Song: Nickleback - How You Remind Me

List of memories:

• Being invited to go to summer camp by a friend with her church
• We stayed in these apartments with some older girls, who inspected our bags when we got there, I wasn't really sure what they were expecting to find. This lack of trust was new to me.
• Being pulled out of worship by one of these older girls, in front of everyone, because of my t-shirt
• I didn't even understand what the shirt meant, and no one took the time to explain it to me. My mom had bought it, how could it be bad?
• Bully baptism around the pool

Essay:

The summer I was 13 Abercrombie and Fitch was all the rage. I remember dragging my mom to the local mall, and spending my allowance money on one T-shirt at a time. It was all I could afford because they were so expensive. These T-shirts with their cheeky sayings that went right over my head were well above my age-level. All I knew was that I felt really cool wearing them with my jean skirt and birkenstock sandals. I felt like I was "in".

That summer I was invited by a friend from school to attend summer camp with her at her church. This was an overnight weekend trip, with the big Baptist church in town. I reluctantly agreed to join her, not having a clue what I was about to get myself into. Hundreds of kids met outside the mamoth church building and boarded motorcoaches that would take us to the local beach for the weekend.

We were each assigned to a beach apartment for the weekend, that included two older girls who would be our counselors, mentors, and closest confidants for the weekend. Looking back now, these girls couldn't have been any older than 15, but they were upstanding members of the church, and had been assigned to lead us away from temptation throughout the weekend.

As soon as we walked into our apartment they made me open up my Vera Bradley duffle bag so that they could inspect it for contraband. What they expected to find was a mystery to me, but I obliged, not wanting to ruffle feathers with these older "cooler" girls.

The weekend was formatted similarly to all Evangelical church camps in the early 2000's. We had quiet time on the beach in the mornings, followed by worship where scores of kids would throw their hands high in the air in praise, and many would be overcome with emotion and break down in tears. There were some fun moments playing in the pool and beach in the afternoons, and those hours made me feel like any other teenager enjoying her summer.

During worship service on the second day, we were all standing up singing the latest pop-Christian hit, when I was tapped on the shoulder by one of the adults and asked to leave. I was so confused. What had I done wrong? My counselor led me up to our apartment, where she told me I'd have to change immediately. Wearing clothes "like those" was banned at our church camp, and did not honor God.

My shirt? Everyone is wearing these shirts I thought looking down at my maroon Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt. "Co-Ed Flag Football League. Skins vs. Skins" it read. As a 13-year-old, I truly had no idea what that even meant. My mom had bought me this shirt, how could it be bad? All I knew was that I had been hummiliated in front of the entire camp, and made to feel like I was unworthy by my older cooler counselor who I wanted to badly to impress.

I quickly changed clothes and was allowed to go back to the worship service. The rest of the weekend went by in a blur clouded by guilt and shame.

At the end of the weekend they sat all the campers around an enourmous pool with our feet dangling in the water. The pastor of the church stood in the middle, robed in white, and declaring that the time had come for us all to repent of our sins and be baptized. Who would be the first sinner to jump in the water? He walked around the edge of the pool while teenager after teenager jumped into the pool to be baptized. As fewer and fewer of us remained, he really turned the heat up, staring each of us in the eyes, and asking if were prepared for eternal damnation.

I didn't jump into the pool that weekend, I was one of the few kids who refused. Baptism by bullies, I learned, isn't really my thing.