Sorry.

In junior high, as I discovered "chat rooms," I had developed an alter ego who was 19, from California, and male, under the name of Billy McBean. This was my typical response where the common question would arise, "A/S/L( Age, Sex, Location)?" I figured 19 was safe and due to being nowhere near California, nobody could, “figure me out.” I created the name from a kid I knew in elementary school whose last name was different, but for sake of embarrassment on the world wide web, I figure I'm best at leaving that next part out. 

Billy lived in what appeared to be squalor on the edge of my small town. He wasn’t too far from where I lived, though I determined, miles away socially. Billy might have had some sort of learning disability, or at least emotional disturbances due to home conditions, something that indicated a “difference.” Unfortunately as kids go, this, “difference” was noticeable and used against him from the bus rides to school, to the playground, and all throughout his, "special" classes. The biggest problem Billy had socially, wasn’t that he was “different,” or “poor,” but that he was quick to anger and would say some pretty prominent threats as a result. This response was enough to keep the fire of laughter a roaring and continue to be his life as people chose to make fun of his clothes or flick his ear for no reason. 

As Innocent as I would like to portray myself in this scenario, I wasn’t. As bullying goes, even by simply sitting back and watching, observing, thanking God it isn’t me who was getting the brunt of it that morning, I was guilty. I was guilty of not just a defense, protecting myself, but on the offense too. When I felt inadequate or on top of the moment, too far either way, resulted in my behaviors of destruction on another. I laughed, just like everyone else did. I watched as his old, 3^rd-hand t-shirts with stripes from what appeared to be the 70’s were gawked, belittled, and discounted as dirty, smelly, and worthy of the discord he must have felt from almost the entire class. 

At times, girls who were popular would step up and defend, but then he would take it the wrong way and try to be friends, only to be let down worse than the jokes made him feel, for that was a broken heart. Though I do not know his entire day, or life at home, I could tell that he was slightly neglected due to the unkempt appearance displayed, as well as the daily reminder, as we were on the same bus route, his being the only stop where the bus driver had enough sympathy to break the routine of a honk and a leave. The bus driver knew that if he wasn’t picked up, he probably wouldn’t be at school that day. 

There were times where I could see that the, "harmless" bullying wasn’t, "harmless" at all and instead, downright mean. I was never an agitator of the physical type, like some kids who constantly flicked his ears, or poked his overweight belly. No, but still, I was just as guilty as the other kids, even more so, because I knew better. I have to admit that I wish ignorance was my friend in terms of what bullying does to a person, even at the time, but it wasn’t, I knew. I knew what he was going through, and I saw the sadness in his face. I witnessed him crying to be left alone, times when things went too far and his backpack was dumped, or a child-like drawing was messed up, those things I didn’t agree with, but what else did I do, but turn around, face forward, embrace the coward I was. 

I was reminded of Billy this morning as I was at the gym, and I saw a person who slightly resembled the face I recall of this childhood acquaintance. I remembered his entire name, and then all the memories came flashing back, memories where I felt guilt, shame, and a reminder that though bullying may be described as malicious and vindictive, in the moment, when you might be the next victim of it, you’re just grateful it isn’t you. It took a really assertive person to stand up for Billy, something a few kids did, but it wasn’t enough. If the collective would have respected his differences and if I would have been more assured in myself, I could have been an  advocate for him and against bullying in general, despite my own history of being on the sharp side of the stick. 

I could say that bullying is bad, but we know that. Right or wrong isn’t the question here, neither is understanding the motive, what needs to be understood is the insidious nature of it, the subtle comments and how persecution doesn’t change the result, because it doesn’t address the problem. What has to happen is a culture shift, a different perspective of appreciating differences, even that of the, “less fortunate.” Embracing and actually looking up to differences for what we can learn and how we can adapt and cope for our future adult selves. Parent’s don’t just teach kids to be nice because it’s what they should do, the world is full of shoulds and shouldn’ts, but teach them to be fascinated and appreciate what every living human soul brings to the equation. 

I don't believe bullying made me develop disordered eating, or body image disorders,it was my own inability to regulate a self that had to perform for the satisfaction of others. My entire story, Here. 

God Bless.