Speaking out — A guest post by Kate Paulk

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

Speaking out– A guest post by Kate Paulk

So. There I was, wondering what to write about (okay, rant about) to the Huns when Sarah posted https://accordingtohoyt.com/2014/02/16/the-heart-of-darkness/ and made my eyes go all blurry with this  comment: Now I understand why Kate has been so hot in pursuit of this.   I was never bullied, but she was.   I’m fairly sure that’s where her wish to fight back on behalf of anyone a group unreasoningly turns on comes from. Which makes her a hero because most bullied people just break.

Well, damn. I’m not up to getting emotional at this time of day (okay, at any time of day). I try to avoid strong emotion of all flavors for a whole raft of reasons including but not limited to the way strong emotion plus narcolepsy can lead to cataplexy episodes (I don’t get them too badly: I don’t completely lose muscle control, but I do get even more uncoordinated than normal and usually end up with a reaction headache afterwards. It feels kind of like someone replaced all my joints with rubber), the issues that go with depression induced by chronic lack of good quality sleep (another narcoleptic’s delight), and the long hard journey I had to take to distance myself emotionally so I didn’t create my own ever-decreasing downward spirals of emotion.

Yeah, I’m a mess. But I’m a functional mess, so I’m no worse off than anyone else out there.

Usually I don’t get terribly emotional over anything much. Anger I tend to avoid – not least because I have the berserker, and I taught myself to subvert it by switching over to a depression crash – and most other emotions are muted by the simple fact that I spend most of my time in a state approximating just coming off an all-nighter (when I’m medicated. When I’m not medicated it’s more like just coming off two or three consecutive all-nighters). Sarah hit me between the eyes with this one – not because I think I’m some kind of hero, but because I don’t.

More because I’m well… Let’s put it this way. In some of my darker moments I’ve genuinely believed the best thing I could do for the people I care about was to permanently take myself and my problems out of their lives. Even during the worst of the bullying (and let me tell you, it’s a hell of a lot worse when girls are doing the bullying than when boys are. Boys are up-front about it. With girls, it’s whisper campaigns and things you own getting destroyed, and never anything you can use to pin down a culprit – and the culprit can and will smile sweetly at you and act like you’re her best friend… until your back is turned) I never wanted revenge. All I wanted was to be acknowledged: to have some value.

It took me a while to realize that the kind of person who’ll belittle you because you’re different will never acknowledge that you’re a worthwhile person. Maybe some of those people grew out of thinking that way, maybe they didn’t. I don’t care.

But when they turn their sights on someone else, then I have to speak out.

Why? It’s pretty simple. Nobody spoke up for me. Nobody even recognized that this was happening. The scars that left… They’re not visible, but they’re not pretty. If I stand by and let someone else cop that kind of treatment without speaking up then I stand with the people who came after me. I refuse to do that. I would be a failure to myself if I let someone else take the treatment I got without speaking out.

Even if I think someone’s views are reprehensible, even if I think they’re an utter piece of shit, they still deserve the dignity of justice. This simple statement from the Declaration of Independence demands it: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Forget the PC bullshit that holds some more equal than others. That leads to the millions dead, to the gas chambers and concentration camps. Remember that until PC got hold, “all men” meant everyone. Remember too that the Declaration of Independence is the espousal of the principles. The US Constitution contains the compromises we imperfect humans require to be able to get anywhere remotely close to the principles. In an ideal world, that one sentence from the Declaration of Independence would be all anyone needed.

My voice might not be much. It might be derided. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that my voice is there, that I speak up for the things I believe are right, and that I speak against those who would rate dissenting voices as less worthy, less human. To use an old, rather cheesy bit of sappy metaphor, it’s like the fellow wandering the beach after a storm picking up stranded starfish and throwing them back into the ocean so they don’t die. When he’s challenged because there’s no way he can make a difference to the uncountable thousands of stranded starfish, he responds, “It makes a difference to this one.”

Even if what I say doesn’t make a dent anywhere, it matters to me that I speak up in defense of those in the cross-hairs of the bullies. After all, all it takes for evil to succeed is for good to do nothing. Even if I fail to change anything, I won’t be counted among those who did nothing.

142 thoughts on “Speaking out — A guest post by Kate Paulk”

  2. Pingback: Monday Maunderings | Cedar Writes

  3. Silence equates to complicity. I refuse to be silent.
    Those who know me are likely not shocked by this statement.

    Like

      1. Ditto. Of course, I’d always dig the heels in and be impossibly stubborn, but I’ve realized I have to speak or I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror

        Like

        1. Not that I was non-verbal, but when I had been promised an outcome (6 and 7 years old) and my parents would renege, I would sit on the top of the stairs and wail into the kitchen like a banshee. (it echoed nicely in there) I had reasons– and they were pretty well thought out for that age.

