When I was a freshman in high school, a large group of older boys at school thought that the most hilarious running joke would be proclaiming their love to me over and over again. It did not help that I was physically mature for my age. On Valentine’s Day, they sent me over 30 carnations in front of my whole class. I did not know what to do besides laugh along with everyone else, while secretly feeling uncomfortable. Girls are taught through pop culture that a boy harassing them out of passion is a dear proclamation of love, and should be yielded to tenderly. What these boys were really doing was asserting their male power at my expense, and continuously belittling me in an academic setting. I was an intelligent student who was remembered for my boobs.
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