Stereotypical

by xTSGx

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Tragedy
Length: 1844

I've heard all the insults, and every one has only furthered my sadness. Why? All because of my fur

I've heard them all: “unoriginal”, “unlikable”, “lacking”, “bland”, “autodislike”, “common”, “nothing but a train wreck”. Every insult only serving to further my sadness and loneliness. Why? All because of my fur color.

Published 2012-09-25 03:34:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-25 03:34:01 UTC

The Lone Chapter

Copyright © 2012. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is owned by Hasbro. Cover image created using generalzoi's Pony Creator.

Version 1.0

A stereotype is a belief that may be adopted about specific types of individuals or certain ways of doing things, but that belief may or may not accurately reflect reality.

—Wikipedia. (Italics added.)

Looking at the environment I was raised in, you would think I would end up pretty well off. I was born in Canterlot, to a family of moderate income. My parents loved and cherished me like any parents should. Not to sound specist, but I was born a unicorn, which has certain advantages over the other species. There was just one thing—one big thing—that would define and shape my life. I was born with dark red fur and a black mane.

To my parents, it wasn't a big deal. After all, ponies are born with all sorts of crazy colors. Pink, blue, orange, green—you name it. But to everypony else, I was different. For some reason, they thought I was bland or unoriginal. They scrutinized me, teased me, hated me. All because of my fur.

When I was very young, I didn't cared. I played with the other foals my age who were as ignorant and blissful as I was. How I desperately miss those days. The innocence of youth shielded me from the furrowed brows, uncomfortable stares, and hateful words the adults and older foals would give me and my parents. But as my age group got older, I was forced into confronting those brows, stares, and words; which were now coming from those who I thought were my friends.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you my name. It would seem rude to talk to you but not have you know who's the one talking. Open Cluster—my parents were astronomers who worked for the Royal Office of, well, Astronomy—is my name. Like my fur, it seems nice, but it would be used against me.

It all started in Magic Kindergarten, not all that surprising considering even the Princess's student is terrified of the place (or at least, that's what the rumors say). Things started normal and I even began to enjoy school but, as is the case in any school, there was a bully. Conceivable Criteria (or “Con Crit” as he insisted)—a name so ridiculous it makes “Shining Armor” seem tame by comparison—a vicious foal who tried to rise above everypony else. If he has been the only one, it wouldn't have been all that bad. Time heals all wounds, after all, but no amount of time can, if the wounds are constantly reopened.

As the weeks dragged on, more and more foals joined Con Crit in his antagonizing. “OC, OC, always will be blandsy” they would chant at me during recess. It doesn't sound all that bad now, but to a five year old foal, it was devastating. The teachers, always ignorant of the bullying, contributed in their own way. Their criticisms of my shortcomings were always brutal and stinging. Anything I would write or draw was called “uninspired” or “lacking”. Needless to say, it severely effected my grades and don't even get me started on the self esteem issues.

As I got older, eventually, the rhymes gave way to open insults. “You'll never amount to anything!” “You're bucking useless!”. The insults soon gave way to pushing and shoving. Confrontation was almost a daily thing and Con Crit was still, years after Magic Kindergarten, the leader of the bullies.

My parents were worn and tired. As I experienced the bullying, they experienced ostracization. If there's one criticism of Equestria's Capital that is wholly accurate, it's that it's a slimy elitist cesspit filled with morally bankrupt nobles who wouldn't bat an eye to one of the species going extinct if it didn't affect them. That elitism has, like a malignant cancer, spread to all walks of life in the city—save the Princesses.

Because of that, they were looked down upon and shunned by almost everypony in the Royal Office of Astronomy for having a unicorn with that fur. The only ones who didn't were the higher ups. Probably because they were too scared to, lest word reach Celestia. Dealing with a daughter who was constantly getting in trouble and the pressures of their job grew too great and they requested a transfer to Fillydelphia, which was granted.

Both me and my parents thought things would be different in Fillydelphia. After all, the city doesn't possess the same elitism that Canterlot does and it is known as the “city of brotherly love”. Things did improve for my parents but continued to deteriorate for me. The one saving grace of Canterlot was the Princess. I believed the only reason she was in that city was to prevent that cancer from spreading to the rest of the country. She acted as a check on all the city's problems. It's no wonder she wasn't able to defeat the Changelings or save the Crystal Empire, she had to spend all her time and energy preventing Canterlot from rotting the rest of Equestria. It was just one belief, of the many, that I was wrong about.