          Like

          1. One of the things I’ve discovered is, its bad to break promises to children. It’s seriously something that should not be done – because it’s one of the things that loses trust. If you must break a promise, explain to the child why, and promise to figure out how to make up for it later. And don’t forget about making up for it and make good on this promise. It’s teaches the kids how to weigh the importance of things, as well as the importance of keeping one’s word, and teaches them honor.

            Been doing that with the little boy (the elder girl doesn’t have any problems on this – much) and he’s learning about conditions these days. Like, if he misbehaves at school he can’t watch his DVDs or play Minecraft or other video games. Same if he doesn’t do his chores. He’s still young enough that he forgets the consequences now and then, but I don’t!

            Like

            1. Yea- the parental units broke trust with me at a young age– so the rest of my life with them was just a follow on– ;-) My mother had nine children, but looking back I think she had post partum depression after every birth so I was the de facto mother at a very young age… It wasn’t until I left home that I was able to have a rebellion– (after 21)

              Like

      2. Politeness is a) default setting b) for polite people c) not required for rude people. Bullies are rude people, ergo politeness is worse than wasted on them.

        Like

  5. As to bullies you appear to be a better person, more highly evolved than I. My philosophy is kill them all and let Ghod sort them out.
    Scars? Oh yes, once gaping wounds that have long since healed and now help form what I am today. I expect odds, and most here are definitely that, each and every one have their own story to tell.

    Like

    1. I have less a philosophy like that, than it being the level I would resort to in a high-stress confrontation, because I get inarticulate, and the only avenue for expression becomes physical violence. I haven’t gone that route yet, largely because I am afraid I wouldn’t stop until I got tired.

      Like

      2. Look on it as a public service. Bullies breed bullies, so removing them from the gene pool so they cannot reproduce is simply the right thing to do.

        Like

    2. That or I’m simply weaker than you. I won’t deny that certain persons have been redshirted with malice aforethought (and very satisfying it was, too).

      Like

  6. Good on you, Kate. :)

    For me, the worst are the bullies who don’t even realize they are, because in their minds all they’re doing is trying to “make the world a better place.” Or maybe they do realize, somewhere, that their own motives aren’t so pure, and that’s why they can’t let themselves acknowledge that their target of the moment has any worth or value as a person.

    Like

    2. Bullying isn’t bad… if the bully is the one who gets to decide what is bullying, and what is just “standing up to a bully.”

      I got hit by anti-bullying stuff when I was in school, and all I did was raise my hand in self-defense. These days it’s even worse, with BadThink topics already spelled out for the ease of finding someone to abuse so you can report them.

      It’s a broken system when a kid has his head slammed in his car door and is threatened with expulsion for “fighting.” (The idiot football player didn’t realize he drove the girl the player was interested in to school because they are first cousins. Even though the football player is a third or fourth cousin.)

      Like

      1. Sorry, dealt with bullies a lot in school, and dealt with the ‘no fighting’ at the time, and I am convinced that the schools are actually enforcing these strict no fighting policies – where the attacker and defender are as a way to condition us into not wanting to defend ourselves later in life ‘because we’ll get in trouble’, or something. I could go on about it but meh…

        Like

        1. My schools had strict no-fighting policies. My parents had a much different view of things.

          When my brother was suspended for “fighting” (better known as “fighting back and flattening the bully”), my dad took the day off work and took him to a museum. They always said we’d never be punished for finishing what someone else started.

          Of course, if we started it, then we’d be in trouble.

          Like

          1. My three minions have two rules (so far) when it comes to how they treat others: “Keep yourself to yourself” and “You start it, you finish it.” I think I will soon be adding “Don’t hit if you can help it, but never hit soft.”

            Like

    4. I’m surprised none o’ this lot referenced this in response:

      “Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron’s cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.”
      ― C.S. Lewis

      Like

  7. Despite what the current crop of therapists and do-gooders claim, the only to effectively stop bullying is to confront the bullies and shut them down. I was the target of choice for almost four years. It only stopped when 1) I stood up for myself and 2) the JROTC commander let the ROTC kids know that he’d appreciate it if they kept an eye on me (he knew I was in the process of applying for college ROTC with the goal of joining the military after college graduation, since I had not been selected for one of the academies). I’m not a victim, I’m a survivor and d-mn if I’m going to tolerate a real bully.

    Like

    1. Yes, “Ignore them, and they’ll go away” doesn’t work. I knew better than to even try the “Let them know that they hurt your feelings” bit. (Though, I don’t think I even heard that one until well after it would have mattered, anyway.)

