The Anonymous Boxer
A story for your week
Be Strong, But Not Rude. Be Kind, But Not Weak. Be Bold, But Don't Bully - Progressive Quotes.
This story takes place when I was in fourth, or maybe fifth grade. It was an era when “four square” was hot. Every recess, my friends and I would race out of the school doors in a mad dash to claim our “square.”
We would be in the throws of a competitive game, when out of nowhere, like Groundhog Day, a girl —whom I barely knew, (let’s refer to her as “the anonymous boxer”) would hunt me down and savagely slug me in the stomach.
She would approach us each day—shoulders back, eyes squinted, jaw locked in determination. Time would stand still—all of us four square-ers frozen in anticipation. Our eyes wide open in suspense. The wind slightly blowing our big bangs and loose, permed hairs. The sky, turning dark and moody.
I would square up to her, close my eyes, pinch my lips together and wait for the inevitable punch. She would execute the jab with precision (in slow motion of course) and then the moment would quickly, thaw—things would start happening again in real time. I would turn back to my friends and carry on with our four square game as if it never happened and she would go off and carry on with whatever else it was she did at recess besides socking my guts.
This went on for weeks, maybe months. I can’t say why, but I never once told on her and nor did my four square buddies for that matter.
One evening at home, I mentioned the anonymous boxer and her transgressions in passing to my parents. My dad became outraged on my behalf. Down to the basement we marched where he placed a gigantic pair of red boxing gloves on my small hands and proceeded to show me how to throw a good punch on his old Sugar Ray Leonard punching bag. He gave me the advice most parents of the 80s gave to their kids’ in this situation; “don’t throw the first punch, but if (when) she hits you again you hit her right back!”
After several practice punches, jabs and hooks, I was primed and ready for the next imminent attack. I was the female version of The Karate Kid.
Soon thereafter, you guessed it—like clockwork: four square, recess, and the customary blow to my middle section. Only, this time—I punched her right back (you might be on your feet cheering for me now). She had a momentary look of absolute shock and surprise on her face and then she burst into tears and with a minute not wasted, went directly to the “duty lady” (what we children of the 80s called the lovely moms’ who volunteered to watch over us at recess) and told on me.
The duty lady was appalled. Two girls fighting at recess? She promptly dragged us to the office to speak with the principal.
The principal lectured us and then directed us to call our parents to report our scandalous infractions.
Acting as guilty as I could muster, I picked up the phone and called my dad (not my mom, who may have been equally as horrified as the duty lady).
It must be noted, that my dad answered the call like it was perfectly natural to receive a phone call from me whilst at school in the middle of a school day in the 1980s (before cell phones might I remind you).
I confessed my scandalous crime to him with a measured voice. Unbeknownst to the principal—who sat by watching with a dramatically sober look on his face—my dad was positively thrilled to hear the play by play and proud that I had stood up for myself. He predicted with satisfaction, “She will never do it again!”
I hung up with a dry, subdued adieu—continuing to play the role of the scolded, and humbled criminal of course.
I slyly faced the principal who looked very pleased with himself. There is no doubt he assumed I would be grounded for months (the punishment of choice in the 80s) as a result of this monstrous and lawless act.
My dad was correct. The anonymous boxer never did strike again. Thankfully, I never faced another physical fight after that. I never did know or learn much about her. I am not even entirely sure what her name was.
I do look back on her with much kinder eyes and a softer heart. Who knows what was happening in her world at that time?
Whether or not this old school approach to the situation is right or wrong, is subjective. Perhaps, two wrongs don’t make a right.
Maybe I should have told the duty lady on her, instead of striking back?
But what’s done is done.
Ancient history as they say.
Regardless, I learned an important lesson: Sometimes we have to stick up for ourselves in ways that make us uncomfortable and go against our true nature (preferably not violence, of course).
At times, we don’t get to fly under the radar and stay invisible as much as we want to. Doing nothing is not an option. We have to rise to the occasion on our own behalves or on behalf of our loved ones and be an advocate, and right the wrongs as fairly, and civilly as we can.
“In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing." - Thomas Carlyle
RELATED MIDDLE MUSINGS YOU MIGHT ENJOY:
This was a tough read Carly! It went on for weeks maybe months?!! Made me just want to hunt her down and...and...😳.
Great advice and training from your Dad!