Stop the Cycle of Violence

I've been seeing a lot of anti-bullying posts on Facebook lately. Normally what I would do is edit for spelling, and then post it on my own status, but it doesn't seem like that's enough. Sure, it's easy to copy and paste - we all do it. But, does the message really sink in?

The following is the post I'm talking about:

"The girl you just called fat? She is overdosing on diet pills. The girl you just called ugly? She spends hours putting makeup on, hoping people will like her. The boy you just tripped? He is abused enough at home. See that man with the ugly scars? He fought for our country. That guy you just made fun of for crying? His mother is dying. Put this on your status for an hour, if you are against bullying. You never know what it's like until you walk a mile in their shoes."

It would be impossible to describe all of the people who are bullied all across the world. The stereotypical ones are listed above, but they are not the only ones. The fact is, it's easy to bully the fat kid, the ugly kid, the emotional kid, the quiet kid who always keeps to him/herself. Kids like that present easy targets for bullies, but they aren't the only ones who have to deal with physical, verbal, and emotional abuse.

No one feels sorry for the cheerleader who get knocked down a peg or two by a mob of "outcasts". No one feels sorry for the football champion who pushes just a little too hard, and finally gets his "comeuppance". People don't think that the "pretty people" have to deal with the same problems ... those people are wrong.

Bullying happens everywhere, and it can happen to anyone.

Would it surprise you to know that it's more common for a girl to be a bully, than it is for a boy? I'm sure it would, and there's a simple reason for that: girls often bully those closest to them, girls who they would outwardly consider friends. Girls are sneaky, manipulate, and monumentally more cruel than boys. When a boy bullies, it's usually with straight up, physical violence.

The following is from the March 30, 2010 news report following the death of Phoebe Prince, a victim of bullying:

"Nine teenagers have been charged over the death of a 15-year-old Irish migrant who killed herself after months of merciless and sometimes violent bullying by fellow students at a Massachusetts school.

Phoebe Prince took her life in January in desperation at harassment led by female students who resented her dating an older American football player.

Six of the teenagers, four females and two males, face charges ranging from criminal harassment, stalking and breach of civil rights over the bullying which included text messages and abuse on Facebook.

The male students are also charged with statutory rape, apparently over relationships they had with Prince. Three younger girls, aged under 16, face delinquency charges. One has also been charged with assault with a dangerous weapon, listed as a bottle or can. Prince hanged herself at home at the end of a day at South Hadley high school in which she was bullied repeatedly by three students, including one she had a brief relationship with.

District attorney Elizabeth Scheibel said that on the day Prince killed herself she was verbally abused as she studied in the school library and pursued in the corridors. The teenagers then followed her as she walked home.

"From information known to investigators thus far, it appears that Phoebe's death on January 14th followed a tortuous day for her, in which she was subjected to verbal harassment and threatened physical abuse," said Scheibel. "Their [the students'] conduct far exceeded the limits of normal teenage relationship-related quarrels."

The district attorney said at least one school official observed the bullying but failed to report it.
Three of the students have since been expelled from the school.

The Massachusetts legislature has passed tough new anti-bullying laws in response to Prince's death and that of 11-year-old Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover, who also took his own life. The legislation would oblige schools to take action when they are informed about bullying.

Prince's death is one of several in recent months that have been attributed to bullying. The police in New York are investigating whether cyberbullying played a role in the decision of 17-year-old Alexis Pilkington to take her own life a fortnight ago. The attacks on her continued after her death on an internet page set up in tribute to Pilkington.

In Missouri, 13-year-old Megan Meier took her own life in 2006 after taunts from a fellow student's mother." 

How many Phoebe Prince's are out there? Bullying is such a small word to describe a catastrophic epidemic that sweeps the entire world. How many young men and women are harassed by their peers for having something that they don't? How many young men and women are ostracized from their peers, verbally and physically abused on a daily basis? How much of this do we even see?

It's easy to punish the popular kid who picks on the smaller, "dorky-looking" kid, but how many people ask the bully "why did you do that?", AND sincerely want to know? The fact is, almost every bully that exists was bullied by someone else. Whether it be a parent, sibling, friend, or other peer.

Bullies are not always the tough-looking jock who everybody either respects or fears. Bullies are not always the pretty Homecoming Queen who always gets her way. These are the stereotypes that have been seared into our minds by teen soaps and bad movies. Bullies are everywhere, and almost every "bully" is a victim of some form of abuse, as well.

I'm not going to make a status post about how bad people should feel for bullying others. I'm not going to make a status post about how only misunderstood outcasts get bullied, and everyone else is just evil. I'm not going to go on a crusade to rescue the "little guy", and put the "bad guy" on display for the world to see. Instead, I'm going to say this: We live in a world where picking on other kids, and making them feel worse than we do is far too common of an occurrence. It needs to stop. All of it. Parents need to stop abusing their children, kids need to stop hurting their peers, and victims need to stop hurting themselves. Stop the cycle of violence - bully and bullied alike.

My Heart Hurts

Today, a very special woman died. I didn't know her very well, but she was very important to my sister, to my mother, and to many other people whose lives she touched. My sister knew her as "Auntie Joan". She was her favorite babysitter, and a woman she respected and loved. My mother knew her as "Mom". My mother's parents died when she was very young, so Joan became a surrogate mother to her.

