Refusing to Be Bullied
In 4th grade, I did a terrible thing.
As a plot to get the popular girls to like me, I wrote a mean message (anonymously) on the unpopular kid's birthday banner. My teacher (who I loved very much) pulled me aside (after the popular girls told on me, obviously) and told me what a terrible thing I had done and how disappointed she was in me. She expected better.
Thankfully, I think this made me feel the full gravity of being mean to someone just to get in someone else's good favor. Thankfully, I learned this lesson when I was very young. Thankfully, I was course corrected at a very young age to not care too much about popularity, and care a little bit more about my interactions with people.
Bullies are not incredibly fun people to be around. Nothing anyone (other than themselves) can do is ever done correctly. Correction is given in a condescending or outrightly mean manner. Bullies are never looking out for your interests, only theirs.
Genetically, I am predisposed to fall prey to the bullies.
I love telling two-part stories.
Once, I had a neighbor who was a bully. She would get into these mean email exchanges with one of my roommates and anytime we ever said hello, trying to be neighborly, we would always be corrected with something we had done wrong.
One night, I was out grilling and pretty excited to be using the grill for the first time. Not everybody gets to have a grill. It's a luxury in the life of an apartment-dwelling-non-home-owning young adult. I started up the grill and went back inside to grab the sweet potatoes and quesadillas. When I came back out, neighbor was out gardening. I inwardly took a deep breath and rolled my eyes at the heavens and went about my business without saying hello.
Before she went inside, she must have gotten my attention because she abruptly followed up with "Next time you use the grill, can you move it further away from the house?"
I don't think I responded, and just looked at her. She followed up with some sentence with "asbestos" and "siding" and "burn the house down."
I snapped responding in my "mean-girls-angry-voice" with "Um, Yeah. Thanks a lot for letting me know." Pulling attitude the whole time and dripping with sarcasm.
She just stared.
I backed down. "Um, you never say things nicely. Next time you could just say it nicer (more words here) and it would be fine."
More staring. And then,
"Get over yourself!"
And because I was already in a good mood ("good" meaning up for a fight since I'd already tried to explain myself in a reasonable way), I responded in a sing-songy voice "You to-oo!" followed up with a smile.
Her hand rapidly went to her hip. "Get over yourself!"
"You tooo-ooo" with another flashy smile. I can't remember if it was in my head or real life that I also gave a little wave.
At which point neighbor went inside.
I have not run into neighbor again just yet, but man, that was a super rough interaction.
Bullies.
I told the first part of the story because, bullying back is a thing I try really hard not to do. I think deep inside of me, I know there lie dormant some manipulation tactics and ability to get my way if I just say the perfect mean things. I have the capability to be her. Remember when I fell in love with Wallace's "This is Water" and that post I wrote about it (here)? I think this is another one of those places that I just can't go on automatic. It's a critical thinking step to decide when it is ok to not take bullying and when to just let things go their way.
And for all the bullying and the standing up for myself in this story, it didn't make me feel better. I was hating that it happened for 3 full days, and hating that I had sunk to that level of interaction. I am finally at a point where I can write about it without feeling discomfort. It is actually a sadly funny story that two adults can end an interaction with a volley of "get over yourself" and "you too."
It would have been nice to be different, but I had lived with neighbor for over a year and I knew that she would always bully and for my own sanity needed her to know that I just wasn't going to take it.
As a plot to get the popular girls to like me, I wrote a mean message (anonymously) on the unpopular kid's birthday banner. My teacher (who I loved very much) pulled me aside (after the popular girls told on me, obviously) and told me what a terrible thing I had done and how disappointed she was in me. She expected better.
Thankfully, I think this made me feel the full gravity of being mean to someone just to get in someone else's good favor. Thankfully, I learned this lesson when I was very young. Thankfully, I was course corrected at a very young age to not care too much about popularity, and care a little bit more about my interactions with people.
Bullies are not incredibly fun people to be around. Nothing anyone (other than themselves) can do is ever done correctly. Correction is given in a condescending or outrightly mean manner. Bullies are never looking out for your interests, only theirs.
Genetically, I am predisposed to fall prey to the bullies.
I love telling two-part stories.
Once, I had a neighbor who was a bully. She would get into these mean email exchanges with one of my roommates and anytime we ever said hello, trying to be neighborly, we would always be corrected with something we had done wrong.
One night, I was out grilling and pretty excited to be using the grill for the first time. Not everybody gets to have a grill. It's a luxury in the life of an apartment-dwelling-non-home-owning young adult. I started up the grill and went back inside to grab the sweet potatoes and quesadillas. When I came back out, neighbor was out gardening. I inwardly took a deep breath and rolled my eyes at the heavens and went about my business without saying hello.
Before she went inside, she must have gotten my attention because she abruptly followed up with "Next time you use the grill, can you move it further away from the house?"
I don't think I responded, and just looked at her. She followed up with some sentence with "asbestos" and "siding" and "burn the house down."
I snapped responding in my "mean-girls-angry-voice" with "Um, Yeah. Thanks a lot for letting me know." Pulling attitude the whole time and dripping with sarcasm.
She just stared.
I backed down. "Um, you never say things nicely. Next time you could just say it nicer (more words here) and it would be fine."
More staring. And then,
"Get over yourself!"
And because I was already in a good mood ("good" meaning up for a fight since I'd already tried to explain myself in a reasonable way), I responded in a sing-songy voice "You to-oo!" followed up with a smile.
Her hand rapidly went to her hip. "Get over yourself!"
"You tooo-ooo" with another flashy smile. I can't remember if it was in my head or real life that I also gave a little wave.
At which point neighbor went inside.
I have not run into neighbor again just yet, but man, that was a super rough interaction.
Bullies.
I told the first part of the story because, bullying back is a thing I try really hard not to do. I think deep inside of me, I know there lie dormant some manipulation tactics and ability to get my way if I just say the perfect mean things. I have the capability to be her. Remember when I fell in love with Wallace's "This is Water" and that post I wrote about it (here)? I think this is another one of those places that I just can't go on automatic. It's a critical thinking step to decide when it is ok to not take bullying and when to just let things go their way.
And for all the bullying and the standing up for myself in this story, it didn't make me feel better. I was hating that it happened for 3 full days, and hating that I had sunk to that level of interaction. I am finally at a point where I can write about it without feeling discomfort. It is actually a sadly funny story that two adults can end an interaction with a volley of "get over yourself" and "you too."
It would have been nice to be different, but I had lived with neighbor for over a year and I knew that she would always bully and for my own sanity needed her to know that I just wasn't going to take it.
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