The Impact of Bullying-Why Standing Up Matters

"Never, never be afraid to do what’s right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society’s punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way.” - Martin Luther King

Martin Luther King jr.

Lately it seems like everywhere you look, you will find an article or video about bullying. It seems like bullying is an epidemic. The reality is, the amount of bullying hasn’t increased at all. What has changed is with the sites like youtube, and facebook, those who have been bullied finally have a voice.

I think it is wonderful that the phenomenon of bullying has been spotlighted. It is about time. I am also so happy that people are showing tremendous support for those who have been bullied on these sites. Though people only seem to be brave enough to show support for the victims of bullying within the comfort and anonymity of the internet.

 I know all to well about the impact of bullying. I was bullied throughout much of my life. I was picked on for being little, for my buck teeth, for being smart, for being ugly (two girls a grade older than me called me Frankenstein, 30 years later I still remember their names), for running too slow, you name it. I remember accidentally locking myself in the first grade bathroom during recess and being stuck there for half an hour (which is a lifetime for a six year old). I was so traumatized, not from being locked in but being laughed at and teased by classmates, that I stopped going to the bathroom at all at school. Not an easy task for a six year old child. After weeks of this, with a couple accidents, and eventually a bladder infection: my mother asked me why I wouldn’t just use the bathroom. I didn’t tell her about the teasing; I was more embarrassed of that than wetting my pants. I just told her I was afraid of getting locked in again. She ended up calling my teacher, and she had to teach me how to use the lock, and even how to pick the lock if necessary. I was picked on for having money. Then, when I was nine my dad died, and we lost everything, I got picked on for being poor. I even had kids pick on me for not having a dad. I hit puberty earlier than a lot of kids, and I got picked on for having boobs. I never had the right clothes, liked the right stuff, or said the right thing. I so desperately wanted people to like me that I would be anything to be “okay” in their eyes. This sometimes included picking on some other poor kid, and being slightly grateful that it wasn’t me for once, and further hating myself for being as mean as the other kids. I KNEW I wasn’t mean. But I was also convinced that I wasn’t, nor would I ever be good enough, brave enough, or strong enough to be myself, let alone stand up to the other kids. To this day I am still ashamed of the fact that I also picked on kids. And it took me a long time to figure out that even the kids who bullied me were also just desperately trying to find approval, acceptance, and some sort of status in the vicious world we call childhood.

9 isn't an easy age for most kids. Especially a kid who just lost her daddy.

I have worked with dogs a lot. I started volunteering in shelters as young as 14 years old. I would tell people all the time that aggression in dogs stems from fear and insecurity; that a scared animal is a dangerous animal. I didn’t realize that this is also very true amongst human animals too. We either hide, or lash out when we are scared. And the most frightened often lash out BEFORE you have a chance to hurt them. For them, the best defense is a good offense. I also learned from my work with dogs, that fear, and aggression can be healed with enough love, and confidence building exercises. This too can be true for us.

We rescued Piglet from a horrific life. Her heart healed with enough love.

Personally, I had to go through A LOT of therapy. I had to do a lot of work. I had to apologize to a lot of people, including myself before I could even look in a mirror. It took me even more work to like what I saw. But one day I woke up and I realized I was okay. I realized I survived a lot of shit, much of it way worse than getting picked on or bullied. And I realized that for years I had been the kind of person who, if in a room of 19 people that loved me, and one other person that couldn’t stand me, I would obsess over that one person; regardless of my opinion of them. I had never even made it to a point that I could figure out if I liked that person. Because I was so obsessed with why they didn’t like me; “What is so wrong with me that they don’t like me? What do I need to change to be good enough for them”. Finally, I realized what a complete waste of time that was. Not only that, but by focusing all that energy on that one person I was neglecting 19 wonderful friendships. I was insulting myself too. The fact that I would be willing to try to change who I was to fit someone else’s mold meant I had no real respect for myself.

 I realized that not only did I like who I was, but that I was worth fighting for. More importantly, I became obsessed with being the person I wanted to be, not the person I had thought I was doomed to be. I always admired strong, brave, outspoken people, who fearlessly spoke up for causes they believed in. I wanted to be that kind of woman. I wanted to be a woman who when told that someone had said something unkind about them, not only didn’t obsess over it, but looked at the comment objectively; then, if the criticism had merit, did something to resolve it, and if not; discards it and moved on. That was the woman I wanted to become.

