This morning, Canada woke up to news of the suicide of a young girl named Amanda. But the real question is when will people wake up to the real problem of bullying in schools?
Amanda’s Story
As I listened to this story on the radio, and then watched the video online, tears sprang to my eyes. No one should go through that, I thought. Everyone springs to blame teachers, parents, administrators, but who’s at fault? Naturally, we blame. It’s easy to blame, because it frees us from guilt. Pointing the finger compartmentalizes the problem so that our brains can dispose of it neatly and tidily. But it’s not neat, and it’s not tidy.
It was sexual assault. It was blackmail. It was re-victimizing a kid over and over. It was holding out love, the thing she needed most and then taking it away.
It’s hard for me to write about. I was bullied, too.
A lot of us were. And a lot of us made it though. But those dark days cast shadows on our lives that nothing seems to erase.
Last year, I got together with a bunch of friends from elementary and junior high school. We enjoyed dinner, shared memories. One friend brought up how he had been picked on constantly. The details weren’t as gory as they are in Amanda’s case, but then again, we didn’t really have the internet, or webcams to deal with as kids. But I was part of the group that teased this friend, and others. And when he left, I was one of the people who got to take my turn as a target. And it hurt.
So what if I had curly hair? So what if I was different because of my religion? So what if I got good grades? I guess those things were enough. I was lucky. My parents loved me. I had some friends. But my grades suffered, and so did my behaviour, as I struggled to be invisible, or just fit in. I got mean. I wasn’t big enough to defend myself physically, so I became sarcastic, and sometimes cruel.
I still think of the main tormentor. Not often, anymore. Only when I think about putting together another reunion for schoolmates. Will he come? Will he laugh about the way he threatened to beat me up every day of the ninth grade? I don’t want revenge. I don’t even hold a grudge, these days. I just don’t want to go back there.
The problem with bullying is that the person being bullied isn’t perfect. I was bullied because I hit a girl. I never meant to, but it happened. Her brother was throwing snowballs at me, and we got into a fight. I felt someone attack me from behind. I spun to hit them, and he wasn’t a he. It was his sister. I barely had time to open my hand. And so when people bullied me, I blamed me. It was my fault, right?
I was lucky. I started at a new school the following year for High School. I could escape all those people, and start over. My rebirth took time, as I tried to leave behind the old habits, the mean spirit, the defensiveness, the fear. Friends from other congregations at church helped me fit in. A new friend moved in from another city, and I could unload my troubles onto him. I started to be able to be me again. That was one of the worst parts about being bullied. I lost the ability to be myself and to express myself.
I don’t know if bullying in my day was as bad as it is today. Looking back, I certainly feel like we were more blind to the consequences, and that we didn’t take the bullying to the same level, relentlessly pursuing a victim with the sole aim of destroying their lives forever. I can’t think of one good thing that ever came of my being bullied. My view of myself is affected by it to this day.
Portrayals of bullying on television are far fetched. TV makes it out that the super popular kids are doing the bullying. That’s not how it goes. It’s not the smartest kids, the ones who play all of the sports, the ones who have all of the friends. Those kids work too hard to do the mean stuff. They’re busy. Somewhere in the middle of the popularity pyramid are the bullies. Just like I was, they’re scrambling to hold on to the middle rungs. They have something to lose by being bullied, something to gain by bullying.
Sometimes the intersection of two events creates a rolling storm in my mind. That was the case with me, this morning. Last night I was so frustrated with the vice presidential debate. The demeanor of the participants reflected the bitter and rancorous divide in US politics. My Facebook feed has been flooded with negative diatribe from both sides, and the attitude behind the posts is of smug, arrogant, condescension, at best, and, at worst, contempt. Now anyone who has been to a marriage class or two will tell you that according to Dr. Gottman, contempt between marital partners one is the biggest predictor of future divorce.
And here’s my two cents. Our kids are being taught that it’s alright to judge others, and hold them in contempt. These kids who tormented, assaulted, and terrorized Amanda thought that they were justified, because she was worthy of their contempt. What a slut. What a whore. She deserves this because she showed off breasts to a guy over the internet. She slept with a guy who had a girlfriend. Dirty. Disgusting. Garbage.
One thing teenage kids lack is empathy. The capacity to put one’s self in another’s shoes, and try to feel what they feel. It’s why I don’t get into political fights on Facebook. I believe that all people, regardless of political stripe, are motivated by a belief that the system they espouse is best for society in general. I’m not crippled by the belief that people are liberals because they are lazy, useless or hopeless, trying to get by on the labour of others. I’m equally free from the notion that people are conservative because they are money-grubbing religious zealots who try to extort profits at the expense of the sick, the ignorant and the minority. I think kids are growing up in an atmosphere where too many of their parents, teachers, and adult role models are devoid of empathy. Anyone who thinks differently is a heretic.
The other thing that I think they lack is an understanding that doing something wrong doesn’t make you a bad person. Even adults struggle with this one. Guilt is a terrible poison that drains our self-worth and carries us down a slippery slide to wallowing in self-pity, self-loathing, and self-destruction. If we can’t see the value in ourselves, how can we see it in others? Why even try? Instead of loving, serving, and lifting others, we become the lobsters in a pot of boiling water who pull each other down to destruction.
So for Amanda’s sake, I promise that I will try a little harder every day to see the good in people. I promise to love others, even if they disagree with me. Even if they don’t share my values, beliefs, or lifestyle. I won’t make another feel worse, just so that I can fill a void in me. When I’m tempted to judge another, I’ll try to see in them what Christ sees in me: an imperfect person who can be changed by love and hope. And I promise that I will build up my kids, the way my good parents built me up, so that one day, if someone treats them as terribly as those kids treated Amanda, hopefully they’ll love themselves enough that I don’t have to feel what it’s like to lose them to suicide.
Tonight, I’ll be hugging them a little tighter.
grownupmonkey 