In different settings and circumstances, I have become the bully and the bullied one. I was the former in my elementary years when I considered myself as the intellectually superior kid over my other classmates. I would walk around the classroom in third and fourth grade with a stick in my hand and force my classmates to read passages from the book. Whenever I heard a misspelled word, I hit their hand with a light swift of my dear stick.
So I thought of writing these four scenarios involving the bully and the bullied one with the declared selfish interest of letting these experiences go, to unload my heavy heart that has been lately gaining unhealthy weight from exhaustion, hatred, and disappointments.
There are no scientific steps or research-based claims in this post. These are purely from personal experiences and real life stories that were told to me by friends and family members.
So I told you about my dear stick and how I used it to punish my classmates. Apart from misspelled words, I also used the stick to check for clean nails and hands. If there is any speck of dust in those nails, the force of hand will unleash its wrath. No adult taught me to do that. I guess I just saw it done by adults. Well, values – and actions – are caught, not taught.
A classmate named Glenn was furious about what he was doing but he kept his anger until he couldn’t take it no more. He had a ballpoint pen in his hands. He was about to stab me with it when another classmate, Rodney saw him and took away the ballpen from his hands.
Our teacher never heard of the story. I was afraid but I was stubborn so I did not stop mocking Glen. I told him to go get himself a nail trimmer and try practicing cleanliness for a while. I was harsh, I know. Later, in sixth grade, he told me that experience humiliated him very much and he felt very little of himself.
Most of classmates, who were afraid that I won’t be friends with them anymore, laughed with me when I was bullying Glenn. But I knew that I was doing was wrong. But I did it because I felt I was in control, that I was the governing power in my little kingdom while the teacher was away.
In high school, I had some male classmates who called me names. At one point, I was referred to as a witch. I don’t really blame them. My hair was frizzy and my face was full of acne. But seriously, I knew already that I looked like a witch… can they just be kinder and not rub salt on my open wound?
For days, I wanted to stop the name calling. I planned individual confrontations and classroom outbursts. But I was new to the school and didn’t have many friends. So I kept it inside – at least for a while – because I was afraid that if I confronted them, the treatment will be harsher securing a miserable high school life for me. I was also afraid of being labeled as a coward, for not sucking up to the hard life that high school threw at me. So the bullying continued… So I just decided to study more to drown out the harsh words. Thankfully, my strategy worked and by the end of my sophomore year, I became the No.1 student in my class.
Sometimes the bully is not really the bad kid but is also the object of bullying. She maybe pressured by friends to say harsh words or spread nasty rumors about the target person (perceived as the victim) but she is doing it to gain social acceptance. Who wants to be bullied? No one, of course.
But there are cases when the bullied one allows herself to be mistreated to gain social acceptance. Case in point: Let’s take Angela, a girl I met in one of the storytelling sessions I attended. She is top of her class but unaccepted in a private school where almost all female students looked like models. Some classmates call her the walking encyclopedia but makes fun of her not-so-great voice. Classmates call her upfront during break times to sing just so they can laugh about her off-keyed notes. Angela can sing better but she purposely sings horribly to make the class laugh. She gains social acceptance by doing so.
Somewhere underneath all the giggles and the scowls, the bully is unhappy because she knows – in the deepest recesses of her heart – that what she is doing is wrong. The bullied one is also unhappy. Public humiliation is too much to bear.
I will never get tired of writing or talking about bullying. It is one of those issues that I feel so strongly about because I have been in both sides of the fence. It is not difficult for me to feel what the bully and the bullied one are thinking and feeling.
If you are bullied, please feel free to send me a message (It’s readingruffolos in Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Tumblr, Twitter). I will be happy to talk to you.
If you are the bully, my doors – and emails – are very much open to welcome you too.
Let’s talk.
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