      Like

        1. Girls are vicious, but often spineless little wimps as teenagers.

          Girls in my high school found out very fast that spreading rumors about me didn’t work. Goading the boys to try hurt me? Would never end well for them. The day I entered high school, I spoke to the principal. I flat out told him that I was aware that I was considered an outsider, an outcast, not ‘Filipino’ because I grew up elsewhere. As long as it stayed words, there would be no trouble. I warned him I grew up in a country where dislike isn’t limited to whispering rumors and badmouthing me – it’s fists to the face and physical fights. I promised him I would never, ever start a fight, but I would certainly end them. Also, given my tiny size (I’m less than 5 feet tall) I will never assume anyone trying to hurt me are just trying to ‘hurt me a little’ but will assume ‘that person is trying to kill me’ and respond appropriately.

          I told them to warn the student body not to try me. To their credit, they did.

          I held up my end of the bargain, even though my teachers and the principal were shocked at what I said. They saw the whispering and the slandering and mockery, but I ignored it all (helps when you’ve a walkman plugged into your ears! That song, Headphones may as well have been my theme!), my nose buried in books and I kept my grades high.

          A few boys were dumb enough to try hurting me.

          I held up my end of the bargain. The boys in question were either expelled or were pulled out of the school by their parents. I know they had suspension at least.

          I survived, came out of it street smart and people smart. But I think that the school systems these days have prevented the victims their only way of survival. So instead, you have school shootings and child suicides and the bullies getting away with rape, murder, and do it with a support club.

          Like

          1. I agree with you– when I was bullied, I brought a group of girls together who were being bullied too (in sixth grade). Funny, there were more of us than them. We didn’t hurt the bullies, but we scared them shitless. One time I remember one of the girls (she was physically mature for a girl at eleven and liked to use her fists), go after us in the playground we encircled her with our hands joined and then when she went after one girl, we would push her with the rest. Think Red Rover– Stronger together than apart– was my motto then.

            My parents wouldn’t let us fight– but there are other ways. For some reason, certain groups were scared of me–

            Like

          3. “I promised him I would never, ever start a fight, but I would certainly end them.”

            It’s not the exact dialog from the show, I know, but suddenly, I’m picturing a little slip of a girl facing down an entire schoolroom while wearing John Sheridan’s uniform from “Babylon 5.”

            My day, it is made. :)

            Like

            1. You know, it’s only later on that I understand commentary made to me.

              My graduting year in college, we were encouraged to do …well, essentially dress up or cosplay for the yearbook. I did a Matrix cosplay, and something O-Ren Ishi-eque. My prop was a wooden sheathed wakizashi, and I was holding it in my lap while waiting in the hallway for my turn chatting with my best friend. The Dean of my major walks up while talking to another teacher, says hi, and says shocked, “Is that real?!”

              Me: “yes…”

              Dean: Can I see?

              I hand over the sword, expecting it be confiscated. She unsheathes the sword, tests the edge, and asks “Are you planning to kill anyone with this?”

              Me, eyes wide and shocked: “No! It’s for the dress-up pictures!”

              She sighs in disappointment, sheathes the sword and gives it back to me. “That’s a shame (translated from Filipino.) If you did, I was going to ask if I could watch. Anyone you decided needed to be dead probably needs killing.” *pause* “Slowly.”

              The Dean tells me she wants to see the pictures when they come out and walks off. The teacher with her looks horrified. She left in her wake two very befuddled graduating students.

              …Did she expect me to snap at some point, I wonder, and take out workplace bullies, perhaps with quiet assassinations…? O_O I’m actually puzzled where that repuation came up because I got into no physical fights in college!

              She was a character. I liked her. But sometimes she’d look at me and say ‘Get out, go have a second lunch and grow taller or something, you don’t need today’s class. They do.’ *levels glare at classmates* I’d PROTEST because her classes were INTERESTING! but she’d shoo me out anyway. …I’m actually surprised that a decade odd later, I’m still pouty about that.

              Like

              1. Reminds me of one of my more… vivid experiences in the Philippines.

                I was chatting with a local, a guy I knew and liked, older gentleman, and he started saying “You Americans are so squeamish. So… soft. You know, Americans couldn’t pound a spike through a man’s head, in one ear and out the other and sleep at night. Me, I could do that, but not you.”

                I didn’t really know how to respond except to nod slowly and agree. “Yup, that’s right. Don’t think I could do that and sleep well, no sir.”

                Like

                1. I know I am coming late to this, but I have to ask: isn’t that what nail guns are for? Seems much less tedious.

                  Like

                  1. A nailgun is so cold, automated, and impersonal. The way he was describing it, you got the sense that it was the kind of thing that would have … the personal touch that you can only get using hand tools, I suppose is one way to think about it.

