Sticks and Stones Can Break My Bones, But Words Hurt Forever

Do you have that one friend who always has to appear smarter than you are? Do they belittle you either publicly or privately, with comments or words that border on ridicule? Or perhaps they slyly make fun of you, in a way that they say is “joking” but really masks negative or hurtful opinions that if, heaven forbid, you said to them would make you a horrible person.  If so, you’ve been bullied.

Bullying is an epidemic, and it’s not just reserved for children. I had experience with it growing up, and I still experience it now. Of course, these days it’s mostly online, by “friends” commenting or saying things that they assume makes them sound smarter but in reality is really only an indication they're really insecure themselves and therefore their comments are probably not worthy of my time or concern. Of course, I’m old enough to realize that now, but it still doesn’t make it any less painful to have them write things that sound like supercilious know-it-all “you suck and I don’t” language in tweets, comments, emails or group texts. Once the words are out there, they’re there for all to see. I’m sure some of us still remember the adage “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” A nice thought, but in truth, the words hurt just as much as fists, sometimes more, and can haunt you long after your body heals.

It is not an easy thing to stand up to someone, particularly if that person is stronger, smarter, more popular, or just plain intimidating. Telling a child that a bully is in fact an insecure person who is using that “intimidation factor” to feel important may, in fact, help the child feel better about the situation, but it certainly won’t make what happened disappear. It is a rare child indeed who has the self-awareness to recognize the true nature behind the comments, and to not let the negative impact them. Even the most resilient kids are affected one way or another, and it doesn’t always take the same shape or sound like true intimidation, but it is just as impactful.

I can give you a personal example: My 13 year old is one of those rare children who is unusually self-aware and not generally affected by what people think. Yet he’s constantly making statements like (when driving up in front of a friend’s) “Oh no—she didn’t tell me she lives in a big house” or (behind someone in the car line driving a brand new Range Rover) “How much do you think that car is worth?” which he then follows with comments like “Never mind, it’s not a big deal.” That tells me my son has experienced intimidation based on the cars we drive and/or where we live. Never mind the cars were each $60K+ when new and our condo is nearly 2,000 square feet with 3 bedrooms, 3 baths and if we sold it would be near $1M; it’s the principal that we don’t appear to be in the same place as most of his classmates that has been reinforced to him. And that, in turn, has made him aware that he’s somehow not as “good” as his classmates, either.

All kids have experienced some sort of intimidation, and sometimes it’s good for them to recognize that there will always be someone smarter or stronger or wealthier than they are to give them a “reality check” if you will. It does keep you grounded to realize you’re not the best there is, period – because let’s face it, even Serena Williams loses a tennis match now and again. Treated the right way, it can motivate you to try your best, to be the best you can be. But it can easily get out of hand, even in the spirit of “healthy competition” (which, frankly, I have my reservations on even truly existing but that's a topic for another day). Even the most collaborative of teams have times where participants will gang up on one another or single out one member’s mistakes unfairly, and it can rapidly decay into a situation that could be classified as bullying.

Another example: My 17 year old is on the spectrum, but he’s high functioning and attends a traditional curriculum high school (with an IEP/Individualized Education Plan) where he plays on the Varsity football team. Yes, he’s teetered on academic ineligibility since the curriculum is difficult for him at times, but so has half the football team, most of which are not on IEPs. Yet my son has been called “retarded” by his teammates more times than I can count and solely for the reason that he receives (or is supposed to receive) special services. Most of these kids are, individually, good and kind, but when they get the “group think” thing going they can be brutal. All it takes is one to start it, and for the rest to jump on the bandwagon, and it becomes a bullying situation. And my son has resisted obtaining those services as a result, because it singles him out as “special”—the operative word here which has become a label that he hates more than being called “on the spectrum.”

