This needs to be shared, and should be read closely by anyone who is following the major steps in the evolution of psychological awareness that are taking place. Setting the scene real fast. THis week the issue of bullying came up in the NFL, where a player simply walked out on a team due to alleged abuse. Given the announcers and analysts that make drama out of everything, there has been a ton of discussion on the subject. So I am on the Rams bulletin board, the healthiest one, with plenty of rules, that does not tolerant anything less than the highest standards for behavior. A man had a conversation with his son, who is out of high school I suspect but still young enough to be living at home, and he wrote the following perspective on bullying. It is about the most amazing thing I have read, and it came from a board on football. Aware is the new average. ---------- I AM NOT GOD I’ve been shocked by the news coming out of the NFL these past few days. I’m not a writer, but I feel that I must say something. I hope I say the words correctly. I suppose I should start with the rather obvious admission that I’m not God. I don’t get to decide what’s right or wrong. I don’t even always know what’s right or wrong. I certainly don’t know what happened between Jonathan Martin and Richie Incognito. I don’t know what the men around them saw, or think they saw. I don’t know what the right thing to do is in every situation. However, I do know that bullying is wrong. It’s Friday, November 8, 2013, and for the past few days I’ve been disappointed again and again as many analysts, players and reporters seem to miss the boat on this incident. No one is denying that Richie Incognito is being accused of bullying Jonathan Martin. No one is denying that his voicemail transcripts contain ideas which should never be uttered, even in jest. Yet, I hear over and over, that there’s more than one side to this story. I’ve been a victim of bullying. I remember it clearly, and it helped determine the man I am today. I was not bullied for good reasons. I was not targeted because I deserved it. My weakness did not warrant my torment. I was bullied, period. Does it really matter how it happened? I remember those days well. I remember being a good student. I remember being a friendly person. I remember being kind. I also remember scrambling over the back fence of my school every day before it let out so I could get a head-start on my bullies. I remember running steadily for the first few blocks, always making sure to duck around the corner as the school bell rang in the distance. I remember I took to walking furtively along back roads – which should have been more dangerous because there was no one around to help – because I learned first-hand that passersby would not necessarily intervene if I were under attack. I wagered it was safer to remain unseen. I remember carrying a lock in my backpack - even though I had no locker – to use if a bully ever managed to catch up. I know, and I suppose I always knew, that lock was not going to do anyone any good. It probably wasn’t going to protect me. I shudder to think of the impact if it were actually effective. I wouldn’t want to have been the cause of someone’s severe injury. Still, I carried the lock because I thought of it as a symbol that I was trying, that I was brave, that I was not too scared to fight. I wanted something to make me feel better. Those days set me on a path of adaptation. I became a better man as I trotted along, my backpack shifting up and down uncomfortably as I went. I became a better man as I learned to acknowledge that I was afraid of the people that might catch me if I slowed down. I was afraid of fighting; I hated conflict, and that was okay. I became a better man when I looked for landmarks like a friend’s house, or a store, or a hiding place, and finally became honest enough to admit their importance to me. I was scared, and these things made me feel safe. Safety is precious. I finally acknowledged that and I started to take pride in my frantic, humbling journey. It was better than the lock in my backpack. It was better than my illusions of control. It seemed that the best course for me was escape and I feel fortunate that such an opportunity existed. This is why I’m shocked when I read or watch the news today. Some people are suggesting that Jonathan Martin responded inappropriately to his bullying. Some are even going so far as to suggest that victims of bullying are sometimes responsible for their treatment. We have children watching the news. Do we really want them to think that it’s their fault that someone is bullying them? I understand that we may often disagree with a victim’s course of action, but their identity as a victim should preclude most criticism. Either Jonathan Martin wasn’t bullied, or he was, but if he was, he can’t be responsible for it. “Bullying,” by the way, just seems like an unnecessarily indirect term for chronic assault. I don’t care if it’s verbal or physical, bullying is serious. I have no desire to critique a victim’s actions. It’s difficult to respond to irrational actions. Furthermore, there is no surefire way to avoid bullying in the first place. Tell me, how does one avoid assault? I remember a time when a young man at my school randomly took to threatening me and a female friend. I didn’t know how to respond. It was an awkward situation because it made no sense. He was not provoked. It happened so fast that it took me a while to realize what he wanted. With bullies it’s almost always the same thing. They want you to bow. One way or another, that’s what they want. The young man had picked the perfect time to confront me. I was alone except for my friend whose safety I was responsible for. I had no choice. I hesitated, but I had to swallow my pride and play his stupid game. My friend and I were able to move on without injury, but I was furious because I was humiliated. You’re always embarrassed after bullying, but this was different. I wasn’t scared of this man, but I had to respect his power to hurt me and my companion. I had to acknowledge that he might be capable of dictating some of my circumstance. It wasn’t about bravery or courage or intensity. It was about making the right choice, and if it sounds unglamorous as I write about it, just think how it felt to live it. “Bullies” stripped my choices away. They tried to dominate me. I’m lucky because I wasn’t half-bad at making peace with people. I wasn’t half-bad at finding a way out. But it was hard. It hurt to have to know that I looked pathetic in those moments. I committed the cardinal sin as a man: I swallowed my pride. I wouldn’t recommend that choice for everyone. There should be limits, but they’re subjective. I was willing to look like an idiot if it meant my friend got home safe. It makes me angry to this day, but I refuse to act as if pride is our highest privilege. We bury people because men got proud. We bury people because men worshipped bravado. I’m not afraid to act. I would fight a wild dog if it attacked me or a loved one, but I’m not going to glorify violence by acting as if it is ever our ally. Violence destroys us. I know rage. I get it. Still, fighting is rarely the answer. We live in a day when men have walked into our schools and opened fire. Naturally, we mourn and cannot be comforted regarding these actions. Yet, even as we mourn, we upbraid the bullied for getting pushed around and instruct them to fight back. We tell them to impose their will. Who decides how they interpret our instruction? Would we create more monsters to haunt us? I’m going to vomit if I hear another “witness” eager to portray mass murderers as altogether ostracized even before their crimes: “He was a loser. He was a loner. Nobody liked him…” I shudder, because suddenly these crimes sound like extensions of the very retaliation we recommend. They sound like men pushing back. Are we filled with unending tears because a victim recklessly lashed out? Who decides the terms of restitution? Physical assertion is an absolutely untenable ideal for our society. It’s foolish to send tortured souls down violent paths that we know can end tragically. We all know conflicts can escalate. Violence should not be trifled with because violence cannot be tamed or confined. The truth is we shouldn’t want a world where men always fight back. Pressure can make it very hard to know or do the right thing. In a day where I have to be cognizant of my surroundings just walking down the street and where people everywhere are bullied and made to feel afraid, I can’t help celebrating when people turn the other cheek. If Jonathan Martin was a victim and a pacifist, he should be honored and not questioned or condemned. I’ve been bullied. I remember the times when I tried to seem un-intimidated. I remember the ostensibly pathetic attempts I made to “restore what I didn’t steal” by trying to befriend my bullies. Finally, I remember my frantic escapes. I never had the “privilege” of doling out as much punishment as I got, but I prefer it that way. As I said, I can’t help but celebrate when men somehow manage to move on, to turn the other cheek, to find a peaceful way to safety. This is because I see the alternative, and I shudder at the thought of a world where men feel obligated to take back what’s “theirs.” I shudder because, too often, men take back what’s not, and we have the graves to prove it. ^^^^ That is some amazing writing and expression.
Posted on: Sat, 09 Nov 2013 23:27:21 +0000
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