Bitterness, bullying, and breaking the circle.

I was one of the "lucky" ones. I was merely shunned, ignored, singled out and verbally assaulted. No one ever lay a hand on me, but, y'know what? The rhyme lied; words CAN hurt. If someone tells you every day that you're a worthless freak, you're going to believe it after a while.

Consequently, the only thing that kept me from trying to kill myself in high school was that I was terrified of pain. I didn't know much about how to bring about my own death, but I knew it would hurt. Dying? No problem. Pain? No, thanks. Bizarre, but, I'm still around, so I'll take it.

Anyone who believes that children are angelic innocents has never gone to school. Hell, even some of my home-schooled friends recognize kids are cruel torturers in training. We have to teach children that other people have feelings, too, and that those feelings matter, because otherwise they keep tormenting their peers, leaving these scars that can't ever fully heal, with no sense that their actions impacted anyone.

So thank you for this.

The rhyme lied; words CAN hurt.

Heck yes. I got beat up routinely in elementary school, but the name-calling still hurt. And in high school, I in no way envied the girls who had to suffer that endless, unpredictable, you-can't-even-give-up sort of harassment. At least, as a guy, if someone was laughing at me, I usually had a good idea of what it was they were laughing about. With girls, it seemed like it could be something different every day.

I had non-existent social skills in school (still don't have much), and was one of the weird, nerdy, reads-all-the-time kids. Yes, I got picked on a lot, though in grade school and middle school, there were also racial overtones to who got picked on and who did the bullying. Let's just say that the boys that came up and punched me for no reason and terrorized me in the halls were a different complexion than I. Does coming from a background of ancestral slavery, poverty and current discrimination excuse that behavior? I don't think so.

My parents later put me in private schools, where I had fewer problems. Yes, I was still a social outcast, but at least no one was trying to beat me up. I didn't have to carefully watch my backtrail and route home from school to be sure the bullies weren't waiting for me, I didn't live in constant fear of running into them in a hall with no teacher around.

Fast forward a few years; we moved down south and I started high school, whole new community, new classmates, etc. The bullying started up, this time with no racial overtones--just catty classmates. Only by now, I was nursing a lot of rage over having been afraid for years of my life, and resolved to not let it ever get like that again. When they pushed or shoved or hit me, I hit back, harder. (A handful of textbooks upside the head works wonders). When they tried to intimidate me in the gym, telling me they were going to "get" me, I told them to bring it on. I think that was the last time they messed with me; I was too mean and not a crying victim for it to be fun for them.

The scars I carried for years (and still carry) in the form of a hideously violent temper that flares into berserk rage whenever it seems like someone is trying to mess with my head or intimidate me. It cost me a few jobs, until I learned to not unleash my temper at work. It's probably damaged my marriage some, but we have survived.

As a side note: the potential I had to be a bully got nipped in the bud by one of the teaching Sisters at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic School when I was in 4th or 5th grade. I was part of a mob harassing some kid (for really stupid reasons I'm too embarrassed to admit to) who were called in front of that Sister and dressed down. I still remember how she told us that she was appalled to hear that we had been hitting and spitting on the child--didn't we know that was what the mob did to Jesus when he was being led to Calvary to be crucified? I about sank through the floor in humiliation at that--being equated with the blood-thirsty mob who crucified the Savior.

It worked. I never bullied or harassed another kid again.

I was never bullied.

I was certainly the weird kid, too smart for my own good, not possessed of great social skills. I had zero dates through high school (well, I think there was one that was arranged for me. Didn't get invited to a ton of parties, except the ones from youth groups or the school play where everyone was invited. No boyfriends until college.

But I was never bullied, never went in fear, never had to hide. Someone threatened to beat me up *once* in 7th grade, and that was the worst of it. I don't think I went to school with a bunch of saints, just normal decent people. It doesn't have to be inevitable, and no one should be allowed to assume it will. As in the case of rape, I think we need to provide resources and support for victims, but we also need to talk to perpetrators: don't do it. You don't have to. It's not expected, it's not OK and it's not normal to bully other kids, no matter how weird they are.

And since a large fraction of my schoolmates seem to be on FB, I think I'll go write a thank you.

I kept my 8th grade signature book. I was known for crying when teased. There are a bunch of entries in the book mentioning my crying. I say this because, as Frank Portman (MTX's Dr. Frank) has pointed out, bullies don't remember that they were bullies when it's been years in the past. It's not like I look at the book and remind myself who the jerks are. (The book was out of my hands for more than 30 years.) But I do remember, and it did get better.

people react like it's some sort of shock. Kids can be mean?

:nods: it shocks me that people don't think kids can be mean. selective memory and blind vision makes it so for them, imho.

I'm with Judi. They're not bullies, they're criminals.

