I apologize in advance for the length...it was something I've wanted to write about for years and haven't until now.
I was bullied in school. The first time it happened, I didn't know quite what to make of it. I was in grade 4 and this big girl named Charlene was doing her best to make my life miserable. She threatened me regularly, often by shaking her fist at me from across the classroom, squinting her eyes for emphasis. It went on until my dad was transferred to another air force base and we moved with him. I was ever so grateful. I had made some friends in that town; one really best friend with whom I'm still good friends with today. But Charlene was always lurking. Sometimes she would stop for months, and then pick it up again. She had a bully helper, Christina. These girls would follow me around sometimes, yelling obscenities at me, calling me "four eyes" because I wore glasses, and they were rather thick. It didn’t seem to matter that Christina also wore glasses. Mine were thick brown plastic frames with thicker lenses. Christina wore thin glasses in a wire frame. I was informed that my glasses were geek girls, and resembled Coke bottles. The thin lenses of today were not available back then.
The bullying of my elementary years was only a preview of what was to come in junior high. I was a base brat just like the rest of the kids I knew, so we moved often. This came in handy when wishing for a fresh start, but for shy kids, it wasn't easy to make those first friendships every couple of years faced with a brand new town and yet another new school.
When I moved to Labrador that summer, I knew no one and many families were away on summer vacation or in the middle of their own move as many happened over the summer to keep the kids in school. A few days after I moved into our first PMQ, I met a girl who lived a few doors down from me. She was pretty and sure of herself, but then I hung out with her and her friends. They were gossipy, belittling of others, and no one I was interested in being friends with. It was risky, but I backed off from hanging out with her, and found some friends of my own.
That choice was never forgotten. Those girls made it their mission to make my life miserable at any given chance until the day I moved away. Their torture lasted for days on end sometimes, and then a merciful break as they picked on someone else. There wasn't much physically that happened, which is not uncommon when girls are being bullied. It was the leers, the dirty looks, the name calling; the threats of physical harm, the isolation from others, and spreading of rumours were all common. I can recall today just how panicked I would feel when threatened the "I'm gonna get you after school" standard.
Sometimes I would manage to find some way to stay late after school, possibly volunteering in the primary grade classrooms, correcting papers, or more likely - hiding in the bathroom until they gave up and went home. Then I would sneak off out the back door, running into the woods to find my way home, hoping I wouldn't cross their paths in the early dark of the north. Sometimes they would push me around, into a locker, or a shove in the classroom, maybe a slur as they walked past…"sssssslllllluuuuutttt” – I didn’t even have a boyfriend. At one point, I couldn't take it and dropkicked the wind out of a girl who just wouldn't leave me alone. I was hauled up to the principal's office for that one. Sometimes I would make friends with other loners, hoping for safety in numbers. That's how I ended up at my friend Rachel's during Passover...we became good friends and loved playing the board game Life. We also ran from the same bullies...
The bullying didn't end at school. As base brats we all lived on the base, which was separated physically and with a big fence with a gate, from the outside world. We used the same recreation centre, Canex store, bowling alley, theatre, playgrounds. Our parents often were friends who spent a lot of time together. So finding a way to get about town when a threat was current sometimes became tricky. I lived in fear a good bit of the time, and there seemed to be nothing I could do about it. I don't know why they chose to continue to pick on me instead of going on with their lives. I just know it was when I learned to hate.
The final bit of bullying was from a mixed crowd. My brother had dated a past friend of mine, and then dumped her, likely seeing the same thing I did, a damaged youth with a huge chip on her shoulder, living with severe alcoholic parents. It wasn't my fault he dumped her, as he and I rarely exchanged a word, let alone communicate about his girlfriend. It didn't seem to matter. This particular bitch made it her soul task to make my life hell. The worst was once we left the safety of the school and she would gather a pack to follow and taunt me the entire way home. I usually ended up in tears by the time I had covered the short distance to our home on the base. I felt powerless, but for the first time, my brother decided to stand up for me. I'm not sure if he did it for me or for my sister.