                    Like

        1. That’s exactly why we’re teaching Vincent that it’s not okay for him to cry at school, especially at his age, if he gets hurt while playing. He’d be seen as a target. Though, in this school, the kids are all wonderful cute, sweet and behaved. Well, we do have the mischiefs, but they’re not little jerks, you know? Still, it’s best to teach him while he’s in a safe school.

          (Seriously, they’re all such cute kids, I wanna cuddle and hug ’em all. Okay, they’re like shoulder height to me but still. Cute and adorable!)

          Like

    2. This, this so very THIS.
      I sometimes wonder how the bullies of this age would have survived the bullies I experienced as a kid. They were the high school kids who didn’t like the uppity little Asian grade schooler who didn’t know her rightful place in the world. Her face needs beating in to teach her a lesson!

      Well, that’s a light summary of just part of the bullying I’ve experienced. Yet when I look at how the teens and grade schoolers of this age behave… as brutal as my experiences were, and maybe this is seen with somewhat rose colored glasses… I had the impression my childhood was more… honest. Cleaner, even. You had a punch up, and either fought back or lay down and let yourself get kicked. A person who spread rumors and whispered behind your back was seen as a untrustworthy, backstabbing gutless wimp who didn’t have the strength to back up their dislike with an actual show. NOBODY, not even the bully, turned their back to the guttersnipe. Yet the latter is more ‘acceptable’ these days, and now we have more kids killing themselves at the age of LESS THAN TEN.

      Like

      1. Hell yes. And I don’t blame the kids who kill themselves. When you can’t see any way out and the people who SHOULD be protecting you are helping your torturers? What choice do you have?

        Like

        1. I sometimes think that the only reason that I survived High School is that the “Dean Of Men” (his term) understood that I didn’t get mad unless somebody else was tormenting me (verbally). Of course, that didn’t help if the tormentors encountered me after school.

          Like

        2. This is part of my aching despair for my children. How can we teach them to survive if by doing so, we’d risk having them taken away by child services, because the teachings and mindset aren’t ‘correct’. Australia doesn’t seem quite as ‘wussified’ yet, and maybe there’s a chance of turning back the tide, but it still makes me both angry and sad.

          There is a VERY strong anti-bullying campaign in the schools here. It’s huge. It spikes whenever there’s news of another bullied kid killing himself or herself, or a rape victim having to stand up to the popular school darling who hurt her story from the US. It’s focused mostly on the children – and since the boy is too young he isn’t getting those lessons yet I can’t evaluate the message well – but I hope it teaches the good message that they’re not at fault, and that the people you’re supposed to turn to for protection are still there.

          Like

          1. While I certainly don’t condone bullying, I worry that the anti-bullying crusade is sending a message of learned helplessness to the would-be victims. Teaching kids not to fight back and to rely on authorities who aren’t present when needed is a recipe for societal weakness IMO. A much more effective strategy, I think, would be to teach martial arts in Phys Ed classes and teach the kids to fight back and be willing to step in to defend one another from bullies.

            Unfortunately that would make the schools liable for any injuries suffered by the bullies:-(.

            Like

            1. Oh, yes, I worry that too. I’m hoping that the message of why bullying is wrong and should not be condoned is the main message. I know that there is a strong anti-cyberbullying thing going on here too, but as social networks are verboten to my kids (they’re too young) and we’re only starting to teach them to email (their grandparents and uncles and aunts) it hasn’t been something that’s netted attention for me.

              Perhaps martial arts, when I am able to drive.

              Like

                1. This is true – hubby was a good example of it. He trained till he won medals in regional contests and liked to spar with the black-belts for fun and skill challenge (he was whatever brown dan was below the lowest level black and didn’t advance simply because he didn’t have the time to take the advancement exams.) He said that knowing that he could take apart a loudmouth and imagining exactly how helped erase a lot of irritation – especially as it wasn’t generally known that he was into martial arts. Somehow it worked too; people started leaving him alone after a while. He does admit that he occasionally wished a blowhard or two would try lay a hand on him, but they never went further than yelling insults and making implications of his lack of (insert body part here.) Maybe it helps when the person being shouted at is a broad-shouldered if thin young man.

                  Yelling then escalating to physical violence is more likely if the person being abused is (from experience, not statistics) small and female and appears weak. I give my father 100% credit for my being here instead of dead in a gutter somewhere, for telling me that the moment someone lays a hand on me, hits me, grabs me or any of that, it’s self defense. I was within my right to maim, or kill, in order to ensure this threat would not try to seek revenge on me later. I was never to assume that the person attacking was out to just ‘hurt me enough to humiliate’ or any of that crap. Nobody has the right to hurt me, and he didn’t raise me to become someone’s victim.

