ABSTRACT
I still remember the sting I felt the first time I consciously knew that someone completely misrepresented who I was. I was very angry, but I was also really hurt — shocked and frightened might be more accurate. As a kid, I hung out with different groups. I was athletic and enjoyed playing some organized sports. I loved
music and played in different bands, and I liked many of my teachers so I had lots of school activities and pals. I moved from place to place with relative ease and was welcomed by each group, even if I was not quite a bona fide member of all of them. On one particular occasion, however, an older and much bigger boy — not a musician, not a school pal, not a sports buddy, but one of the power brokers at a park I would frequent — made me a target for some reason.
