Bullying is a subject on the minds of many these days. It knows no social boundaries. At the forefront of many news reports are sad stories of children who have been bullied and taken their own lives, acted out a fantasy of revenge and killed others, or are simply suffering my long-term health effects brought on by years of bullying.
Bullying has been around since the beginning of time. It hurts, it tears families apart, it trashes friendships, it can end a life.
It's a sad, sad world when not a week goes by that we don't hear of a young boy or girl killing themselves over acts of repeated bullying. Lately, it has come to light that bullying can include those whom you thought were your friends.
Add to the escalation of bullying as we knew it before the 21st century – namely – cyber-bullying, and you have some serious stuff going down. And it is hurtful.
A local town has been in the spotlight for bullying going awry with the committing of heinous sexual acts toward at least one, if not two, youth in the locker room. It has been discovered that some who knew of the bullying, shrugged it off as a "boys will be boys" mentality. One has to question where our thoughts are coming from?
The abuse scandal at Penn State is another example. Beloved coach Joe Paterno's reputation was mowed down by the revelation that he was aware of sexual abuse committed on boys by his assistant coach, Jerry Sandusky. Paterno did nothing to stop the abuse and therefore, was just as guilty as Sandusky – at least in my opinion. What justification does someone have to look the other way when something hurtful is being done to another human being?
Didn't Jesus teach us to "love one another, as I have loved you?"
Yet there were plenty of people singing the praises of the wonderful person they believed Paterno was. Was he? Just how beloved is a person who can justify in his or her mind that something that is clearly wrong – is OK?
My son was horrifically bullied as a child – from kindergarten until about the 10th grade, when he found a small group of kids to hang with that accepted him.
There is such agony in receiving a phone call from your sobbing 13-year-old child while you are at work miles away, revealing that a mob of 20 kids had just attacked him when he walked home from school.
The agony for me was nothing compared to the agony he felt each and every day. And it went worse for him if it was reported.
And the teachers did nothing - in every, single school he attended from New Hampshire to various cities here in Missouri.
What a difference the last few years has made. Now schools have programs to combat bullying. Coalitions have been formed, and national, as well as local news outlets have brought bullying and it's consequences to the forefront.
Bullying wasn't just something my son endured. I did too. So did my son's father.
I am the daughter of a preacher, so that makes me a "PK" - short for "preacher's kid." Because my parents taught me right from wrong, the worship of God and belief in Jesus Christ, the principles of the Bible and to do unto others as you would have them done unto you, I endeavored to behave as a child.
I was raised properly by parents who were raised, well, to respect others. My folks, who would be close to 100 years old by now, were brought up in a time where kids respected their parents and their elders, even their peers. Kids were polite and while bullying did take place, it wasn't as criminal and hurtful as it is today. It was a time where people were respectful and were courteous more often than not.
Nevertheless, I was bullied as a child. I can remember a local boy, who was at least 12, who bullied me when we lived in Elizabeth, NJ. I was about 5 years old and he despised me – for what reason I have no idea, but he simply hated me. I admit, I was a goody-two-shoes. After all, misbehaving outside the house (or inside) was not worth it when it came time for my mother to punish me.
This boy came after me more than once and caused me injury.
One time I was riding my tricycle on the sidewalk in front of my house and my mother had just come onto the porch to call me in, when, much to her horror, she saw the boy riding his bicycle at full speed on the sidewalk, headed right for me – from the rear. I was blissfully unaware until he ran into me, sending me up into the air and landing me headfirst onto a rock.
My mother screamed, I screamed, and the boy took off. I have no idea if he got into trouble. Back in the day, parents didn't even complain to other parents, the cops weren't called, teachers weren't expected to get involved.
Not too long after this, the boy cornered me again. We had a tree that was right at the end of a chain link fence and he caught me by that spot and chased me round and round the tree until he got me right at the perfect time and tripped me – sending me headfirst into the end of the fence – my forehead bouncing down the side of the wire-wrapped pole from top to bottom, ripping it open.
That resulted in a trip to the doctor and a number of stitches.
Another time he caught me with my little friend from next door and cut my hand open with a rusty coffee can and drenching me in mud.