Why are children allowed to get away with, and expected to weather, clearly illegal behavior, just because they're children? I'm not talking about giving eight-year-olds lifelong records as felons, but if there were clear, consistent punishments and a social stigma applied to kids who attack other kids, we could at least keep power and acclaim from being among their motives.

I imagine that these thugs' parents are often part of the issue, and in any case I'll bet those parents are a major barrier to a systemic solution. A boy in my elementary school beat me up a couple of times a week (for several *years*), threw me off the roof of his playhouse in his backyard, and pelted a 3-year-old with rocks, among many other charming things. This kid's parents would hear none of it: when presented with evidence and witnesses, they pronounced that he was, and I quote, their "little angel". Had anyone with public authority taken action against him, his parents would've made sure a lot of teachers and administrators wasted a lot of time on the effort, and they would've kept anyone else from wanting to repeat the experience.

By the time I was in third grade, I took it for granted that walking the short way home in winter would mean a mouthful of slush and headfirst, waist-deep burial in a snowbank, courtesy of the local thug patrol. Sometimes I did it anyway, taking off and hiding my glasses as I walked out of the school building, because sometimes it was faster and easier and less frightening to just let them beat the crap out of me than it was to try and avoid them. But it was okay because, you know, it built character. A twitchy, terrified, defeated sort of character, sure, but character.

The one time, the ONE time, someone got real, serious punishment for attacking me -- I'd stood up for myself on the playground, and a kid totally knocked me unconscious, blood everywhere (as Seanan says, sometimes, the bullies just win) -- it worked. He got suspended for three days, and where I went to school, that level of punishment was very, very rare. He never touched or bothered me again. Oddly, the kid didn't even seem to hold it against me later. I doubt that would usually be true, but even if he'd held a grudge, I would've been less afraid knowing that someone else would've actually cared if he hit me.

All that time wasted, learning and trying to hide.

Everyone at my high school knew that bullying happened. If you were a bully, you knew. If you were bullied, you knew.

You know, I think it was only reading this just now that made it click for me that I was bullied in middle school.

I was ostracized, harassed, teased, hounded, manipulated, and ignored until I was physically so ill I could not get out of bed in the morning. And yet because it (almost) never involved physical beating or explicit insults, I didn't think of it as bullying. I don't know what I thought of it as, other than just the way things were.

So there's another piece of making things better. Not only do we need to listen to the kids who are bullied and stand up for them, but we need to teach kids, and remember ourselves, that it's not always as obvious as being beaten up. Sometimes I think being beaten would have been easier; at least then I would have had bruises to point to as why I was hurting so much.

Nowadays, with the kind of permanent damage to someone's name and reputation a couple of cruel kids with a camera and net connection can inflict, I feel almost lucky that the thugs I knew growing up only beat up and insulted me.

I just want to tell you, I'm glad you made it through. I might not comment on everything, but i do read through your posts, and read some of them to my dad when i start giggling due to your cats' antics.. and yea. I can't imagine that not being so.

Also: If i knew you in high school, i woulda stood by your side and stood up for you. and i'm not just saying that either. I did it for a guy i barely knew who transferred in our senior year. Another guy was giving him a hard time, just asking him if he was gay. And the guy who transferred shrugged and wouldn't say one way or another. which caused the other guy to push more. I turned to him and said, "why? are you? Do you wanna date him? cause really, that's the only reason i can see for you wanting to know." which made the guy shut up and leave him alone before anything else happened.

just know, there are good people out there too. and yes. this needs to end. It needed to end long before it even got this far. It's just a problem since people are so closed minded about everything.

This is truth, and I'm glad you made it out alive and full of stories.

Thank you, for posting this.

My family removed me from public school at the close of third grade, when the ulcer chewing through my stomach prompted the family doctor to say "Whatever's making her sick is killing her. Make it stop."

My mother tried to hold on--to help me hold on, my brother, one of my older sisters--but a series of last straws happened. My stomach. The Rx's at adult doses to keep my body from eating itself. My second older sister suffering the same, as she was bullied in her middle school. My brother, who had to see me come home in tears, who helped me come out of the asthma attacks exacerbated by running away from the bullies in all sorts of weather, was the one who kept the bullies from beating my head in with a rock in a church parking lot a few blocks from school, who took the beating for me, and came home covered in sweat and rock dust and trembling with rage. He coaxed me out of a corner at home. I think he took a shower. Then my sixth grade student brother made us egg sandwiches, pet my hair while I cried, and told my mother a group of boys had tried to murder me. I spent most of the rest of the year crying in bed. At the end of the year, our mother took us three youngest kids out of school. Our whole family couldn't live with all that pain and suffering anymore.