                  Like

              1. Oooh, thanks for that! Notably though, reality sinks in when you think of the likelihood of litigation. There’s some people trying that route here, including a mum who wants ‘more signs to warn’ when she let her two year old go down a really long, tall slide, and the kid caught her leg and broke her leg. Mind, the more signs to warn approach came when she spectacularly failed to sue the council and the designer of the playground for damages. In fact, the council is flat out refusing to even put up the signs, saying that there are signs that say ‘Children should be kept under adult supervision at all times,’ and that is quite adequate for the rest of the parents around… Of course, she went to the media, and the comments are not sympathetic.

                Why? She let her two year old on the slide designed for older kids.

                But we’re the parents who put our then 1 year old boy on a pile of soil and let him discover the joys of being in the dirt, especially when he found out what he can do with a hose…

                Like

            3. Bureaucrats need helpless clients. This helps them keep their jobs. A society of helpless marks is good for a gov’t that wants to run everyone’s lives for them.

              Like

  8. Like – I understand why you are so vocal now. When I was in the Navy I used to side with the ones “not heard” even if I wasn’t one of them because there were many years I didn’t have a voice–

    So good luck and God speed–

    Like

      1. a loaded question ;-)

        I am pretty healthy right now for taking chemo everyday… as the doctor says “abnormally normal.”
        On the writing I started back up– the workshop was really helpful– I have one short sci-fi (more humorous space opera or as the hubby says cheesy, than hard).

        Plus one of my books that I didn’t have the energy to get out last year will be out at the end of the month…
        Plus every time I think I am getting some writing done– I get hit with something. I guess it is the 50’s blues.

        Like

              1. It’s like my body takes over lol and the mind shuts off (except for the strategic mind). Hey I checked my DNA (with Promothease.com) and I am actually a multi type (rare)– one warrior SNP and one worrier SNP which makes me a strategist in the middle of battle. ;-)

                Plus if someone wants to push past decency– they get what they deserve. lol

                Like

                2. Was it that Katherine Kerr Deverry series that had the family motto “We hold on.” And their emblem was a badger? I really liked the patriarch character … if that’s what I’m remembering … ??

                  Like

          1. It is maintenance chemo. I have an auto-immune Vasculitis disease (Wegener’s Granulomatosis). The only way to keep it under control is chemo, sometimes in combination with prednisone. I will be on chemo for the rest of my life.

            Like

              1. It should because it is toxic. I am toxic to people through my waste products. ;-) People are toxic to me through their germs, viruses, and bacteria. Thus is the life of a person with a chemically suppressed immune system. ;-)

                Like

  9. I’m guessing most of the readers on this blog have been bullied at one point or another. We’re odds. Getting bullied is what we do. The important thing is to not let it consume you. Living well is the best revenge. The next best thing is fighting back, anyway and anyhow.

    For some that’s meant literally. I remember when I was in the second grade. I got beat up by three other boys who wanted me to be part of their “gang”. I got home and my father found out about it. No way was HIS kid joining any gang. He spit in my hair and handed me a stick. The next day all three boys had “accidents” while the other two weren’t around. One kid got sent home early because he had a bad nosebleed. Needless to say, I never had any problems from them again. But things have changed and in my mind for the worse.

    Nowadays, it’s considered to be “wrong” for a person to fight back against a bully. The job of adults who care for children (whether in a classroom or otherwise) is to build “consensus.” To get the bully and the bullied to see the problem from the other’s point of view. This is nothing but the purest form of horsesh*t.

    The way to deal with a bully is face to face, nose to nose with whatever amount of force is necessary. Yes, that includes physical violence if it is warranted. For the record I do NOT recommend the use of violence against a person who only uses words. I’m not going to run around punching Facebook trolls. And no, people don’t outgrow the bullying mentality. Just ask anyone who has worked in the Customer Service industry. The amount of people who direct threats to people who they’ve never even met is astounding. I couldn’t tell you how many times people threatened to get me fired because I followed the rules my bosses gave me. But I digress…

    Look, I know a lot of bullies have deep seated emotional problems. I just don’t care. The proper response of anyone who has been bullied is to fight. Don’t give in. If you do, they win. Consensus building is fraud. Hold your head high and your fists to your chin with your elbows tucked. Be not afraid. Make them afraid of you.

    Like

    1. “Look, I know a lot of bullies have deep seated emotional problems. I just don’t care. The proper response of anyone who has been bullied is to fight. Don’t give in. If you do, they win. Consensus building is fraud. Hold your head high and your fists to your chin with your elbows tucked. Be not afraid. Make them afraid of you.”

      THIS. And this is true in the public arena, too. If you want to be left alone to live your own life, and the other guy wants to regulate you to the nth degree, regulating you half way is NOT CONSENSUS, it’s the other guy winning.