My sister happened to walk home with me this one particular day, and was there when I was mercilessly bullied and taunted, yelling at them to stop. She ran into the house when I did, and helped me tell my mother what had occurred yet again. My brother fled out the door, and returned a short while later. He had confronted JoAnn and her idiot boyfriend Jimmy face to face, slapping JoAnn and punching Jimmy squarely in the jaw, breaking it. Now, I don't condone violence generally, but it sure felt good to know he stood up for me. It would be the last time he ever did, but that's another story.
The good feeling didn't last. I had to return to school with these people, and face Jimmy's wired jaw. His mother called my mother, roaring, but my mother soundly informed her what she thought of dear Jimmy's behaviour. The bullying was stepped up from there. The final straw came when I just couldn't face it anymore. We were looking to move again in a few weeks, and my parents had flown south to buy a house off base as my father was retiring from the military. We kids were staying with friends of our parents. The taunting had been particularly exquisite that week, and I was done. I crawled into the closet of the room I was staying in, and stayed there all day long. My parent's friends both worked, but the husband worked shifts, so it was random when he was home. I pretended to go to school, and pretended to do homework, and I might have gotten away with it if the school hadn't contacted the house. I was exposed. I explained to the school again what was going on, and they promised to gain control of the bullying, but I was no fool. They couldn't see a lot of the bullying. It wasn't as overt all of the time, so how could they prevent what they could not see?
I was pretty shy and quiet girl in those days, until I got to know my real friends. Sometimes people thought I was stuck up because I had my head up a lot of the time...they didn't know I could only see out of my glasses if I tipped my head up. I know, people who know me now are thinking - quiet? shy? who is this girl? I overcame. I had to. It was either that or die. Each move gave me a chance to reinvent myself and clearly, the wallflower behind the scenes was not working for me. All it had done so far was to make me a target.
The trauma of prolonged bullying in school took its toll on me. I was robbed so much of my early adolescence while I was cowering in fear from bullies. I was afraid to speak or move, and my self-esteem was crumpling. How I managed to continue my schoolwork and maintain respectable grades in academic classes, I'll never know. Now and again, the bullies would fake out wanting to be my friend, and then they would rip the rug out from under me and laugh at my expense, driving my spirit deeper into seclusion. When we finally moved away from that town, I breathed a sigh of relief. While I was still faced with the task of making new friends again, and of learning the social rules in yet another school, I could start fresh again, no history. Those last years of school were much more gratifying as a student. I made friends, was somewhat popular, went on a school trip to the Yukon with the other brainiacs, and maintained a busy social calendar. I began to emerge from my shell again, and vowed never to take that shit from anyone. Of course, that was easy to say with a few thousand kilometres between me and the last lot of bullies. I found my voice, and while sharing my opinion often led to a seat in the hall outside the classroom, I began to like myself again. I was going to defy everyone, test every limit, live with intention. I was a rebel. I smoked cigarettes and marijuana; I drank at every opportunity; I skipped school when I felt like it; I hitchhiked all over the west coast; I ran away from home for 3 days; I rode in cars with boys, often. I went to parties, hung out in many teenage basements with Iron Maiden posters on the walls, and fridge with beer and liquor stickers all over it. I wore lots of make-up, short skirts, tight jeans, and was generally happy with my tragic teenage role. It was also the time when I lost my beloved John Lennon. But that is a story for another day.
The other shoe dropped when my father announced that he had taken a position in that northern community again, this time working for the Federal Government, and we were moving back. It had been three years since we left, but those girls may likely still be there. I didn't think I could face it. I ranted endlessly to my parents that I couldn't do it, I couldn't go back to that environment again, and I wouldn't. They felt for me, I know they did. So they agreed for me to live with my aunt and uncle in Nova Scotia for the final year of school. They had a daughter just a year younger than me, and we would share a room in their rural home.
