1988 film Heathers painted a pretty clear image of bullies, but that was before the internet and social media running our lives. Bullying reached a new level of painful now. People young and old just sit back, watch and let it happen. Why? What makes someone a bully?
At five years old I had no idea what a bully is, until one hot summer day in kindergarten when our teacher filled the kiddie-pool with a garden hose to cool off all the kids. Everyone got undressed joyfully jumping into the water; everyone, that is, except me. The kids were naked, screaming, laughing, splashing around kicking their feet, butt naked. They made it look like a lot of fun, but I was too shy to dance around in my birthday suit. Seated poolside in my frilly pink panties I had second thoughts, yet, after some time had passed I thought, when in Rome ...
I slipped off my panties I got into the pool with others. Just as I thought the water was freezing and I wanted out. I made my move to leave, but Stephanie noticed me. This tall, freckle faced, red headed troll, who looked like she sucked on a lemon dawn to dusk was mean as a snake! As soon as she saw me she flew at me, pushing hard against my chest with both hands, until I fell on my bare ass. The concrete didn’t hurt as much as my sweet pride. I was naked, discouraged and embarrassed.
Our teacher was my best friend Danielle's mom. When she saw what happened, she immediately scolded Stephanie, but by doing so she just put another log on the fire. "Sure you can join in!" she said to me, with her beautiful sweet smile. However, I was no longer interested in playing any raindeer games. I wanted to go home. To my teacher, observing a kiddie-pool frenzy and a few screaming happy kids pushing one another around is nothing more than a small incident during work day. To the five year old being pushed out of the pool it’s a world crumbling down.
Stephanie often picked on me. She loved to boss people around, but she had it in for me more than anyone else. I made her feel stupid. I was smarter than her while two years younger. I could read and write. Stephanie hated me for that. She was almost seven years old and could barely draw an 'S' In second grade things got a lot worse. She put the blame on me every chance she could. One day, Stephanie and a group of kids were running circles around the Christmas tree we all decorated with our teacher. One of the kids brushed up against the tree and an ornament broke. I was in my seat reading a book. Stephanie turned toward me shouting: "We’ll just say she did it!" I looked around the room, oblivious to what just happened and shocked, asking: "What?"
When the teacher returned wondering what the noise is all about, Stephanie blamed me for the broken ornament. I told the teacher the truth, but she had no reason to believe me, because five other kids backed up Stephanie’s story. Like me, they were all afraid of her. Naturally, I was asked to replace the ornament. I had to tell my parents about the incident. I was worried, but to my surprise, my mom believed me. None the less, she purchased a new ornament all the same. One thing that changed that day is that I suddenly had a lot more friends. I stood up to Stephanie when I defended myself in the classroom. Everyone disliked her for what she did; she forced them to lie. I understood why my mother replaced the ornament and in time I grew into a strong individual. I took up martial arts, the only sport that teaches grace honor and discipline and I stuck with it for twenty five years. I also became a writer and an interpreter, content with knowing how to take out my angst on paper. Stephanie is a divorced alcoholic. I hope that at the very least, she is a kinder person today and she's able to cope with her addictions.
Although I too had been bullied as a little girl, in sixth grade I was only half way there with integrity. I went to class with a small framed, impressionable and very vulnerable girl. She was definitely not a Heather, perhaps not even a Veronica who would stand up to her bullies. This girl was a Betty Finn. Lacking confidence, among many other things, Betty was bullied by everyone in school. She was not a straight A student, not the best dresser by far and she was never popular only in a negative way. Her hair was short and a little lopsided, she always had too much lipstick on her lips and she was too shy to speak, which only made things worse for her when she muttered her soft spoken "stop!"
The one thing this girl had going for her was a good heart. Deep down everyone in class knew that she was kind, yet everyone continued to bully her. This all took place before the invention of the Internet. It was lucky for her I suppose, as I honestly believe if our Betty was virtually teased on top of all she had endured she may have even considered taking her own life. I was no better than the others. Although I never teased her, I laughed when others laughed.
Doing nothing is just as bad. I’m not proud of it. I could have been her friend, but I never was. I look back now wondering how this poor girl must have felt each day with twenty boys and nineteen girls making fun of her three hundred sixty five days a year. Somehow, everyday she began her school day with a smile. I was astonished. It is how I remember her. How did she do it? Where did she find the strength to smile? I often wonder what must have been like for her at home. What if on top of everything happening in school she also had difficulties at home? What if her family ignored her or what if they were unkind to her? What if her parents called her names? What if she was beaten or neglected?
Betty had many crushes in school. Crushes no one took seriously. As if her feelings didn’t matter at all. She would bring the boy candy or a chocolate bar and soon, all the boys pretended to be in love with her. They asked for sweets and sometimes even money. She delivered. She loved the attention. It was all fake attention, followed by a lot of ridicule and laughter. None of us ever said a thing to stop this. We were all amused at her expense. At times Betty was drenched in tears. One time, I saw her hide her hands under her desk so no one could see that they were shaking. I never laughed from that day onward.Decades later, I am left with a bad feeling and whenever I think of her, the bad thoughts just won’t go away. I have great memories of my grade school years, but Betty has none.
Teenagers feel as if the world revolves around them and their circle of friends. What their friends think matters more than what’s right. We are all impressionable and vulnerable. We all need to find a way lift the heavy things in life.These days, I am not afraid to voice my opinion, even if the entire world is against me and I can fight my own battles with words as well as physically. I stand up for what's right offering my efforts to animal welfare and women rights seeking justice mankind. I defend my convictions and I stand accountable for my own actions. When I’m wrong, I apologize. I have learned to do this immediately, to show the person asking for an apology that I truly care. I follow one simple rule of - think before you write or speak - because we all make mistakes, but when a mistake is so huge it can change or end a person’s life, self-evaluation, responsibility and accountability are in order. A frivolous, painful, mean remark can mean a lifetime of regret. I am certain I would be a lot happier if I could look back on my childhood days able to say I never bullied anyone. I know right from wrong and I have learned to listen to that little voice inside, called conscience. Heathers do despicable ugly things, Veronicas are impressionable, but have guts to do what's right. Be better than them by being your true self.
No comments:
Post a Comment