直到今天…为了被欺负和美丽
by Shane Koyczan
There's so many of you.
你们太多了。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
When I was a kid, I hid my heart under the bed, because my mother said, "If you're not careful, someday someone's going to break it." Take it from me: Under the bed is not a good hiding spot. I know because I've been shot down so many times, I get altitude sickness just from standing up for myself. But that's what we were told. "Stand up for yourself." And that's hard to do if you don't know who you are. We were expected to define ourselves at such an early age, and if we didn't do it, others did it for us. Geek. Fatty. Slut. Fag.
当我还是个孩子的时候，我把我的心藏在床下，因为我妈妈说：“如果你不小心，总有一天会有人把它弄坏的。”把它从我这里拿走：床底下不是一个好的藏身之处。我知道，因为我多次被击落，我的高原反应只是站起来为自己。但这就是我们被告知的。“站起来，为自己。”如果你不知道自己是谁，那就很难做到。我们被期望在这么小的年纪就定义自己，如果我们不这样做，别人就为我们做了。极客。胖子。荡妇。FAG。
And at the same time we were being told what we were, we were being asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I always thought that was an unfair question. It presupposes that we can't be what we already are. We were kids.
当我们被告知我们是什么的时候，我们被问到：“你长大后想做什么？”我一直认为这是一个不公平的问题。它的前提是我们不能成为我们现在的样子。我们是孩子。
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man. I wanted a registered retirement savings plan that would keep me in candy long enough to make old age sweet.
当我还是个孩子的时候，我想成为一个男人。我想要一个注册的退休储蓄计划，它可以让我的糖果足够长到使老年变甜。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
When I was a kid, I wanted to shave. Now, not so much.
当我还是个孩子的时候，我想刮胡子。现在，没有那么多了。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
When I was eight, I wanted to be a marine biologist. When I was nine, I saw the movie "Jaws," and thought to myself, "No, thank you."
当我八岁的时候，我想成为一名海洋生物学家。当我九岁的时候，我看了电影《大白鲨》，心想：“不，谢谢你。”
(Laughter)
（笑声）
And when I was 10, I was told that my parents left because they didn't want me. When I was 11, I wanted to be left alone. When I was 12, I wanted to die. When I was 13, I wanted to kill a kid. When I was 14, I was asked to seriously consider a career path.
当我10岁的时候，我被告知我的父母离开是因为他们不想要我。当我11岁的时候，我想一个人呆着。当我12岁的时候，我想死。当我13岁的时候，我想杀一个孩子。当我14岁时，我被要求认真考虑职业道路。
I said, "I'd like to be a writer."
我说：“我想成为一名作家。”
And they said, "Choose something realistic."
他们说：“选择一些现实的东西。”
So I said, "Professional wrestler."
所以我说，“职业摔跤手。”
And they said, "Don't be stupid."
他们说：“别傻了。”
See, they asked me what I wanted to be, then told me what not to be.
看，他们问我想做什么，然后告诉我什么是不应该的。
And I wasn't the only one. We were being told that we somehow must become what we are not, sacrificing what we are to inherit the masquerade of what we will be. I was being told to accept the identity that others will give me.
我不是唯一的一个。我们被告知，我们必须以某种方式成为我们所没有的，牺牲我们所要承受的，去继承我们将要成为的样子。我被告知要接受别人给我的身份。
And I wondered, what made my dreams so easy to dismiss? Granted, my dreams are shy, because they're Canadian.
我在想，是什么让我的梦想如此容易被摒弃？当然，我的梦想是害羞的，因为他们是加拿大人。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
My dreams are self-conscious and overly apologetic. They're standing alone at the high school dance, and they've never been kissed. See, my dreams got called names too. Silly. Foolish. Impossible. But I kept dreaming. I was going to be a wrestler. I had it all figured out. I was going to be The Garbage Man.
我的梦想是自我意识和过度道歉。他们独自站在高中舞会上，他们从未被亲吻过。看，我的梦想也被称为名字。真傻。太愚蠢了。不可能。但我一直在做梦。我要做一名摔跤运动员。我已经想好了。我就要当垃圾工了。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
My finishing move was going to be The Trash Compactor. My saying was going to be, "I'm taking out the trash!"
我的最后一步是做垃圾压实机。我的意思是：“我要把垃圾拿出去！”
(Laughter)
（笑声）
(Applause)
（掌声）
And then this guy, Duke "The Dumpster" Droese, stole my entire shtick.
然后这个家伙，杜克“垃圾桶”，偷走了我整个的小东西。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
I was crushed, as if by a trash compactor.
我被压扁了，好像被一个垃圾压实机压了。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
I thought to myself, "What now? Where do I turn?"
我心里想：“现在怎么办？我该在哪儿转弯？”
Poetry.
诗歌。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
Like a boomerang, the thing I loved came back to me. One of the first lines of poetry I can remember writing was in response to a world that demanded I hate myself. From age 15 to 18, I hated myself for becoming the thing that I loathed: a bully.
就像一个飞去来器，我喜欢的东西回到我身边。我记得写的第一行诗是为了回应一个要求我憎恨自己的世界。从15岁到18岁，我痛恨自己成为我讨厌的东西：一个恶霸。
When I was 19, I wrote, "I will love myself despite the ease with which I lean toward the opposite."
