
八年级的时候起头收受治疗, 各种思想测试和药丸塑造了她的质地,
他的生活就像是过山车一律颠簸不定, 四一回自杀未遂,一波一波的抗抑郁药,
还有“嗜药者”的绰号。 1%是出于这个药丸, 99%是因为生活的残暴。
十年级的时候尝试自杀, 那一个时候他还在家住,他的五叔小姨跟她说的只是,“你要制服它。” 就好像抑郁可以肆意的被抢救药箱
里面的什么样东西修复好的均等。
前几日,他就像是一根TNT炸药桶,两端都被引燃了,
他会告知您,当天空起先跌入时 天空将会怎样的扭曲弯折。
即使不少的爱人都拍手叫好她的才情,
他照样免不了成为别人的谈资,这个人惊惶失措知晓,
一个人是不是吸毒,跟药物上瘾关系不大, 更多的在于他的理智。

9:04

像我们这么成长起来的孩子还有众多。
时至前日,有的孩子还在被人取侮辱的绰号。 比如,“笨蛋”,“怪胎”。
似乎每个高校内部都有一个弹药库存储这一个外号, 一年一年的更新换代,
即便学校里一个男女受了伤却没人愿意理她, 他们会令人知道么?
还是说他们就像录音磁带的噪声一样反复不停,
而人们只是说着“孩子也会很坏”这样的话? 每个高校都像是一个马来西亚戏团,
人与人中间等级显明,从杂耍员到驯兽师,
从小丑到龙套,他们的级差都比我们高一点层楼。
大家是怪人——女孩长着胡须,男孩长着龙虾的爪子
被鄙视,被调侃,感到气馁,感到孤独, 一个人玩纸牌,一个人玩转瓶子,
(转瓶选用接吻对象的游戏) 亲吻自己的创口,尝试治愈自己,
但每每夜深人静, 我们会走上钢丝,默默磨练。 是的,也有不成事的事例
不过自个儿想要告诉他们, 当我们决定跟过去的祥和决裂,起始全新的和睦,
这多少个经历然则是大家抛开的瓦砾, 假设你不可能看出自己的美,
换个更好的眼镜,凑得更近一点,看得更久一点, 因为你的内心深处有个声响
一向在阻拦你相差现在的友善。 你在自己破碎的心灵周围筑起城墙
并亲手写上:“他们是错的。” 或许因为你不被其他一个小团体接纳。
或许她们只是找不到人玩的时候才拉上您。
或许你想要向他们显示自己的口子,可是你根本不曾,
你怎么能在一个所有人都敌视你的条件中 表露自己的瑕疵呢?
你只美观重他们是错的。 他们不可能不是错的。 不然我们为啥存在?

10:53

我们为失败者喝彩, 因为我们就是她们。
我们并不像这多少个强加给大家的外号一样不堪, 这是我们得以成长的信心。
我们并不是高速路边 被丢掉的破旧车辆, 即便稍微相似,也并未提到。
我们只需要有的汽油,就能开起来。 我们的中标是靠自己拼命的战胜这个,
而不是频繁的骗自己, “我永久不会被这一个侮辱的绰号所伤” 它们当然会挫伤你。
可是大家的活着本来就是这般, 不断在惊喜之间平衡反复 更少的体味痛苦
体验更多的美。(掌声)

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声明

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*本文为网络整理干货,首要内容转载自fz-yoyo
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