I'm not perfect. I know, as difficult
as it is to believe, it's true! But honestly, I'm okay with that.
Sure I strive for perfection, (mostly because I am very OCD), but
most times, I fall short. Over the years, I hope I have improved,
sometimes through helpful suggestions of others, and sometimes
noticing my own issues I needed to address. But I have learned that
nobody is in fact perfect.
Sadly, it seems some people still
expect perfection. Some people have this vision of how you should
behave and how you should look. And if you don't fit into their
ideal cookie cutter mold, then it becomes obvious (to them), you're a
loser, and they are eager to point out all your flaws.
I would like to think, that in these
'enlightened' days, people are more tolerant of others, or at the
very least accept differences in others. But there are apparently
still bullies in the world. A bully likes to think he is better than
you. A bully is very quick to explain all the reasons you are
inferior, and will find every one of your imperfections and focus on
them to make you look as small as possible.
I think most of us have experienced
bullying in some form or other, but it seems nerds/geeks are the most
obvious common target for them. I recently read an article about
someone dressing as a Star Wars Stormtrooper at a charity event.
Some kids came up behind him and pushed him. Why???
This type of bullying seems stupid, hurtful and a very obvious waste
of time.
But what about verbal bullying? It
tends to be a bit more vague, however, it is still just as real, and
just as disgusting and I will never understand it.
When I was young and maybe extra nerdy,
I was always a bit different. I don't mean I had three arms, or two
heads or anything like that, but I didn't fit into the cookie cutter
mold.
Ironically, in grade school, I was
considered one of the 'cool kids' *gasp!*. Partly because
there were only about twenty kids in my class, and partly because I
was one of the few that weren't Amish. This was a pretty big deal in
my very small Indiana town.
Then I moved on to middle school, and
suddenly realized my place in life. This isn't something I thought
of, but it seemed everyone was eager to point it out to me. You see,
I had some very nerdy interests. I liked science fiction. And as
any of the cool kids in school will tell you, having an
imagination is the worst thing you can do with your life
(apparently).
But having an imagination was only the
tip of the outcast iceberg. I was a little guy, and I hated sports.
And as most kids in a small town will tell you... that means I was
obviously gay.
Let me state for the record, I am
not gay. I've never been gay, and personally, I can't understand
how any man (or woman) could ever be attracted to another man, cause
I find men sort of yucky and gross. Especially when women are so
hot!!
But let me also say that if you're
reading this, and you are gay, I have the utmost respect and
empathy for any abuse you dealt with growing up (or even as adults).
Cause I was right there with you, hearing every one of the taunts and
all the harsh name calling.
There were days I hated the idea of
going to school, or riding on the bus. There were days I dreaded
eating in the cafeteria and there were just some classes that I
really wanted to avoid. Even subjects that I was sort of interested
in, suddenly became pointless and a drudgery to study, because it all
had to do with that disgusting place of abuse, called Middle School.
Before you start thinking everything
was all bad, I was very fortunate to have great parents and really
cool friends. But there are just some things you can't talk to your
parents about. What will they do? Fight your battles for you? Yea,
that should clear up all your problems *cough cough* And even
my friends couldn't be there all the time. So what's the solution?
For me, the solution was writing. It
was a fantastic outlet for me! Whether I wrote science fiction, or
poetry, or even a free writing prose, it was cathartic to get all
those feelings out, and for a short time, drift to another world
mentally. For the record, I did study self defense books. But the
type of bullies I dealt with, didn't beat me up (although there were
maybe three fights I can recall). For the most part, they used
words. So I needed better words. My writing became my own
personal sword and shield. Or more to the point, they became my own
personal band-aid.
When I got to high school, my
frustration and maybe even confidence started to reach capacity. I
remember being in math class, and the jock football player was
sitting behind me and flicking my ear (cause that's apparently what
dumb jocks do). When the teacher turned to write something on the
board, I turned around and hit him in the face (the jock, not the teacher). The entire class
gasped loudly. The teacher turned to ask what happened, and nobody
said anything. During the remainder of the class, I got all these
death threat notes explaining how he was going to kill me (or
whatever it is jocks do to threaten little guys like me). I ignored
them. As we walked out of the class, everyone followed us. I didn't
care. He made more threats that I ignored and nothing ever happened.
Was I foolish, or lucky? Maybe apathy saved me.
Eventually, I graduated from high
school and things got much better. I moved away from my small town
and lived happily ever after.
The end.
But wait... a few years later,
something interesting happened that brought all those frustrations
crashing around me again. Someone invented the internet!
I was one of the regular writers for a
fairly small MSN group. There were maybe a hundred or two hundred
members in the group total, but only a handful of us posted anything
regularly. I usually did movie or music reviews. I generally tried
to be nonsensical, but overall, I hoped I could entertain everyone.
But one day, something dark and
disgusting happened. Someone anonymous started to post some very
hurtful things about me. They posted personal information about my
past, and tried very hard to discredit me. It seems in these
'enlightened' days, the internet allows bullies to abuse you
anonymously.
Why??? At first, I tried to
ignore it and sort of play along with this cruel joke at my expense.
But the attacks got deeper, and not one person came to my side to
defend me. Suddenly I was all alone. Suddenly, I was back in middle
school again. I carried these painful attacks with me to work, and
they kept me awake at night when I wanted to sleep.
I convinced MSN to delete the abusive
posts, but the damage was done. I seriously wondered why I bothered
writing. Writing was what I loved, and was proud of, but someone
chose to shatter my shield and wound me all over again. I was ready
to never write anything publicly again.
But, just like leaving high school,
things got better. The dust settled and I finally started writing
again fairly regularly, and some people seem to appreciate what I
have to say.
But looking back, I have to ask... was
I too sensitive? Do I have scars that are too deep, that are easy to
tear open again?
An artist friend of mine had a very
similar experience on his website. Someone targeted him and started
sending some very abusive comments about his work. Is there really a
point to this? I have always said, one way to improve is through
criticism. Remember, I'm not perfect, so I am always open to
criticism to help me improve. But there is a big difference between
a critique, and an attack. And nobody wants to feel attacked and
hurt.
The moral to these stories, are that
nobody should have to put up with abuse of any kind. It is a
horrible and painful way to live. It creates doubt and distrust in
your heart and distracts you from who you should be. But yet, as
Americans, we often play a bit roughly with each other, because it is
sort of part of our culture.
I have a friend living in Japan who
doesn't understand our American way of playfully jabbing at our
friends. She doesn't get most of our sarcasm. But I sometimes feel
like, the Japanese culture may be right. Where is that line of
playful fun, and outright abuse?
The trademark ploy for most bullies is
to say, they were only joking. But where is the line? Am I too
familiar with verbal abuse as a child, that I can't take a joke as an
adult?
Words can be weapons. When I write, I
never want to hurt anyone with anything I say, so I choose my words
very carefully. If someone asks my opinion on their work, I will
always try to be sensitive to their feelings. I never want anyone to
come back to me, and say, “Look how cruel you were to me when
you said this!”. I don't want to hurt anyone, like I've been
hurt, so I try very hard to type gently. But am I, at times,
unintentionally abusive without even realizing it, because I live in
the United States of Sarcasm?
Maybe the key word here is tolerance,
but how do you make anyone tolerate someone who is different? Good
parenting is a start. But how do you make someone be a good parent?
Another important key word is empathy.
When you take a moment to put your brain inside someone's head for a
bit, you might be able to understand how they feel.
Maybe we will never have clear answers
to any of these questions. But for myself, years of therapy might be
a good start.
And for bullies in schools today...
shock collars.
Deeesher