当我19岁的时候，我写道：“我会爱自己，尽管我倾向于相反的感觉。”
Standing up for yourself doesn't have to mean embracing violence.
为自己站起来并不意味着要拥抱暴力。
When I was a kid, I traded in homework assignments for friendship, then gave each friend a late slip for never showing up on time, and in most cases, not at all. I gave myself a hall pass to get through each broken promise. And I remember this plan, born out of frustration from a kid who kept calling me "Yogi," then pointed at my tummy and said, "Too many picnic baskets." Turns out it's not that hard to trick someone, and one day before class, I said, "Yeah, you can copy my homework," and I gave him all the wrong answers that I'd written down the night before. He got his paper back expecting a near-perfect score, and couldn't believe it when he looked across the room at me and held up a zero. I knew I didn't have to hold up my paper of 28 out of 30, but my satisfaction was complete when he looked at me, puzzled, and I thought to myself, "Smarter than the average bear, motherfucker."
当我还是个孩子的时候，我把家庭作业交给了朋友，然后给了每个朋友一个迟到的机会，因为他们从来没有准时出现过，而且在大多数情况下，根本没有。我给自己一个大厅通过，以打通每一个破碎的承诺。我记得这个计划，是从一个一直叫我“瑜伽士”的孩子的挫折中生出来的，然后指着我的肚子说，“太多的野餐篮了。”事实证明，欺骗一个人并不是那么难，在课前一天，我说，“是的，你可以抄我的作业，”我给了他所有我在前一天晚上写下来的错误答案。他把自己的试卷拿回来，希望有一个近乎完美的分数，当他看着我的房间，举起一个零的时候，他简直不敢相信。我知道我不需要把我的28岁的报纸拿出来，但是当他看着我时，我的满意是完全的，我对自己说，“比一般的熊更聪明，狗娘养的。”
(Laughter)
（笑声）
(Applause)
（掌声）
This is who I am. This is how I stand up for myself.
这就是我。这就是我为自己站起来的方式。
When I was a kid, I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing. I thought they were both pork chops. My grandmother thought it was cute, and because they were my favorite, she let me keep doing it. Not really a big deal. One day, before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees, I fell out of a tree and bruised the right side of my body. I didn't want to tell my grandmother because I was scared I'd get in trouble for playing somewhere I shouldn't have been. The gym teacher noticed the bruise, and I got sent to the principal's office. From there, I was sent to another small room with a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home. I saw no reason to lie. As far as I was concerned, life was pretty good. I told her, whenever I'm sad, my grandmother gives me karate chops.
当我还是个孩子的时候，我常常认为猪排和空手道是同一回事。我以为他们都是猪排。我的祖母认为这是可爱的，因为他们是我的最爱，她让我继续这样做。没什么大不了的。有一天，在我意识到胖孩子不是为了爬树而设计的，我从树上掉下来，撞到了我身体的右侧。我不想告诉我的祖母，因为我害怕我会在我不该去的地方玩。体操老师注意到了瘀伤，我被送到校长办公室。从那里，我被送到另一个小房间，一个非常好的女士问我关于我的生活在家里的各种各样的问题。我认为没有理由撒谎。就我而言，生活很好。我告诉她，每当我伤心的时候，我的祖母就会给我空手道。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
This led to a full-scale investigation, and I was removed from the house for three days, until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises. News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school, and I earned my first nickname: Porkchop. To this day, I hate pork chops.
这导致了一个全面的调查，我被从房子里搬了三天，直到他们最后决定问我是怎么弄伤的。这个无聊的小故事很快就传遍了学校，我的第一个昵称是：猪排。到今天为止，我讨厌猪排。
I'm not the only kid who grew up this way, surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us, that we'd be lonely forever, that we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their toolshed. So broken heartstrings bled the blues, and we tried to empty ourselves so we'd feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone, that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away, that there's no way for it to metastasize; it does.
我不是唯一一个这样长大的孩子，周围的人常说，关于棍棒和石头的韵律，好像骨折比我们得到的名字更伤人，我们都叫他们了所以我们长大了，相信没有人会爱上我们，我们会永远孤独，我们永远不会遇见一个让我们觉得太阳是他们在他们的工具棚里为我们建造的东西。所以心碎的心流下了忧郁，我们试着清空自己，所以我们什么也感觉不到。不要告诉我受伤的骨头比骨头还小，那是外科医生能割掉的东西，没有办法转移；它确实是。
She was eight years old, our first day of grade three when she got called ugly. We both got moved to the back of class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitballs. But the school halls were a battleground. We found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day. We used to stay inside for recess, because outside was worse. Outside, we'd have to rehearse running away, or learn to stay still like statues, giving no clues that we were there. In grade five, they taped a sign to the front of her desk that read, "Beware of dog."