Without the Princess to serve as that vital check, the adults laid bare their harsh words and stinging rebuttals. “You're life's nothing but a train wreck.” “You're so very original, aren't you?” “You should just die so you don't drag things down.” At least that one was heard by the School Superintendent, who fired half the school staff over it for their failures.

Mercifully, school ended and I started my adult life. Problems, however, had only just begun. I needed to get a job. My cutie mark (three gold stars) symbolized the same love of the stars that my parents had. Sadly, no pony wanted somepony like me to have a job. They thought I would be “uncreative” or would somehow force my will upon the costumer or other employees. After much searching, I was finally able to get one as an apprentice to an old telescope maker. He was color blind and so, lacked the discrimination that so many others had given me.

It was like a breath of fresh air in a stale room. Somepony who didn't care about my fur and only judged me by my personality and not the personality they thought I had. Like the days of my young foalhood, those precious years as his apprentice I will cherish more then any metal or jewel. It brightened my life and made me hopeful for the future.

Then, he died. He had been old when I started so it really wasn't all that surprising, but it hit me like a train. I suffered a minor breakdown. I became desperate for the kind of social interaction that he had provided. Ponies, however, wouldn't even take the time to try to get to know me. One look at the red fur, and the black mane and they would dismiss me as not worth their time or effort.

I decided to move to Manehattan. I was hoping that, with a population that large, I would be able to blend in. Even in Manehattan, the very same problems that plagued me in Canterlot and Fillydelphia continued. I tried to be different—tried to be wild and spontaneous—in the vain hope that ponies wouldn't dismiss me for my unoriginality or blandness. This only served to further distance them from me. Now, instead of “unoriginal”, I became “unrealistic”. The one saving grace was my business. While no pony wanted to buy a product from me in person, plenty bought via the mail and my telescopes became extremely popular.

“Why,” you may ask, “didn't you simply dye your fur?” In desperation, I did that very thing. It seems like an easy solution to a difficult problem, but it was far from easy. Dyes were very expensive and a pain to apply and reapply. Grooming would become a daily chore, as I had to be careful when brushing and cleaning my fur, lest the dye wear out too quickly.

It worked. Soon, interaction with Manehattan's denizens was as easy as it was with the young foals of old. I made friends and my business became more then a simple mail order. But it was horrible. It was horrible knowing that my friends didn't like me for who I was but for what I was. That they, and the rest of the city, were just as shallow as those in Canterlot. That Princess Celestia had failed yet again, this time in preventing the cancer from spreading. Despite my social life improving, I sank into deeper depression.

I finally had enough. I stopped using the dyes and confronted my friends. Before they could react, and give me those harsh stares and hate-filled words I was so accustomed to, I left. I sold my business and, just like Canterlot and Fillydelphia before, fled Manehattan.

I decided there was only one place left for me to go: Ponyville, a small town located several miles from the nightmare on the side of Mount Crumpit that is Canterlot. I had hoped, one again, that things would be different. That a town which held the Elements of Harmony—you know, the things that require friendship and love to work—would be filled with the same love that the Elements had. Like before, I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

It's been worse then anything I have ever experienced before. The horrible, invidious stares put any looks Con Crit or the other school bullies gave me to shame. They hold hushed conversations that I can tell are directed at me. They run and hide—they hide—from me. I've quickly begun to regret my decision to leave Manehattan. My friends may have been shallow and petty; they may have judged my fur first and then my personality later like so many others, but at least they were my friends. I have started another mail order telescope business that's blossomed like the one before it.

“What about the Elements?” you ask, “Surely they've befriended you.” It is bizarre. The six mares that make up the Elements have almost no interaction with the other townsfolk. They've formed their own little niche and everypony else is secondary. It is like they are in the foreground while everypony else has been relegated to the background. Despite their seeming myopia to everypony else, they are the only ones, save a few of their friends, who don't treat me like all the others have. Who don't cringe and give me scornful looks. Miss Sparkle's my only in-person customer.

So here I am yet again. Yet again ready to pack it in, to give up, to run to another town only to find the malignant cancer already there, to see the hateful glares when I arrive. Maybe that teacher really was right. Maybe I should just die. I'm just scared of what kind of stares I'll get after I do.

The End