I only met Joan a handful of times. She used to sell fruit on the side of the highway, and mom would take us on visits to see her. They would play crib, which was a favorite pastime of theirs. My mom never smiled as much as when she was with Joan.

Recently, Joan went into palliative care - she had bone cancer, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to beat it. She knew that it was her time, but she was never sad or depressed about it.

Mom got to visit her a few times before she died. It was hard for her, but she managed it. She never let herself cry in front of Joan, because she didn't want to make her feel bad; her tears were always saved for the hallway.

Joan had many visitors before she died. She was very well-loved. We went up to see her once more just before we went camping. She fed our foster kids Cheesies, chatted with mom, reminisced about good times, and took us on a tour of the hospital. Though she lacked the physical strength to stand, her mental and emotional strength was radiant. She gave the kids - whom she'd just met - lots of hugs, and let them ride on her lap in her wheelchair. She laughed and joked, even when she was in pain. Mom promised to come back and play crib with her.

We got back from our camping trip Sunday night, and mom spent most of Monday unpacking and cleaning. I'm sure a trip to Edmonton wasn't too far away, so she could see her 'Mom' again, and let her know how much she loved her.

Today, Tuesday morning, she got a call from Joan's husband. Joan died.

My mother almost never cries. In the last two years, I've seen her break down in tears only three times: When her Great Aunt, our "Grandma Lucy" died, when our cousin Jeff died, and now, when Auntie Joan died. I hate seeing her cry.

It's so easy to think of her as a strong, hardened woman. She hides her emotions very well, to the point where you can usually only see two: happy, and angry. I am very well-practiced at making her angry. Happy Mom I embrace. Angry Mom I can deal with. Sad Mom hurts my heart, because I can't fix her.

Why is the heart such a hard muscle to deal with? Why can't we heat it up, stretch it out, and rest it from time to time to take away the pain?

I had to take my books back to the library today, and I asked Mom if there was anything I could get her before I left. This was her response: "650 bottles of Whiskey. The secrets of the universe. Why good people have to die before their time is up."

Well, I don't drink, so the Whiskey was out. If I knew the secrets of the universe, I would gladly give them to her. As for the last bit, this is the only answer I have: "Life sucks." Sure, it can be wonderful, exciting, incredible, and fulfilling at times. But, when the people that you love die, life just sucks. It sucks because you can't join them. It sucks because all you have left is your memories of them, and memories are never enough.

August is a hard month. Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of the death of my first dog and best friend, George. After he died, my friend and mentor, Katie, told me that he'd never be gone, 'cause he would always be inside my heart. I would never be without him, as long as I never forgot him. People tell that to kids all the time to make them feel better. What I didn't say to her was this: "I'll never, ever forget him, but I'll never have him back, either. It's not the same - memories aren't the same. Memories are hollow, ghostly imitations of the real thing. You can‘t talk to a memory. You can‘t hug a memory. You can‘t rest your head on a memory‘s shoulder and cry until you feel better." My heart broke that day, and it's never really healed. It never will.

The thing about hearts, is that they get a little bit harder with every loss that we face. George, Sylvia, Jack, Auntie Marion, Uncle Frank, Grandma Lucy, Jeff, Ashlynn, Auntie Joan ... every time I lose someone, a little piece of my breaks, and eventually, that break has to be sealed over and hardened - if it weren't, I'd never be able to cope.

I can't begin to imagine how hard my mom's heart is. She had two parents who loved her, and they both died too young. I've told her once before that I would gladly let my dad trade places with hers, if she could have him back. I have no love left for my father, so getting my Grandpa Leiman back would seem like a pretty good trade. Sadly, the world doesn't work like that. We can wish and hope and pray (for those of you who believe in praying) that those we love will come back to us, or never leave in the first place.

I lost my faith when I was eleven years old. When George died, I couldn't bring myself to believe in a god that would let that happen. Over the years, I've rationalized that if there was a god, it wouldn't be his place to save or kill my dog. I don't blame "god" for my dog dying. But in these past ten years, I haven't seen anything to restore my faith, either. When Sylvia was sick, I didn't pray to "god" to keep her alive. When she died, I sent a plea up to my Baby George to take care of her, wherever they were. When Jack died, I sent a plea to the both of them to welcome him back and take care of him.

Today, when I came up the stairs, and Mom grabbed me and started crying, my first thought was, "Not Auntie Glad. Please don't let it be Auntie Glad." It wasn't, and I was relieved, but I was also sad. Sad for my mom. Sad for Joan's family. Sad for every person whose life she touched, who will have to go on without her now. Sad for all the hearts that just broke a little bit more.

I don't believe in god, but I do believe in Heaven. I do believe that when we die, we go to a better place. I hope that Joan is in that better place now. I hope that her pain is gone. I hope that George, Sylvia, Jack, Auntie Marion, Uncle Frank, Grandma Lucy, Jeff, and Ashlynn are taking very good care of her.

Someday it will get better. Someday, my mom's broken heart will seal over, and she'll be able to smile again. I hope that day will come soon, because I don't like it when she's sad. When she's sad, my heart hurts for her, and I need to be strong for her.

Rest in peace, Joan Murray - you are loved, and you will always be remembered.