      Like

      1. I begin to see why you share my total loathing of the current American educational system culture. Bullies and enablers of bullies each and every one whether by intent, omission, or neglect, doesn’t matter. Their “rules” tie the hands of the victims while turning a blind eye to the overt intimidation and abuse as long as it fits within their guidelines.

        Like

        2. After 11 years in public education, I’m convinced the whole point of the exercise is to produce pliant sheep while lining the pockets of the top tier of administrators.

          Like

          1. Pretty much, yes. While despising and kicking the sheepdogs.

            Damned idiots. There are times when I think they deserve the hell they’re making for themselves.

            Like

              1. Couldn’t they have their own little areas where they could run their idiotic social experiments and keep the rest of us out…of…

                And I remembered just now that the Iron Curtain and the Berlin Wall’s down now. *grump*

                …*lightbulb*

                …that’s practically what they want, isn’t it? They want a return of the ‘good’ old days of Die Socialismus.

                Like

    2. Back in high school, some guy I barely knew slammed my head into a metal doorframe. When I returned to school a few days later, some of the older kids told me they beat the guy up. He never went after me again.

      Like

    3. All of this!

      My son got shoved hard by a bigger kid while at the schoolyard once. This was some time before school-out time so the various parents were there waiting to pick up their kiddies. Housemate was handling that responsibility.

      My son got up, turned around and decked the kid.

      As my son was getting scolded, Housemate heard a chuckle from a man next to him: “My kid had that coming! Next time, he’ll learn not to throw his weight around so much. And not to underestimate the little guy.”

      Housemate turned and looked – Guy was a big, bulky looking ‘bikie’ like dude. The man apparently was going to scold his son after school for being a bully and for crying.

      Like

        1. I have to admit, I felt… dare I say it… hope that maybe not all is lost in the world…! That not all parents are the precious snowflake mentality!

          The other kid’s dad sounded like he had his head screwed on right. I pray his son grows up to be a good man.

          Like

  10. I have to look back and declare that I was lucky. I was picked on, verbally, quite a bit in school, but after I graduated, I came to the realization that the people doing it hadn’t really meant the things they said to me in a decidedly evil way. They just poked fun, and when I got upset (instead of laughing with them), they poked some more. I’m reasonably certain, in retrospect, that none of them really understood how much it hurt me emotionally, and talking to them today tends to confirm that. Mostly because they don’t even remember giving me a hard time – it seems to have been important only to me.

    Other people, on the other hand, have told me how some of their peers’ attitudes and tendencies have remained, to this day, and that running into them on the street would be ever-so-much more pleasant in a car than just stopping and talking.

    Like

    1. You were lucky. I couldn’t leave anything that mattered anywhere someone else could get to it. Things in my desk would be destroyed. So would things in my school bag. And that was without counting the verbal abuse.

      Like

      1. It’d just be in a comment thread; an amazing number of folks aren’t clear on what “natural law” could mean, once they understand it’s not hte “Red in tooth and nail” thing.

        Like

  12. I was bullied a lot in school, but I particularly remember three incidents. I may have mentioned one of them before.

    1. Junior high. The school bully picked me (so far as I can tell, at random) out of a crowded hallway and did his best to disembowel me with a blunt fist. What was memorable was the sheeplike expression on every other face in the hall: “Please, don’t pick me next.” Would have been my reaction, too, in their place, I’m ashamed to admit.

    I’m tempted to opine that the correct reaction would have been for all the sheep to rise up en masse, pin the bully to the ground, and beat the living snot out of him. But, y’know? I have a distressing streak of liberal bleeding heart in me. This particular bully wasn’t right in the head. What he needed was to be placed in a controlled environment where he would no longer be a danger to himself and others. I don’t know, but I’d be willing to take a small wager that that is what eventually happened.

    2. High school. An early experiment in coed P.E. We’re playing basketball and I’m terribly at it, don’t entirely understand the rules, but have the vague idea that I’m supposed to make it hard for the other guy to make his shot. I was probably goaltending (still not clear on the rules of basketball even today) and ended up with a knee solidly and quite deliberaly connecting with my gonads. I’m guessing that lying on the floor clutching your badly bruised nuts amidst a whole class of wide-eyed girls is the sort of traumatic experience that makes some guys run off and become a monk. However, I was not raised Catholic.

    The perpetrator is now a successful manager at Boeing. Go figure.

    3. Junior high again. Another bully challenges me to a fight. Actually challenges me, with the usual deprecating remarks on my manhood if I refuse. I’ve been the conscientious objector all along (yeah, I started out pretty liberal when young, but fortunately I got better) but I’m sick of it and decide it’s better to fight. He offers me the first blow — dares me, in fact, to hit first. There are no adults watching, which calls into question his intelligence … So I hit him right in the solar plexus with everything I’m worth.