It became apparent to me that honesty and integrity were essential traits among the people I admire. In fact they often were the qualities I respected the most in other people. I also realized that the times I liked myself the least were the times when I was being less than honest (this included being dishonest with myself). I think that played a huge factor in the bullying cycle for me. As I got picked on, I would try to change myself to make myself more likeable. This made me feel inauthentic, and dishonest, thereby further lowering my self esteem, thusly making me less likeable. Because, let’s face it, if even you don’t like you, why should anyone else? But the more I thought about these qualities the more important they became to me. I quickly came to understand that if I was to truly respect myself, I would have to be absolutely true to myself. And in doing that it would be impossible to be liked by everybody.  Frankly the people, who then chose to dislike me, were likely to be people I wouldn’t be fond of either. This was a hugely liberating moment for me! To realize that I was actually okay with people disliking me; was like having a ten ton weight taken off my back.

 This, in no way means that all of my emotional shit is resolved. I still have days when I don’t like how I look. I still have days where I sugarcoat my opinions more than I’d like to spare someone’s feelings. If I hear that someone is talking behind my back, my feelings are still hurt. The differences being these feelings don’t own me anymore. I no longer lose sleep over that person talking about me, and even better; 9 times out of 10 I will confront that person about why they couldn’t come directly to me with their complaint. I finally learned that confrontation was so much scarier in my head than it ever is in real life. I still don’t enjoy confronting people. But I will now take a deep breath and speak from the heart, knowing that others words only have the power I give them.

“We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face... we must do that which we think we cannot.”

 -Eleanor Roosevelt

Eleanor Roosevelt-one of my greatest inspirations

Now you may ask yourself, “What the hell does any of this have to do with bullying?” (I so hope you envisioned David Byrne in a giant white suite when you read that sentence, I know I did).

David Byrne

Here is what it has to do with bullying. I keep seeing these videos of kids getting beaten up. I am seeing more and more videos of bullied kids fighting back. There are the fantastic “It Gets Better” videos about people who have survived bullying. But GOD DAMN IT when will we start seeing videos of people putting the fucking camera down, and speaking out against the bullying in the first place?!?!? I am literally crying as I type this. Why don’t more people step in and do something while it is happening? Standing by and watching someone be abused is almost as bad as abusing them yourself. You are more or less telling that person that perhaps they do deserve that treatment. You are also telling the abuser that there is nothing wrong with their actions. You are condoning abuse. And you know what? Fuck you! When I hear someone being cruel or see someone hurting another, I say something. I do something. How could I live with myself if I didn’t?  Kids are getting the shit kicked out of them for being gay, or for even seeming gay. Kids are getting the shit kicked out of them for being different at all. Muslims are having hateful things shouted at them, and their mosques burned down because people have chosen to blame an entire population for the horrific acts of a few. Why aren’t more people standing up and saying “NO that is NOT okay!”??

‎"I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented." -Elie Wiesel

Elie Wiesel

 It is really easy to post a comment on a website or sign a petition online. It isn’t as easy to tell the person next to you that the racist homophobic crap they are spewing is NOT acceptable. It isn’t easy to walk up to the group of kids harassing another kid and tell them to knock it off. But it is the RIGHT thing to do.

When Stieg Larsson, the author of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” was fifteen years old he witnessed the gang rape of a woman.  He never forgave himself for not coming to her aid, and wrote his trilogy as a means of healing for himself. While that regret inspired a hugely popular trilogy of books and movies, I bet if we could have asked him, if he could do it again he would have chosen to defend that woman than have to live with that lifetime of regret. It solidifies my point, that witnessing injustice and not speaking out leaves us with tremendously toxic emotions. And if we want to like the person we see in the mirror; if we want to be truly honest with ourselves, than we need to speak up when we see someone being bullied, oppressed, or abused. Being popular and doing what’s right rarely walk hand in hand. Remember, even superheroes have enemies. But when we speak up; when we stand up for those who are not prepared to stand up for themselves, we inspire others to do the same.

I have never been, nor will I ever be perfect. I have done things I am not proud of. But I will continue to try to be better, and to do better. In a strange way, I am grateful for being bullied. It has taught me how I don’t want to live my life. It has shown me the person I don’t want to be. And it has inspired me to become more of the person I do want to be. The person I want to see when I look in the mirror is someone who does things that scare her, someone who fights for her beliefs, and someone who will not sit back and allow others to suffer. I can only speak for myself, but I know that at this point in my life I would lose a lot more sleep knowing I didn’t stand up for someone being bullied, than I ever would for speaking up and getting knocked down in the process. 

“Never, for the sake of peace and quiet, deny your own experience or convictions.” –Dag Hammarskjold

Dag Hammarskjold

My heroes chose not to fight with weapons, but with words and with actions. I may never achieve anything like their achievements, but I can sure as hell try to be a person they would respect.

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”-Nelson Mandela

Nelson Mandela