Lady Reader's Bookstuff: Carmen Rodrigues on Bullying

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Carmen Rodrigues on Bullying

7:30 AM | Posted by lady reader |

Carmen Rodrigues shares her Bully experience.

Coming from a decent-sized family, I was used to being teased from an early age. Some might call teasing bullying, and if that’s the case, some might say that I was a bully. And by some, I mean my younger brother.

I can say that my siblings and I were frequently cruel to one another. We often hit, ganged up on, and criticized each other. In our defense, we were children suffering through our parents’ extremely bad marriage. In the wake of that perpetual chaos, we were, predictably, lashing out at each other, because who else could we lash out at?

The teasing always hurt. I remember crying to my mother every time my older sister called me ugly (a frequent occurrence when I was six and seven), and my mother’s less than sensitive response, “Well, are you?” To her, the answer seemed obvious (of course not), but to me, it was never quite clear. I could only think, Am I?

I guess you could say that my family toughened me up. To be honest, this toughening up was pretty helpful when it came to surviving in an overcrowded public school system. I remember being picked on during my first week at a new school in sixth grade. A popular girl wanted to fight me after I stood up for myself during a verbal confrontation on the kickball field. (She said something mean to me, and I told her to shut up.) Because I was so used to fighting, I readily accepted the challenge, which, like my mouthiness, surprised her. I was a very quiet, introverted eleven-year-old, more inclined to read a book than talk during class breaks. But I was used to fighting. I was even pretty good at it by that point. I had an untapped well of anger that, when it actually rose up in me, was so powerful that I often found myself afraid of it.

So the popular girl and I met after school. I was accompanied by my younger brother and a classmate, who had, for whatever reason, decided to be my friend. My nemesis was accompanied by what seemed like half of the sixth-grade. The fight was brief. I think she spent most of it talking. I can’t say that anyone won. There was shoving, and I landed a pretty good kick—the only blow to be dealt—before someone called out, “Teacher!” and we all scattered.

The next day, my nemesis sent another girl to ask if we might be friends. Again, I readily agreed. I didn’t enjoy fighting. I was happier being left alone with my books. And I was left alone, I think, because of that fight, because I had chosen to defend myself from that first moment, sending out a clear message to any would-be bullies that I would, at the very least, fight back.

So this is a good thing, right? I stood up to a bully. But in reflection, the adult me cringes at this story, because my fearlessness was derived from continual encounters with aggression in my home, and if it weren't for that, I would have been afraid of hitting another person. I would have been afraid of violating that girl’s personal space. These fears are healthy. They keep us from crossing boundaries. But the truth is I wasn't afraid of being cruel, not if it was in my own self-defense. In my own defense, I could use my fists and my sharp tongue without regret. I had, as my mother desired, been appropriately toughened up.

I didn’t realize until I was in my thirties what a disservice this thick skin was to me. I remember just a few years ago when I was doling out some unnecessary tough love to a friend, she cried and told me that I had “hurt her feelings.” I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that she still held her feelings in such high regard. It wasn't until years later that I realized how lovely it was that she could immediately access pain or happiness. I certainly couldn’t. I had toughened up to the point of not really feeling anything, unless the feelings were extreme.

Maybe that’s some of what happens to us when we are bullied, either by siblings-gone-wild in a large dysfunctional family or insensitive classmates. We become so compartmentalized that we lose our ability to really experience the emotional journey of our lives, and we deride those who still can.

In some ways we think, how dare they? How dare they feel life in real time? How dare they be so sensitive? Because we’re not. Because teasing/toughening up/bullying (whatever you want to call it) has stolen from us one of the most fundamental components of our humanity—our ability to empathize with ourselves and with others. Those of us who toughen up end up with skin so thick that if we’re sliced open by another person, we barely feel it. Even worse, we don’t question that person’s right to injure us or others. “That’s just life,” we say. But is it?

Perhaps, it’s not. Perhaps the world would be better if we were all a little less tough and a lot more sensitive. For years, I hated that word, because that’s what my mother would call me when I would run to her crying over my sister’s latest taunt. She’d say, “You need to toughen up. You can’t be so sensitive.” I began to believe that sensitivity was a sign of weakness, but it’s quite the opposite. It’s a sign of strength, the belief that your feelings matter enough to be considered despite the discomfort or inconvenience that it might cause to others.

In my thirties, I am finally thinning out my skin, reclaiming a gamut of simple but pleasurable emotions that were once lost to me, and also in the process, developing a sense of empathy towards others that has opened my eyes to a more beautiful existence, empty of judgment and filled with acceptance.

Now, I openly cry when I hold newborn babies and willingly relinquish my sarcasm stick, opting for straightforward, kinder language in times of conflict. When something hurts me, I try to act as my lovely friend did that day, by speaking the truth, not the pain. I say, “That really hurt me,” knowing that there is no shame in talking about core responses to negative behavior. That we all deserve to be treated with kindness and dignity and that others are responsible for their cruelty. That our boundaries should always be respected. That no one—sibling, parent, classmate, teacher—has the right to take that from you. And most importantly, that there is beauty in being vulnerable in safe places with safe people.

Carmen Rodrigues is the author of 34 PIECES OF YOU and NOT ANYTHING. She earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of North Carolina Wilmington.

For more, visit her at www.carmenrodrigues.com. Or become a friend on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/thisismyhandstand.

1 comments:

Allison Kirk said...: Wow. I've never really thought about what a negative impact forcing people, especially kids to "not be too sensitive." Great post.

Alli
mrscaptkirk51.blogspot.com; November 1, 2012 at 2:13 AM