Yep - that kid didn't like me much.
Sometimes the bully can be someone you know, a close friend, and then the betrayal is heart-wrenching.
After we moved to south Jersey, I met the daughter of a couple who sang in the church choir, with whom my parents were friends. This girl was my age and we quickly became best pals.
We did everything together – we lived through the hero-worship of the Beatles and the Monkees together. We slept over each other's houses. We played, we dreamed of growing up and marrying Paul McCartney or Davy Jones and we were inseparable at church. We did, however, attend separate grammar schools.
When we were about 13, we were both chosen to attend girls church camp in Asbury Park. We were so excited – an entire week without our parents – the two of us sharing a room, staying up all night and oh, the fun we would have.
But it all went downhill very quickly early on that week.
We met several girls that befriended us and wanted the two of us to go off with them and violate the camp rules. It was things like sneaking out at night, not going to all the classes, etc. We were staying at a 100-year-old, flea-bitten, run-down old beach hotel right near the boardwalk where Bruce Springsteen was most likely a young musician.
I knew that if I went out and misbehaved, I would get caught – I always did. My father was a well-respected Episcopal minister, and he knew every single minister that was on the staff at the camp. There was no way I was going to risk getting into trouble for having a little fun with the girls. So I begged off.
My girlfriend shunned me immediately. She decided these girls, that she would most likely never see again, were worth tossing away a friendship of the last six years.
So, I was left on my own in that old hotel during the down time. A few days later, I did what I shouldn't have done, and snuck a look at my "former" friend's notebook and saw where she'd written a note to another girl that she'd "never really liked Liz anyway."
I was crushed, and the feeling of betrayal made my head spin.
We never recovered from that. Through high school, we would nod at each other in the halls, but we were never friends again.
Sadly, the girl graduated high school and found it difficult to hold down a job. She continued to hang out with the wrong people and ended up dying in a horrific car crash before she was 30.
I was bullied in my neighborhood too. The boys in the 'hood' learned I had a terrible fear of snakes and spent a number of years tormenting me with dead and live snakes whenever they could. That stopped when I suggested to one of them that my father actually liked snakes and he should "show" my father the snake he had.
When the boy came to the door, he found my father in full "priestly" garb – white collar, black suit, and his black hat perched on his head – an intimidating site to a 12-year-old. My father gave the kid a tongue lashing that he didn't quickly forget and that ended the taunting of Liz with snakes.
My husband was bullied as well. He is biracial and grew up in the 1960s around people who were prejudice.
Small for his age, he was constantly taunted and beat up by larger kids, and verbally abused by prejudice teachers until his father stepped in and it stopped. It forced my husband to learn how to defend himself.
We were no strangers to bullying and were horrified and sickened when our son became the victim of bullies as a child.
Most frustrating is trying to get someone to pay attention and stop the bullying. It's like standing in a room full of people and screaming your brains out and no one is hearing you.
Bullying doesn't stop when you become an adult, it simply takes another form.
Perhaps you have a spouse who is verbally (or physically - or both) abusive. Perhaps you have a boss or co-worker who is abusive, a neighbor, a so-called friend, a fellow church-goer.
You may be older, but it doesn't hurt any less.
Two of the last three jobs I had included abusive bosses. One was a passive-aggressive control-freak who couldn't make a decision if his life depended on it. He manipulated the employees and pretended you were his friend while he worked behind the scenes to play games with the staff. None of it made sense, because he frankly was cutting off his nose to spite his face. He lost four employees the first six months of this year, myself included and still has no clue what he's done wrong or why his business is not doing well.
The other boss was a thief and loved to yell. He constantly accused me of stealing "time" from him, when in fact – I was probably the most reliable and honest employee he had. Not a day went by that he didn't literally scream at me for some offense that I had not committed. Meanwhile, he had embezzled money and payroll from the owner of the business and managed, quite artfully, never to pay any of the employees taxes and social security to the government.
One can only pray that some day, some how, bullies will stop the madness. I pray that another child does not have to die before it happens again – but sadly, the odds are against it.
There are anti-bullying campaigns and coalitions all around the country. Look for one close to you and do not allow yourself to be another victim.
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