I wasn’t picked on too much as a child. Only a few times here and there. In preschool, there were these two older kids (a boy and a girl) who loved to accuse me of random stuff while we waited in line for our parents. “She said you called her Freckle Nose!” the boy got in my face. That is the only specific accusation I recall, but this was a daily occurrence with these guys. Seriously, that’s all they did. Stand there and yell accusations at me. (Side note: The girl I supposedly called Freckle Nose didn’t even have freckles. If I were to call someone a name, I’d at least make it an accurate one. I may have been four, but I wasn't no fool).
I remember telling my mom about them in the car one day, except I felt the situation on its own didn’t carry enough weight to warrant the desired reaction, so I embellished. “She slapped me!” I declared, conjuring up a sense of righteous indignation. My mom pulled the car over. She turned around to look at me. “Okay, if she slapped you in the face, we’re turning around and talking to the principal,” she said. The principal. I did not sign up for that. I associated “principal” with death for some reason. “Okay okay never mind no she didn’t I made it up!” I blurted out. I guess my mom thought I’d made these kids up entirely, so we never discussed them again.
I decided that the best way to face them was just to blankly stare at them while they yelled at me. I never got emotional or fought back. Just stared. I guess they got bored (or creeped out) because one day they stopped.
Two years later, there was a girl in my first grade class who would sit across from me and make mean comments. She would call me names and throw things at me (mind you, I was a head taller and could have kicked her ass, had I thought of it at the time). Same thing, I would just stare back. Honestly, fighting back never crossed my mind. Except when it did.
One day in music class, she came to sit next to me, a sneer on her face. All at once, I decided that no, no she could not sit next to me in the circle. It was kazoo day and dammit, I was going to have fun. She turned to sit, and in one swift move I pulled the seat out from underneath her. She started crying and the teacher got on to me. I felt a fierce sense of injustice as the teacher gave me the eye. I’d finally stood up for myself, and here I was getting in trouble. But here’s the thing: the girl never messed with me again. Worth it? Uh, yeah.
Other than those few instances, bullying was never a big issue in my life. And yet, there have still been times when I should have advocated for myself, but didn’t. Maybe I didn’t know how. I’ve always been an observer, a listener. Speaking is different. This is one I’m not sure I can explain, it just is. Speaking is different. Which makes it difficult to speak up.
When I was a kid in my mom’s car, I spoke because I wanted validation and protection. I wanted those kids to stop. It turns out, all I had to do was stare. For the lil bitch in my first grade class, I never had to say a word. I just pulled her chair out from under her ass and then picked what color kazoo I wanted. All the instances where I stood up for myself were nonverbal.
Unfortunately, this tactic only gets one so far. Sure, there have been times where a good stare or eyebrow raise gets the job done. But sometimes, speaking is a necessity. I'm fortunate to have a life filled with wonderful friends and family and coworkers. Occasionally, there is a bully in the midst.
What is it with adults who bully? I get that kids feel insecure, unsafe, unloved, unstable. But what about adults? Is it the same for them? Insecure, unsafe, unloved, unstable. Part of me really feels for them, empathizes with them, wants to validate them. The other part of me wants to say Tough Shit. You've had your whole life to face these problems and feelings head on, and whether or not you choose to is up to you. Regardless of your misery, there's never an excuse to abuse or pick on another person. Deal with your problems on your own time and leave me out of it. Part of me wants to say that, really say it. The toxicity of these people is astonishing. They drain you, make you question your sanity, your worth, your capabilities. Sometimes, one has no other choice but to get out and away.
I've heard people say that bullies never change, that it's all they'll ever be. I'm not sure if that's true or not. But I know one thing is for sure: I refuse to stand by long enough to find out.