    Gotta admire his intestinal fortitude. His eyes bulged but he didn’t scream or collapse. I walked away at that point — you gotta know when to do that. Was followed by very unconvincing imprecations on my manhood. Was never bullied again by this particular character.

    I have no idea what general lessons can be drawn from all this, other than that I hate violence, I hate bullying, and it’s a shame the world is filled with both.

    Like

        3. Instep also works, then solar plexus or side of opposite knee, especially if opponent/idiot lacks external voonerables. *pious look* Not, of course, that I espouse retribution or physical violence in any form, especially not among the young.

          Like

            1. I believe this is what training is for.

              Hm. Should people be worried that I go shooting regularly and the Husband says I’m a bloody good shot?

              Like

              2. The first time I ever touched wielded a pistol. The guns were HORRIBLY maintained and Rhys was resisting the urge to strip, clean and fix ’em, and said he was amazed that I even got a grouping as opposed to ‘bullets everywhere’. One of the guns just flat out locked on the trigger. I couldn’t pull it at all. With some force Rhys did, but it ground and creaked – he concluded it might have had some grit in the mechanism, and did not consider it safe to fire.

                He’s an armorer so he should know.

                Then I played with a little .22 bolt action after not touching a rifle since the age of 3. That was fun.

                Like

                1. I wound up with my dad’s 3 bolt-action .22s after he died. If the damn snow ever melts off, I’m going to go out and test-fire them to see how accurate they are.

                  The shotguns I’m going to take to a gunsmith before firing, but a .22 boltie isn’t likely to blow up on me.

                  Like

                  1. I like the .22 – good enough for rabbits, small game, perhaps medium sized game. Size and length and caliber and such are things I have to consider because I’m a tiny thing, and the current laws in Australia do not allow for adjustable stocks, only solid ones, and the length of the stock is not comfortable for me.

                    I’m pondering one of the new CZ range of handguns, for someday (because Rhys is encouraging me on yet another expensive hobby!) because I like target shooting as a sport. I had a look at the costs though (and they have a kit that lets you convert from 9mm to .22) that I sometimes play with the idea that I’ll consider that the ‘engagement ring’. I personally wouldn’t mind doing that, but Rhys wants to get me one, because ‘even though we’re doing everything backwards, that doesn’t mean we don’t do the rest of the things properly.’

                    Like

    2. I remember a fight I had with a bully in high school. He called me out, to his surprise I accepted. He started dancing around talking about how he was going to get me. While he was doing this I kicked him in the nuts, then taunted him at how stupid he looked. This got him pissed and he charged. I kicked him in the nuts a couple more times. That was the fight.

      Like

      1. Jordan, this account doesn’t surprise anybody who knows you on the Internet. So much for people who say the Net disguises personality! :)

        And good for you. We could have used more like you, back in school.

        Like

  13. Well done, Kate.

    I was reading this, and thinking to myself, “I don’t think I was ever bullied.”

    And then I sort of thought about it. I’ve had attempts at bullying in the past, and I have not exactly covered myself with glory. I’m always too quick to assume fault on my own part. Non-confrontational. Squishy. And while I can occasionally talk a good game, and do wind up getting mad on the internet a lot, I’m not sure what it is that lil’ ol’ me can do, or what value my voice brings. But you’re right that a voice in defense of truth and principle has value. No matter how small.

    Like

    2. What’s interesting is that I think I *was*, in some small ways, bullied in grade school—at least, my nearest brother still has a hate on for one of my classmates because of the things she used to say to me. But really, it didn’t take long for me to outgrow and quite literally forget it, and I met that same girl as a teenager and she was civil if not friendly. (I wonder if she was feeling guilty, but it honestly doesn’t matter.) By the time I got to junior high I was quite firmly in an attitude of “I really don’t care what you think” and the administration of that school was pretty well on top of behavior, so I only got a few of the stupid comments around gym class and that was the extent of things.

      And, well, my single-sex private high school was so small I think we were below the minimum threshold for bullying to thrive, especially as the teacher-student ratio was good enough to keep students in view. I was pretty well accepted as “friendly weird” and nobody really cut me out of things. (Or if they did, it was too subtle for me to really notice.)

      I think the key here is that I grew up in good school districts with school sizes that weren’t these immense unmanageable numbers. If you have a school with a thousand or more kids, it’s all to easy for some to slip through the cracks.

      Like

      1. Oddly, the example that raises it’s head most prominently was at a con. I think it was my second trip to Balticon. I was wearing a lanyard that said “Empower Texas”, and some con attender (female) started hectoring me about it and what it meant. To which I mumbled something about education and why would someone be against educating voters.

