Words from a Bullied Mom

Stanley Polite and Stan Beckton. At age 41 I still remember the names of the two boys who bullied me (respectively) in elementary school and high school.  Looking back, I went to middle school unscathed by bullies because the school was full of awkward kids transitioning from elementary school to an environment that was supposedly designed to prepare you for the big move to high school.  Stanley Polite (Wow…what irony in that last name) was the meanest boy in elementary school.  I can’t remember a day in 5th or 6th grade where I didn’t run home because Stanley was bothering me.  I wasn't his only victim, but I know that me and another frail girl, Regina were his primary targets.  Stanley would run behind us and grope our beast (I guess in 5th grade it was just a chest) and rear ends and sometimes he’d grab you by the waist and dry-hump us like he was a wild dog.  He picked over my food at lunchtime and he would randomly smack you in the face when you least expected it. 

I remember one afternoon making a break for it.  I called myself getting a head start on the run home but Stanley caught me.  No groping this time though.  Instead he cornered me between a wall and a mud puddle and began to splash mud all over me.  I think that this incident prompted me to finally tell my parents about this kid.  Back then, there was no bully prevent week, no educational initiatives to counter bullying; just some old fashioned sage advice from my parents...you'll have to stand up for yourself and fight back.  Fast forward to high school and Stan Beckton.  I was truly a target in high school; greasy Jheri Curl, dark skinned with a tooth pick physique and Tough Skin jeans from Sears.  While a lot of kids picked on me, Stan was the worst.  Everyday Stan had something nasty to say to me that would garner huge laughs.  He had every dark girl joke in the book that he would hurl at me and the laughs would follow.  I finally fought back one day when Stan took it upon himself to play a joke on me by pulling my chair out from under me as I sat down.  I hit the floor, my glasses broke, and everyone laughed.  I don’t know where my energy came from but what happened next was out of character for me.

I picked up my chair and began to hit Stan with it. I was yelling and crying and can’t remember anyone trying to stop me, but once I realized what I had done (I broke his glasses too), I collected my things, went to the office and told the secretary what I did.  I called my mom and ask her to come and get me. Needless to say, Stan didn't bother me anymore. But why did it have to come to this.  Weren't my tears enough for him to see that he was hurting me?

I often wonder where Stanley Polite and Stan Beckton are, if they’re parents, and what type of children they have.  I wonder if they remember how many people they hurt with their teasing and bullying.  I also think about those people who stood by laughing or walked away secretly thanking God that they weren’t me. 

I didn’t grow up to be one of those adults who goes on the Maury show to confront my high school bully (You know the episodes I’m talking about…the ones where the nerdy high school girl turned triple D-cup exotic dancer confronts the guy who bullied her in high school and begs for an apology) but as a mom, I think about the impact that those two boys had on my life, and make it a point to talk to my children about their own actions. 

My children are all different:  we’ve got one cool kid (who’s a jokester at times), one creative kid who enjoys the arts, sports and everything in between (and who sometimes gets teased), and then there’s our little Lady Bug who’s a sweet girl who seems to be excepted by her preschool peers. (At the ripe old age of 1, our baby’s biggest challenge is the staircase).  We’ve wiped a few tears because hurtful things have been said or because someone is getting teased too much, but a few weeks ago we had a major bullying moment.  One of our sons was told in a nutshell that he didn’t have any friends and that he was nothing more than a tag-along.  My husband and I took time to talk about feeling, teasing and respect.  And we had to be real and say, this was mild compared to what some mean kids will say and do.  We also stressed the importance of them not bullying each other because in my experience, sometimes, the harshest words can come from those in your own family.

In September of this year, father, James Jones confronted his daughter’s bullies on the school bus after boys did everything from tease to throw condoms at her on the ride to and from school. While, I don’t condone his approach (the cursing, yelling, threats [see video]), it’s sad to say that  in this day and age, bullying has gotten so bad that drastic measure are a must.  My heart went out to this family because I’ve been where that little girl is and I know that the dad truly meant to do nothing more than protect his daughter.

http://abcnews.go.com/US/dad-loses-cool-threatens-students-bus/story?id=11660119&page=1

When I look back on my life, what has hurt me the most are harsh words said by people in the spirit of ugliness and a show of their own lack of self esteem and self worth.  As a mother I know I can’t protect my children from something that some may view as a natural part of growing up, but I can do my part to make sure my children don’t engage in bullying, don’t stand by idly while others are bullied and empower them with the knowledge of self-love and respect so their esteem won’t be challenged by those who find pleasure in breaking other’s spirits.