她八岁，我们三年级的第一天，她被称为丑。我们都被转移到了教室的后面，这样我们就不会被喷球轰炸了。但学校大厅是一个战场。在悲惨的一天之后，我们发现自己的人数超过了一天。我们过去一直呆在里面休息，因为外面更糟。在外面，我们必须排练逃跑，或学会保持像雕像一样，没有线索，我们在那里。在五年级时，他们在她的书桌前贴了一个牌子，上面写着“当心狗”。
To this day, despite a loving husband, she doesn't think she's beautiful, because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half her face. Kids used to say, "She looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't quite get the job done." And they'll never understand that she's raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word "Mom," because they see her heart before they see her skin, because she's only ever always been amazing.
直到今天，尽管她有一个充满爱的丈夫，但她并不认为自己很漂亮，因为她脸上的胎记少了一半。孩子们常说：“她看起来像一个错误的答案，有人试图抹掉，但不能完全完成工作。”他们永远也不会明白，她养育了两个孩子，他们对美的定义始于“妈妈”这个词，因为他们在看到她的皮肤之前就看到了她的心，因为她永远都是令人惊讶的。
He was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree, adopted, not because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy, started therapy in eighth grade, had a personality made up of tests and pills, lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs, four-fifths suicidal, a tidal wave of antidepressants, and an adolescent being called "Popper," one part because of the pills, 99 parts because of the cruelty. He tried to kill himself in grade 10 when a kid who could still go home to Mom and Dad had the audacity to tell him, "Get over it." As if depression is something that could be remedied by any of the contents found in a first-aid kit.
他是一个被嫁接到不同家庭树上的断枝，不是因为他的父母选择了不同的命运。他三岁时就成了一个单独的混合饮料和两个部分的悲剧，在八年级开始治疗，有一个由测试和药丸组成的性格，生活得像是山，山下是悬崖，五分之四是自杀，一股抗抑郁的浪潮，一个青少年被称为“波普尔”，一部分是因为药物，99部分是因为残忍。他在10年级时试图自杀，当时一个还可以回家的孩子竟然胆敢对他说：“忘掉这件事吧。”就像在急救箱里发现的任何东西一样，抑郁是可以补救的。
To this day, he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends, could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moment before it's about to fall, and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration, he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes being drug-free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity.
这一天，他是一根从两端都点燃的木棍，可以向你详细描述一下在即将坠落之前的天空弯曲的方式，尽管有一大群朋友都称他为“灵感”，但他仍然是一个人们之间的谈话片段，他们有时无法理解“吸毒”与“上瘾”的关系，而更多的是与“理智”有关。
We weren't the only kids who grew up this way. To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey, stupid," "Hey, spaz." Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. And if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just background noise from a soundtrack stuck on repeat, when people say things like, "Kids can be cruel." Every school was a big top circus tent, and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies, all of these miles ahead of who we were. We were freaks -- lobster-claw boys and bearded ladies, oddities juggling depression and loneliness, playing solitaire, spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal, but at night, while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice, and yes, some of us fell.
我们不是唯一一个这样长大的孩子。直到今天，孩子们仍然被称为名字。经典是“嘿，笨蛋，”“嘿，Spaz。”似乎每个学校都有每年更新的名字。如果一个孩子在学校里休息，周围没有人愿意听，他们会发出声音吗？当人们说“孩子们可能是残酷的”时，他们只是从一个被重复的原声中发出的背景噪音。每一所学校都是一个巨大的顶级马戏团帐篷，从杂技演员到驯狮者，从小丑到卡尼，都是在我们之前的几英里。我们是怪胎--龙虾爪男孩和有胡子的女士，古怪的杂耍和孤独，玩纸牌，旋转瓶子，试图亲吻自己受伤的部分和愈合，但在晚上，而其他人睡觉，我们一直走钢丝。这是练习，是的，我们中的一些人跌倒了。
But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris left over when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be, and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer, because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself, "They were wrong." Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show-and-tell, but never told, because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong. They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be here?
但我想告诉他们，所有这些都只是剩下的碎片，当我们最终决定粉碎我们曾经认为的一切，如果你看不到自己的美丽，找一个更好的镜子，再近一点，再凝视一点，因为你内心有一种东西让你不断尝试，尽管每个人都告诉你要放弃。你建立了一个围绕你的破碎的心，并签署它自己，“他们是错误的。”因为也许你不属于一个团体或集团。也许他们决定选择你最后一个篮球或一切。也许你曾经带着伤痕和破碎的牙齿来展示和讲述，但从来没有告诉过，因为如果你周围的每个人都想把你埋在下面，你怎么能坚持你的立场呢？你必须相信他们错了。他们一定是错了。不然我们为什么还会在这里？
We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway, and if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It, not the faded echoes of voices crying out, "Names will never hurt me." Of course they did.
我们从小就学会了为失败者加油，因为我们看到了自己。我们植根于一种信念，相信我们并不是我们所称的。我们并不是被遗弃的汽车，在某些公路上停了下来，坐着，如果在某种程度上我们是，别担心。我们只是出去走走，加油。我们毕业的同学是我们班上的同学，不是那褪色的回声，呼喊着：“名字永远不会伤害我。”当然了。
But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.
但我们的生活将永远是一种平衡的行为，与痛苦无关，更与美有关。
(Applause)
（掌声）