        To which she said something about some people in Texas she’d like to see dis-empowered and she left.

        Lots of things I could have said or done there, but in the moment I sort of went squishy as opposed to calling her out. Like I said. Not exactly covering myself in glory there.

        Haven’t been back to Balticon for a couple years. Mostly financial reasons, but the community (mostly podcasters and new media folks) and I have developed philosophical differences.

        Like

        1. Hey– some of us are better at writing than speaking– which is the same when you are in a pressure-cooker situation. In cases like that I get a few standards like “it must be hard to be you.” ;-) It might not be that you are squishy, but more that you are not good with the verbal quickness required to hit back.

          Like

          2. Used to be. And over the last few years I’ve taken a lot of effort to train myself OUT of it, because it came from… a not good place. (which felt like a big black hole right near the center of my chest.) So after a long time of stuffing that in a box, I’m hesitant to let it out.
            And I don’t know that it would do any good, it’s a little out of practice.

            Like

            2. Oh, that one… For me it’s the seething hot molten lava in there, followed by blacking out. Which is why I trained it to divert to depression crash instead. That’s a bit more manageable.

              Like

              1. For me its when it breaks through all my self-erected barriers (hint if I go very quiet OR very polite, RUN) and it becomes a red hot mist. This is bad and if you see me actively try to kill someone CALL DAN. He’s the only person who can stop it. Unless you want the other person dead, of course.

                Like

                1. Hear and believe oh fellow Hun.
                  I still vividly recall Ms. Sarah going all quiet and polite at a particular panel at Liberty last year. And I still credit Dan for having the foresight to sit between her and the object of her attention. Clueless harridan never even realized how very very close to doom she was approaching while we in the audience looked on with shock and awe.
                  I made a point of complimenting Dan afterward, and he confessed that the seating was a conscious decision on his part, so full credit to him as peacemaker. Besides, explaining the scorched body would have been awkward. Not impossible, but awkward.

                  Like

                  1. Panel Chair: “The dragon did it, officer.”
                    Officer: [Scritch scritch on notepad, looks up] “The dragon.”
                    Chair: “Yes, sir, we have witnesses.”
                    Entire panel audience: “The dragon did it. Big dragon. Went that way.” [all point to the back door]
                    Officer: “Let’s just call it spontanious human combustion. The coroner will believe that one.”

                    Like

                2. Well – severe politeness means the hole is about to be uncovered. And yes– I will never get between you and your intended target. I consider your Dan, a hero.

                  Like

          3. I need to be in the right frame of mind for speaking to work. Writing just sort of happens – it’s where I’m strongest.

            Like

        2. Charming specimen that one. I could put Balticon on my circuit (it’s about 3 hours away from where I live), but your story kind of suggests I wouldn’t like it.

          Like

          1. Looking at the guest list for this year suggested it was going to be fairly standard East Coast SF/F convention. With the exception of Chuck Gannon, who is a scholar and a gentleman, and – I believe – drives in from Annapolis.

            Like

        3. There’s a particular forum I visit that has single-threaded comments. I stopped visiting the political threads entirely when somebody on one of them said that she’d drive past a refugee of a natural disaster if she knew they were Republican—and nobody called her on it. In fact, several cheered her on. I expressed my dislike of such ideology over humanity and haven’t bothered to follow up on any political threads there since (which has done a lot for my blood pressure.)

          I’m very public on my dislike of opprobrious epithets, too. With the breadth of friends I have, any name somebody says is bound to hit somebody I like and respect (if not for political reasons…)

          Like

          1. Imagine their shock, horror and dismay if somebody had replied: I know what you mean; I feel the same way about Democrats … whose policies are a natural disaster.

            Like

    3. Thank you. I’m naturally rather quiet and retiring (stop laughing, you!), so speaking up is something that takes an effort for me.

      Like

  14. I agree with almost everything Kate writes except for one thing. Every time I hear “but girls bully different than boys” I want to scream. Every way you talk about how girls bully was how I was bullied by boys. Then top it off with violence. I grew 6″ over the summer between 8th and 9th grade. Throw on feet that went to size 15 and you had a 6′ 4″, 170# klutz. I was also a major introvert.
    For 3 1/2 yrs it was an every day thing. Right up until I punched a guy hard enough in the nose to require surgery. My parents actually let me sleep in during that suspension
    About ten years later my main tormenter walked into the bar I was bouncing in. When he saw me he turned white as a ghost. Becuase now I looked more like a professional wrestler. I just laughed at him and walked away.

    Like

    1. I’ve been bullied by both, and I found the boys were more direct – but that doesn’t mean they’re always going to be like that.

      Like

Comments are closed.