Bullying
You may have seen or heard about a video this week which shows a teenage boy bullying a Syrian refugee. This attack was clearly motivated by race but across the country and indeed the world there are people bullying others over any differences they might perceive. There were several reasons I think I was bullied as a child. I was fairly bright and enjoyed learning, something which inexplicably is not deemed as cool. Being dyspraxic, though I didn't know it at the time, meant I was generally awkward and useless at anything remotely practical.
In films or TV shows the format is fairly clear. You are bullied by one person, sometimes with help from their friends, for years until eventually you crack or end up gaining superpowers. My experience was never quite like that. For me, it was more a series of disturbed personalities that sought me out as a way of making them better about themselves. Usually it would last until they got bored or the school would change the classes around. Some I have forgiven, because they didn't really mean it and things just got out of hand when they were amongst their friends. Others were just nasty people, who took great pleasure in making my life a misery.
One of my most sustained bullied was someone I'll call C, in the latter stages of my primary school career. The reasons are never entirely clear from the victim's point of view but I think it was a simple matter that I was probably one of the most intelligent pupils in the class and in some strange way he felt threatened by it. It was mostly verbal, although once he did fiercely scratch my neck on a cross-country run with his inhuman claws, which led to a strong letter to the school from my father.
One incident that really sticks in my mind was from a World Book Day. It still happens in much the same way today where children are forced to dress up as a character from their favourite book. As is typical of me, I had forgotten about the event and had to whip up some excuse for a costume the night before. Essentially, I correlated my limited wardrobe with my extensive book collection and managed to find some clothes that vaguely matched those worn on a book cover. It wasn't really a costume at all, I was just dressed in my everyday clothes which was quite a clever move.
Inevitably there came a time when we had to explain which character we were. I had quite thoughtfully bought the book along to prove I had at least made some attempt at a costume. I remember C muttering "I can't believe you bought a book just for this day." I felt the usual humiliation as many of my peers tittered away but it was only later I thought of the comeback. C had come in a suit, claiming he was 'James Bond'. I wish I'd have said "unlike you, I can actually read". C couldn't even grasp the idea that someone might own a book. This memory sticks in my mind because it reminds me that I was better.
Another in the long list was when I was in the Cub Scouts. The adults make a huge mistake in selecting the more outgoing teenagers to be leaders of our little groups. The last thing already outgoing male teenagers should be given is some element of responsibility. S, as I shall name him, took the opportunity to belittle me at every moment. One of the biggest targets was the fact that I still couldn't tie my shoelaces, a common dyspraxia problem. It got so much that I left the Cub Scouts despite the fact that I should have loved it.
There are plenty more but I'm not going to mention them all. From the girl who manipulated me as a young teenager daunted by the opposite sex to the group who belittled my relationship with my first proper girlfriend, they all made life horrible for me. I can still remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach of being attacked either verbally or physically and the dread when I knew a bullying scenario was likely on the horizon.
I always found it really daunting to report bullying to someone in authority, my parents or my teachers or a senior member of school staff. I did find though that on every occasion it helped the situation. Just telling someone makes a difference but people always dealt with things well. The misery of my everyday life would improve, for the short term at least. Usually time would pass and the bullying would start to build up again but the reprieve was wonderful.
In time, I outgrew being bullied. I grew too big and strong for anyone to consider physically hurting me and began to own my awkwardness. I started, and still do, making jokes at my own expense rather than letting someone else get there first. There came a point too when no-one could criticise me more than myself. Someone might try and say something horrible but it probably still wasn't as bad as my self-opinion. Perhaps my low self-esteem was even partly created by years of being bullied.
I think the key thing to remember if you are bullied is that the bully is weak and think that they have power over you. A bully is a fundamentally flawed person that has massive problems with their self-worth, even if they haven't quite realised that. Though being bullied probably did change me in some ways, I feel like I won. I've had my failings but on the whole I feel my life is going OK. I don't know what most of the people I've mentioned here went on to do but I suspect many had their downfall. The only one whose fate I know had a downfall far bigger than I could ever have imagined or hoped for. I may be far from perfect but now I'm the one who owns my imperfections, not them.
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One of my most sustained bullied was someone I'll call C, in the latter stages of my primary school career. The reasons are never entirely clear from the victim's point of view but I think it was a simple matter that I was probably one of the most intelligent pupils in the class and in some strange way he felt threatened by it. It was mostly verbal, although once he did fiercely scratch my neck on a cross-country run with his inhuman claws, which led to a strong letter to the school from my father.
One incident that really sticks in my mind was from a World Book Day. It still happens in much the same way today where children are forced to dress up as a character from their favourite book. As is typical of me, I had forgotten about the event and had to whip up some excuse for a costume the night before. Essentially, I correlated my limited wardrobe with my extensive book collection and managed to find some clothes that vaguely matched those worn on a book cover. It wasn't really a costume at all, I was just dressed in my everyday clothes which was quite a clever move.
Inevitably there came a time when we had to explain which character we were. I had quite thoughtfully bought the book along to prove I had at least made some attempt at a costume. I remember C muttering "I can't believe you bought a book just for this day." I felt the usual humiliation as many of my peers tittered away but it was only later I thought of the comeback. C had come in a suit, claiming he was 'James Bond'. I wish I'd have said "unlike you, I can actually read". C couldn't even grasp the idea that someone might own a book. This memory sticks in my mind because it reminds me that I was better.
Another in the long list was when I was in the Cub Scouts. The adults make a huge mistake in selecting the more outgoing teenagers to be leaders of our little groups. The last thing already outgoing male teenagers should be given is some element of responsibility. S, as I shall name him, took the opportunity to belittle me at every moment. One of the biggest targets was the fact that I still couldn't tie my shoelaces, a common dyspraxia problem. It got so much that I left the Cub Scouts despite the fact that I should have loved it.
There are plenty more but I'm not going to mention them all. From the girl who manipulated me as a young teenager daunted by the opposite sex to the group who belittled my relationship with my first proper girlfriend, they all made life horrible for me. I can still remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach of being attacked either verbally or physically and the dread when I knew a bullying scenario was likely on the horizon.
I always found it really daunting to report bullying to someone in authority, my parents or my teachers or a senior member of school staff. I did find though that on every occasion it helped the situation. Just telling someone makes a difference but people always dealt with things well. The misery of my everyday life would improve, for the short term at least. Usually time would pass and the bullying would start to build up again but the reprieve was wonderful.
In time, I outgrew being bullied. I grew too big and strong for anyone to consider physically hurting me and began to own my awkwardness. I started, and still do, making jokes at my own expense rather than letting someone else get there first. There came a point too when no-one could criticise me more than myself. Someone might try and say something horrible but it probably still wasn't as bad as my self-opinion. Perhaps my low self-esteem was even partly created by years of being bullied.
I think the key thing to remember if you are bullied is that the bully is weak and think that they have power over you. A bully is a fundamentally flawed person that has massive problems with their self-worth, even if they haven't quite realised that. Though being bullied probably did change me in some ways, I feel like I won. I've had my failings but on the whole I feel my life is going OK. I don't know what most of the people I've mentioned here went on to do but I suspect many had their downfall. The only one whose fate I know had a downfall far bigger than I could ever have imagined or hoped for. I may be far from perfect but now I'm the one who owns my imperfections, not them.
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