People ask me, "Why don’t you just change schools?" We tried that once. Unfortunately we found that a different environment doesn’t always make for better circumstances. Even when you go to a school with a “zero tolerance” mandate for that type of behavior, you still see it in other ways. My 13 year old is a prime example of that since his school is one of those "zero tolerance" environments, yet he still experiences it even without actual verbal put-downs. The “group think” dynamic exists, whether it’s the popular kids being over the top stereotypically horrid (like they were in my school) or the as-dangerous-but-not-as-apparent silent hierarchy that singles out kids by lack of resources or “special needs” (that inadvertently provide them with those labels my older son balks at). It may not even be malicious, but it’s there, and eventually takes its toll whether it’s overtly noticeable or not.

Of course, there’s the Hollywood movie ending, where the bullied kids get their “just desserts” – like in “A Christmas Story” where little kind-hearted Ralphie ends up knocking the snot out of the much larger (and presumably older) nasty neighbor kid Scut Farkus who’s bullied Ralphie and his friends for years. We all cheered the first time we saw that scene, because of course we all thought that Farkus kid had it coming. But why is it the violence that’s the glorified solution here? Yes, maybe it helped Ralphie feel better, and maybe he earned some “points” with the kids at school, but I’m also thinking Farkus probably became the laughing stock of the neighborhood as a result – which in turn now makes him a victim.

We hear time and again that bullied kids are the ones that snap, that go on killing sprees or commit suicide because of the pain inflicted by those kids that were treating them unfairly. People ask, “How does that happen?” or “Where were the adults?” I don’t know that answer. I can tell you sometimes the adults involved can be just as at fault, by either inadvertently or openly encouraging the behavior thinking it’s going to “toughen up” the kid who’s the target. My older son still fears calling out those teammates that are less than kind given that used to ensure you were the team pariah; the perception was the hard-core attitudes made for stronger kids on the field. The new Coach has been awesome about addressing a "no put downs" agenda as much as he can, but unfortunately because it wasn’t the same situation in the past, that negative behavior still lingers.

Being a child is hard enough. We already put tremendous pressure on our kids every day to perform, to get top grades to achieve top academic awards, to get the best test scores to get into the best schools, to run the fastest times or the most yards in order to get a coveted scholarship. Add in the media's interpretation of what it looks like to be the best, the smartest, the coolest and/or the most athletic, and these kids are practically inundated with the idea that by the time they're pre-teens they're already somehow not measuring up. Throwing in bullying adds a whole other layer of pressure, and even the most self-actualized of kids can question their worth, their focus, their own selves. As parents we have to be diligent and ensure we're there for our kids and recognize the warning signs. You can't be ostriches with your heads in the sand telling yourself they'll grow out of it. Some of us do. But some don't. Don't fool yourself into thinking your kid will be the former. It wasn't until I was diagnosed as an Anorexic that my parents realized the bullying was really an issue.  Fortunately, I didn't end up suicidal, but my sister wasn't so lucky.

I’m not sure if there’s a perfect solution to all this. I’d welcome finding one. Kids grow up, but the scars from those years never leave them. I spent years in therapy and worked through thousands of hours of painful memories so I could try to “forgive and forget.” I wish things were perfectly sewed up in real life, and that I could comfortably say “Yeah, I was bullied, but I’m stronger for it.” Maybe that’s true, because yes I no longer wear my heart on my sleeve and yes I’m no longer crying in the bathroom because one of my “friends” made me feel like a complete idiot in front of everyone else. But I also have a really hard time letting people in, and I’ve gone from an extrovert to an introverted isolationist. I use sarcasm to avert my own feelings of inadequacy: I’m never strong enough, smart enough, good enough. It’s an uphill climb every damn day. I still battle with confidence, and I trust failure more than success. Trust me, I’m not healed; I’m healing, although I’m not sure I’ll ever be done. There are layers to those scars, and they run deep.

And my sons? Well, my sons are still in their fragile teenage years, and I’m trying my hardest to keep them from taking those negative stereotypes and thoughts to heart. But you can’t protect them forever. You can only try to be a supportive, caring parent, who practices and enforces a culture of tolerance and fairness. And allow for mistakes, because trust me, everyone says negative crap now and again that can be interpreted as malicious. My sons humble me for it constantly. So it does go both ways, and I appreciate that my kids are learning that it’s okay to speak up, and that zero tolerance is not a “nice to have”, it’s a “must have” – but also a constant work in progress.