It got better. But I can't ever forget how bad it was. Probably part of why I'm so devoted as a journalist to my job--to integrity and fairness and pointing out unequal situations.

Thank you for living through your pain, and being open about it, and telling beautiful stories. I read your books a lot on the bus on the way to work when I need some cheering up around the news.

I learned to hide to avoid the bullies. I learned not to speak up. Even now I'm ridiculously quiet, and socially stunted. I learned that my peer group hated me. I learned to play with the younger kids, and rather ironically, I still do. But they are my friends, more so than my classmates were ever my 'friends'. I love you, all my fandoms and fandom friends, for never hurting me. Thank you.

I have tears falling down my face. Thank you. And I agree something has to change. We need people to be stronger and protect those that are weaker. I know for me I always want to see kids safe and protected ,both from abusive adults and other kids.

I agree. I was crying as I wrote my comment.

Yes.

The more people that share the better chance of stopping it.

I wasn't bullied. Not in middle school. Not in elementary. I put up with some utter bullshit in high school and sadly enough it was not started by kids by two very specific adults. Parents of some kids I'd known all my life. Huh. I bet they don't think they were bullies. But they were. I got through it.

I had a tribe of people that read the same books that I did and would stand by me--I am lucky.

I can't say that I was a saint; I probably didn't stand up where I should have on more than one occasion. But I do now. I won't tolerate that kind of crap in the workplace and if I see little kids being little shits I will say something. To them, to the parents to the teachers. My kids are only in pre-school but this loud noise has prompted me to talk to the Ballerina and I'll keep a close eye on the Chunk. By sheer size, he has the chance to be a protector or a bully. i won't raise a bully. I truly hope that if my kids ever step down that road that someone will tell me. Just in case I'm too oblivious to see it. And heaven help them if they think bullying is ok.

Kids are not angels--though they can be good--but only if taught and encouraged. I promise to make that stand as I raise my kids. Promise.

To those who were bullied--I'm so sorry. I know that even the little slights over the years hurt me. I can't imagine what you all went through and I tell you again. I promise to stand up. To look for it. To see it. And I'm sorry if I didn't step in and defend.

PS. The Kate Harding post is AMAZING and I've been linked to it six ways to Sunday. I'm so glad that the people I seem to know are sharing this everywhere.

Thank you for this post.

I was bullied myself, from having to wear glasses, for being the new kid in school, for so many stupid reason that it taught me not to trust. I am always afraid that someone that I admire is going to make fun of me because I'm weirder than they are. I never dated in high school because I was too afraid that the boy was only asking either as a dare or so to humilate me in public. Having one's parents bullying you constantly to "be more like the more acceptable sibling" and said sibling bullying you because you're different from him didn't make home a refuge either. Even my "best friends" were not a refuge either. I sometimes got teased worse by those who I thought I could count on for understanding me. I understand what these people felt like because I have felt the same way. I'm just lucky that I did find an escape. Though it is still so hard to trust anyone, fully.

I do remember the time in sixth grade when all the boys in my class decided it would be the height of hilarity to each come up and propose marriage to me, just to see how I'd respond. (Well, and because as far as they were concerned, the idea of anyone actually wanting to marry me was patently ridiculous.)

And people wonder why being told I'm beautiful makes me squirm or wince or hide.

I hope you get a tiny bit of comfort from how succesful you are despite their attempts to grind you down. I truly believe that life is just like school; those same people are there, it's just under a thicker veneer of respectibility.

I always believe that bullies get their support from fear. People join in because they're scared that otherwise they'll be the target next time. Society seems to work the same way. I was quite lucky at school and managed to skim under the radar but on the times that I found myself the target it was miserable.

I've commented on the comments to this post, so it's only fair that I comment to the post itself.

You are awesome. Not only for your eloquence, but surviving to tell the tale.

Thank you for this post, for leaving it open, and for allowing non-friends to comment. Which is something that I'm going to remedy right now.

I'm so sorry that it was so horrible for you. It was for me too. Survivors have to stick together.

There's nothing I can add, except, all of this? Thank you.

*hugs*

This is all so, so true. I still have issues from being bullied in early adolescence, despite the fact that it was almost 20 years ago. And bullies don't go away if you just ignore them - so says a year or more of hiding under the teacher's desk to eat my lunch.

This is why Wicked Girls makes me cry - because I want to be confident enough to save myself, and I wish I had been back then, but I'm still not there yet. But I so badly want to be.

And now I'm crying again. Thank you so much for this, and thank you for just being awesome.

Thank you.

One of the things I was being bullied 'for' was being a lesbian, before I even knew what my sexuality was, and certainly before I had acted on it with anyone of either gender. It certainly didn't make me comfortable enough to come out at school once I did meet a girl I liked.

This is a wonderful post: thank you.