Shane Koyczan didn’t just write a poem. He cracked something open. Honestly, if you were on the internet in 2013, you probably remember the first time you saw the animated video for the To This Day poem. It was everywhere. It wasn't just another viral trend that died out in a week; it was a collective exhale for everyone who grew up feeling like they were "wrong" somehow.
Bullying is a weird thing to talk about because we usually treat it like a playground phase. We act like it’s something you just "get over" once you graduate. But Koyczan’s work challenged that. He showed that the names we're called when we're eight years old stay in our marrow. They become part of our internal monologue.
The Origin Story of a Viral Masterpiece
Shane Koyczan is a Canadian spoken word artist. Before the To This Day poem became a global phenomenon, he was already a heavyweight in the slam poetry scene, even performing at the opening ceremony of the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics. But this specific piece was different. It was personal. It was painful.
The project started as a collaboration. Koyczan reached out to the creative community, and dozens of animators volunteered their time to bring the stanzas to life. Each segment of the video has a different visual style, which is part of why it feels so chaotic and raw—just like childhood memory.
The poem focuses on three main narratives. There’s the boy who was mistaken for a victim of child abuse because he didn't know what a "pork chop" was (it was Shane himself). There’s the girl with the birthmark on her face who grew up believing she was ugly. And there’s the kid who struggled with depression before we really had the vocabulary to help him.
What People Get Wrong About Bullying
Most anti-bullying campaigns are, frankly, pretty bad. They’re clinical. They tell you to "just tell a teacher" or "ignore them."
The To This Day poem works because it acknowledges that "ignoring them" is impossible when the insults are being shouted into your ear every single day. Koyczan talks about the "sticking power" of words. He uses this incredible metaphor about how we aren't just the things people call us, but we often become the things we believe about ourselves.
It’s about the long tail of trauma.
When we talk about the To This Day poem, we’re talking about the transition from victimhood to survival. It’s not a happy-go-lucky "it gets better" speech. It’s more of a "you’re still here, and that’s a miracle" acknowledgement.
The Science of Why Words Hurt
It sounds dramatic, but your brain doesn't really distinguish between a physical punch and a social rejection. Researchers like Naomi Eisenberger at UCLA have used fMRI scans to show that social rejection activates the same regions of the brain as physical pain—specifically the anterior cingulate cortex.
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When Koyczan says "words are like small bombs," he’s not being metaphorical in a biological sense. The stress response triggered by persistent verbal abuse can literally alter the development of the adolescent brain. This is why the poem resonates so deeply with adults. We aren't just remembering a bad day; we’re remembering a period of time where our nervous systems were under constant siege.
Why It Still Matters in the 2020s
You’d think that in a world with more "awareness," things would be better. They aren't. They're just different.
The bullying Shane describes was face-to-face. You could go home and, theoretically, be safe. Today, the kids who resonate with the To This Day poem carry their bullies in their pockets. Social media has turned the "sticking power" of words into a permanent, digital record.
But the poem offers a sort of secular grace. It suggests that if you can survive the names, you can eventually reclaim your own identity. It’s about the "beautiful" that exists beneath the scarring.
Technical Brilliance in Spoken Word
If you analyze the rhythm of the To This Day poem, it’s a masterclass in pacing. Koyczan uses a lot of internal rhyme and alliteration, but he breaks the meter constantly to land a heavy emotional blow.
- He starts fast, almost frantic, recounting the "pork chop" story.
- Then he slows down.
- The silence between the lines does as much work as the words themselves.
This isn't just "slam poetry." It’s a rhythmic exploration of grief. He uses "we" and "us" to pull the listener in, making the experience communal rather than solitary. You aren't just watching his pain; you're recognizing your own.
The Impact on Educators and Therapy
Since its release, the To This Day poem has been used in thousands of classrooms. It’s become a staple of social-emotional learning (SEL) curricula. Teachers use it to spark conversations that kids are usually too terrified to have.
Therapists often recommend it to patients dealing with C-PTSD or low self-esteem rooted in childhood. Why? Because it validates the "weirdness" of the pain. It tells the person that it’s okay to still be hurt by something that happened twenty years ago.
There is a specific line that always gets people: "If you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror."
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It’s simple. Kinda cheesy, maybe? But when you’re in the thick of a depressive episode or a spiral of self-loathing, that kind of direct, empathetic command is exactly what's needed. It shifts the burden from the victim to the environment. It says, you aren't the problem; the reflection you're being shown is the problem.
Actionable Steps for Reclaiming Your Story
If the To This Day poem hits home for you, watching it once and crying isn't the only thing you can do. There are actual ways to use the themes of the poem to heal.
Audit your internal monologue. Start noticing when you use the "names" your bullies gave you. If you mess up a task at work and your first thought is "I'm so stupid," recognize that this is a ghost from your past talking, not your present self.
Find your "Better Mirror." Surround yourself with people who see the version of you that you’re too afraid to believe in. This might mean setting boundaries with family members who still treat you like the "weird kid."
Express the "Ugly." Koyczan used poetry. You don't have to be a world-class writer. Journaling, drawing, or even just talking to a friend about the specific memories that still sting can take the power away from those "small bombs."
Practice radical self-compassion. Acknowledge that surviving a difficult childhood is a legitimate achievement. You didn't just "grow up." You made it through a gauntlet.
The To This Day poem remains a touchstone because it refuses to lie to us. It doesn't say the world is kind. It says the world can be cruel, but you are allowed to be "an echo that refuses to fade." That is the ultimate act of defiance.
Revisit the video. Read the text again. Let it remind you that your "broken heart" is actually a testament to how much you were willing to feel in a world that tried to make you numb.