Here it is: how I got Horrible Histories banned from my school.
Sit down, Iâm going to tell you a story.
Imagine a little girl, a 4â9â fifth grader with dimples and twinkling blue eyes. Oh, look, sheâs going to the school library. Perhaps sheâs going to rent Little Women, or read On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder!
Five minutes later, she exits the library holding a large stack of books called âHorrible Histories.â
And sheâs thumbing through one called âAngry Aztecs.â
Record scratch. Freeze frame.
Yup, thatâs me! The only history geek in a fifty mile radius. Living in Bumhicksville, Nowhere (name changed, but very accurate) is pretty terrible, and going to school at Caucasian Christian School of Goodness (again, a name change, but an apt description) is even worse. I snapped a bit while I was attending, due to the lack of permissible self-expression, but horrible histories were my guiding light.
Flash forward six months.
Our teacher wants us to do a history project about an ancient civilization. Since our curriculum is Eurocentricism.JPEG, most kids pick the Greeks or Romans (and completely skip over all of the good stuff, like orgies and gladiator fights) in their presentations.
I choose my favorite ancient civilization:
My teachers knew Iâd been reading Horrible Histories, but what they didnât know was that Iâd also been avidly reading all about Aztec mythology. I walk up to the front of the class, pull on a turquoise skull mask, and raise my arms to the sky.
My teacher goes sheet white.
I give my presentation and skip nothing. Nothing. Every detail of the sacrifices, every dirty, disgusting part.
It all culminates when I point to the calendar.
âItâs May!â I shout, my little girl voice rising an octave. My teacher looks like sheâs about to phone the police. âThe Aztecs called May Toxcatl.â
No one moves or breathed. I continue blithely.
âToxcatl was a month dedicated to the worship of the god of the night, Tezcatlipoca.â Iâm still going. Everyone is afraid. Marie, one of my classmates, looks like sheâs about to cry.
âTheyâd dress a brave warrior as the god all year, and at the end-â I pull the red streamers out from behind my display, shouting: âTheyâd sacrifice him!â
The kids shriek as the streamers of âbloodâ roll out across the floor.
The principal walked in, hearing the commotion, just in time for me to really get into character and shout âBLOOD FOR THE GOD OF THE NIGHT!â
And thatâs how Horrible Histories and all mentions of the Aztecs were banned from my school.
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