Dear (former) queen bee,
I include the term “former” with optimism, hoping that time has softened your heart. Anyone who grew up in our small town would likely recall, without hesitation, who held the title of the meanest kid in class. You were the reigning queen of unkindness from elementary through high school, with even a few stints in college. Thankfully, I wasn’t your only target—many others faced your wrath as well.
Your brand of meanness was something else; it was almost impressive how adept you were at manipulating friendships. You had a knack for pulling girls into your inner circle, only to cast them aside just as quickly. Your approval was coveted, and when granted, it was fleeting. Your harsh words left scars on the self-esteem of girls who should have been enjoying their childhood, blissfully unaware of such cruelty. Need a reminder?
You once trailed a neighborhood girl off the bus, belting out “Baby Beluga” loudly enough to turn heads. You cruelly dubbed a ten-year-old “pizza face” as she began to struggle with acne. You spread false gossip about classmates, claiming to have seen two girls kissing when they were simply dancing. The extent of your impact may forever remain unknown to you.
I managed to evade your attention in middle school, but you certainly turned life into a nightmare for many already facing challenges. You preyed on those who were different—the girl with the short hair, the boy who hadn’t shed his baby fat.
Then came high school, where I became your target once more after dating the ex-boyfriend of one of your friends. The harassment was relentless: nasty remarks in the hallways, eggs thrown at my car, and hateful messages filling my phone. Ironically, you were far harsher than the girl who was actually hurt. It seemed you were just thrilled to have someone to pick on.
Even in college, I occasionally received harassing messages from unfamiliar accounts, which, upon investigation, usually linked back to your friend list. I wish I could say I never think about you, but social media and hometown gossip ensure your name pops up now and then. Everyone has a story about your cruelty, each detail etched in their minds like a painful tattoo.
Most recently, I heard the news that you are married and have a baby. My immediate thought was, “I hope you teach that child kindness.”
Now, as a mother myself, I’ve learned that children aren’t born mean. They either learn it from others, or they act out due to something missing in their upbringing. I often find myself wondering what fueled your cruelty. Did you lack love? Acceptance? Attention? Part of me feels sad for you.
But then I think about my child, who will inevitably encounter someone like you one day on the playground or in the hallways. So, I’m reaching out to you, as one mom to another—let’s not allow history to repeat itself. Nurture the goodness and innocence in your child. Raise them to be kind, and I promise to do the same.
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Ultimately, I hope we can break the cycle of cruelty for the next generation.
Summary:
In a heartfelt letter to a former mean girl, the author reflects on past experiences with bullying, expressing a hope for kindness in the future. As a mother, she emphasizes the importance of raising children to be compassionate and understanding, urging the former bully to foster positivity in her own child.