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Rite Of Passage Analysis

Decent Essays

As children, my brother and I would constantly fight with each other. He would pull my hair and steal my dolls. I would call him names and tell him he was adopted. We would both get upset. As a significant person, a person whose opinions we especially value (66), my words were incredibly powerful and hurtful to my brother. He would of course tell our mother what I had said. This was incredibly frustrating for her as she was always reassuring him that he was in fact, not adopted. She would tell me how my words hurt and that once said, they can never be unsaid. She cautioned me that one day, I would regret the things that I said. I didn’t truly listen to her caution. One day my brother was so upset about the thought of being adopted that my mother …show more content…

It was considered a rite of passage and something that all kids did. A lot of kids looked forward to the hazing because they felt it mean that they were accepted into a social circle. As a freshman I had made the varsity cross country team. I was so excited and really looked up to my upper classmates. They were my social comparison, evaluating ourselves in terms of how we compare with others (66) and my reference group, the group against which we compare ourselves (67). One day, while we were doing our cool down stretches, the upper classmen decided it was time to haze myself and another freshman that had made the varsity team. We had to take turns sitting in the middle of the circle while each upper classman told us what they disliked about us. I was too fat, I was ugly, my braces were disgusting, my hair was too thin, I didn’t wear the right clothes. It was 15 minutes of utter ego-busting humiliation that left me feeling worthless and ashamed of myself. My self-concept, the relatively stable set of perceptions that you hold of yourself (63), had changed. I no longer saw myself as the strong athletic smart girl who had earned her place on the team. I was left with a reflected appraisal, a self-concept that reflects the way we believe others see us (65), of an ugly, stupid girl with no friends and whom everyone hated. I went home and I cried. I was so depressed. My parents knew something was wrong but could not figure it out. After a couple weeks, I finally broke down and told my parents what was happening at school. They were horrified. They went into the school to speak with the athletic director and coaches who all said that kids will be kids, and it was all in honest fun. I wanted to quit the team. My parents got me into counseling to deal with the depression, but they would not allow me to quit. Instead, my father started practicing with me in the morning before school. He told me that those

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