It seems as if a lot of attention has been paid to bullying as of late. Stories of kids hurting themselves, court cases, even celebrities getting in on the action by admitting they were bullied as kids, too. I don't know if it's my perception of disproportionate media attention, but I feel like maybe it's the norm to be bullied? I don't really know because I grew up in the 90s when bullying wasn't really a thing. If a kid made fun of you in school and you told a teacher it was "tattling," or if you told your parents they would just tell you not to pay any attention and get the fuck over it [or at least that's what my parents did]. Whatever the case, I can tell you that I'm in the minority when it comes to bullying.
I was fat, awkward, and weird looking. That trifecta of social ostracism should have held me back in school but it never bothered me that I only ever had two or three friends. I was always picked last in gym class, I hated "Wellness Wednesdays" (30 minutes of continuous running), and the rare rainy days that we spent doing gymnastics indoors would set me off into cold sweats. But I persisted. I never felt the need to be apologetic or ashamed of my body. I was unusually tall for my age and everyone in my family was fat; it made perfect sense to me that I was meant to be that way. I knew that things were said about me, but I miraculously grew up with a strong sense of self-esteem and any person who was bold enough to criticize me to my face was likely to feel my rage ten-fold. True story: a kid who made fun of me for being fat in 4th grade never did it again after I put him in his place. I won't repeat what I said to him because it was absolutely brutal, but even at 9 years old I had a vigorous sense of justice and I felt like the only way to stop this kid from hurting me was to hurt him back. To this day I feel awful about the words I spewed at him but my experiment proved successful and he never said a mean thing to me again.
Sure, it sucked going to the stores and not being able to shop in the girls' section, I had matured into juniors' and women's sizes way too early but that wasn't entirely due to my weight. You see, I was almost 5 feet tall by the time I reached elementary school and I measured a whopping 5'7" when I was 11 years old. Pants never fit me, not at the waist and definitely not in the leg. In 6th grade a popular skinny girl once laughed at me for having high-water pants in front of everyone at recess. So I called her an immigrant... in front of everyone at recess. Of course I knew my pants were too short and of course I was embarrassed by it, but we were poor and I was abnormally tall and there was nothing my 12 year old self could do about that, so I made peace early on with the factors that were beyond my control. I'll never forget the look on that girl's face as she laughed at my pants, but I also will never forget the look on that girl's face as I taught her what it feels like to be publicly shamed.
News flash: I can buy new pants, you will always be an asshole.
Looking back on it, I know beyond a doubt that I am in the minority group when it comes to bullying. I wasn't bullied because I was the bully. If I could go back and apologize to all the people I hurt it would be a half-apology along the lines of, "I'm sorry for hurting you but you hurt me first." I hit below the belt, hard and often, but I never threw the first punch. I've spent a lot of time pondering my defensive reflexes and you don't have to dig very deep to find the source: I, the bully, had a bully too. If you follow the trail of pain you'll find that people only act this way... people only hurt other people because they're being hurt themselves. It's not that I wanted to cause permanent emotional scars to my peers but I think this was my psyche's way of dealing with my own pain from the bullying I suffered at home. And if you follow that path, you'll find that my personal bully was being hurt by someone too.
It took years before I ever found out why my bully, my sister, acted the way she did, and it's certainly not a topic to be discussed here (or anywhere. ever.) but it provided powerful insights into the trajectory of pain and gave me control over my own healing process.
The thing that has baffled me about bullying in general is how people choose to criticize things that cannot be controlled. And the cycle never stops and it serves no purpose. I had a shocking exchange with my brother a few weeks ago; he's young but he's very well aware of the struggles my entire family has had with weight, and he's been witnessing my personal transformation over the last couple of years which is why this scene struck me as so poignant. My family and I were playing games around the dining room table (a common occurrence at my parents' house) when I won a round of cards. I joyfully fist-pumped into the air, being merciless in my taunting (LOSERS, LOOOOOSERS) when my brother brought my arm fat to my attention.
Yes, I have arm fat, I said to him. What do you want me to do about it?
He stared at me blankly for a few seconds, and then mimicked with his left arm and his right hand what was happening with my chicken wings. I was patient, I let him finish before I asked, Are you done? I don't think he was expecting that reaction and everyone in the room got uncomfortably quiet. He tried to rouse up some laughter, hoping that he wasn't alone in the criticism of my wobbly arms but no one else was laughing. I gave him a chance to backpedal but nothing came of it.
"I work out more than everyone in this room. I eat well, I run, I lift weights," I said. "So what's your point? What do you want me to do about my arms? Right in this moment, what do you want me to do?"
He sheepishly said, "I was just pointing it out."
Yes, buy why? You think I didn't know? You think this is the first time I've noticed?
It was as if all the room had been sucked out of the air, everyone was struggling to find breath but finding nothing available. My brother reacted violently, he threw his cards on the table, said "fuck this" and went to his room. I honestly don't know what point he was trying to make or what he expected to happen, but worse, I think it made everyone uncomfortable that I chose to defend myself. I can't tell you what happened in my development that I was instilled/blessed/gifted with this unwavering confidence, but it's nearly heartbreaking to know that people are okay to stand by and watch bullying in all its forms but are uncomfortable when the persecuted fight back. All I know is that right now in this very moment, I am the way I am. Deal with it.
So next time someone is being mean to you, know that their pain is coming from a real place. I've learned in my life not to hate these people but to pity them... because at the end of the day, I am beautiful and no one can change that. No one can change you but you.
