I once had a man spread rumors about me having AIDS. I of course don’t have AIDS or HIV and I am thankful for that, but I was in high school so the rumors made their way around.

He was an ex boyfriend who was slighted that I had moved on with a man he had previously fought with, a fact I wasn’t aware of until the rumors began.

Naturally I tried to ignore the rumors but after a while, and testing, if only to prove to myself I was fine, I decided to shut him up.

At first I thought I would handle it on my own but then I realized I had mechanisms at my disposal and I was better off using them.

I gathered a few guys I knew and piled them into a wagon along with my ex’s female cousin, who wanted to witness the fight because she believed him to be deserving of it. The only one who swung that day was me.

Approaching his home with a group behind me, he wrapped a towel around his knuckles in preparation to strike but what he didn’t realize was that they were only there as back up, I wanted to cause him pain myself.

After getting into his face he started to back up, afraid of making the first move. Then he tripped on the curb and fell beneath me, it was perfect. I told him, “If I have AIDS then here you go…” and proceeded to take the web of my hand between my thumb and pointer finger and bite into it so hard I bled, and swung my blood onto his face. It was thrilling. His father swung the front door open with a bat in his hand and we all dispersed.

The uglier side of my human nature is something that I look back on in disbelief. Things I am capable of in a moment of rage shock many. But it isn’t until I’ve looked back on something that it shocks even me. Violence is passed down, but when is it our responsibility to end the cycle?