Now, living with relatives didn't work out so well, due to a huge conflict between our ideals. They were ultra-religious and I was an emerging agnostic/mystic. They didn't permit me to bring my Stephen King novels into the home, nor could I take my True Story magazines, and watching television was very limited. Church was 2-3 hours every Sunday. For my recovering crumpled spirit, it was not a place for me to heal. I did not wish to face those bullies again, but it became difficult to stay with relatives and I was finally willing to take that chance again, and move back home with my parents. I wasn’t the same person I was when I left there.
I did move back, and to my surprise the bullies had moved on, and only a few of them remained. I was nervous at first, waiting for someone to say something. I reconnected with former classmates, some of them friends of the former bullies. Before long, we were in the same circles, and the bullying was never brought up again. I don't know if it had to do with the change in my personality, or their growth and maturity. At first, I was infuriated that they had the power to impact my life so much, and now can act as if it were insignificant. But I too wanted to move on. Never again did I allow someone to bully me for long. If I saw the behaviour, I called the person out for it. I'm a much more confident person, and I'm not sure if I am because of the bullying or in spite of it. What I do know is it was pure hell when I was in it, and no one should have to feel that way, child or adult. No one should have that power.
So what causes children to bully others? I don’t recall any details about Charlene and so cannot offer any insight there. The first group of girls in Labrador to bully me came from what I knew to be average stable homes with a military parent. JoAnn came from severe alcoholic parents. I’d met them a few times. They sat around in their bathrobes most of the day, drinking at the kitchen table and smoking one cigarette after the other. I don’t know if they hit her when they were really drunk. She didn’t talk about it, but seemed to rule the show there. She smoked and drank in front of her parents…we were in grade 8 – just 12-13 years old.
I can pose a variety of theories in hindsight with the education and experience I now have as a social worker. I’ve offered bullying workshops in the past, and talked about the bully helpers, who I see as key to unlocking the hold bullies have on our schools. Often times the bullies are more bravado than anything and caught alone in a dark alley, they may choose to act differently than when surrounded by their friends. It is rare that a bully acts alone, as that seems to detract from their power. They feed off the emotions of the bully helper, who most likely is just glad they are not the victim, and willing to play along if it means immunity from the bully. The bully helper supports the bully, cheers them on, and sanctifies the act for other onlookers. Some children choose to walk away, not wanting to draw attention to themselves and perhaps risk being the next victim of the bully. Some children may even step in and try to defend the victim, but ultimately, the bully is successful in terrorizing a number of children before something can be done.
What scares me most about today’s age of bullying is the addition of electronic media. Now children can be bullied online, and the newest thrill game is collecting videos of incidents such as beating up someone, taunting and teasing someone, catching victims in embarrassing acts, and staging such incidents to provoke a response favourable to a popular video. The videos are then circulated via the internet, emailed around to friends, and posted on popular sights for all to exploit. Some of these groups are more underground than others; however they are all very effective in breaking down the spirit of targeted youth. The authorities are doing what they can to combat these new games, but they struggle to keep up with the newest technology, software, thrills, hampered by the evolution of a generation of hackers.
The current push is on to recognize the affect and consequences of bullying and draws attention to the recent suicides by youth who were bullied at school, often for being exposed as being lesbian or gay. At a time when youth need the most support in finding their way in the world, their peers are finding new ways to torture them. It seems some youth thrive on seeking out cracks in someone’s personality to expose, or discovering a flaw or weakness that can be exploited for personal gain and maximum embarrassment of the victim.
Why is this? What drives the bully to begin in the first place? What creates a bully? What will stop a bully? These are the questions we need answers to, and should demand from our government. Enough about the gun registry. We need real solutions, before it comes to gunfire. How many youth need to take their own lives before this issue is taken seriously? Where are the research grants for this?
