How does it feel to be regularly bullied?

My last year of elementary/junior school. At the time, I lived in fear of the
bullies, but now all of my classmates (most of whom were nice kids) just look
so small and young

Bullying can be a one-off, or it can continue over days, months or even years. Some kids have been so traumatized by a single incident that it destroyed them, whilst others have endured years of bullying with stoicism. I guess it’s different for each person, so I can only speak for me, but hearing from other people, I think that my feelings were not that dissimilar.

Serious bullying started for me around age nine or ten. I was bullied by individuals and a “gang”. The word “gang” makes it sound a lot more urban than it was. I lived in a suburban town called Basildon, and I went to really quaint redbrick school called Janet Duke (which I’ll be mentioning in a positive light in a later blog). But wherever you are, when a bunch of kids orchestrates harassment and violence in such a way that the various members scout for you throughout the school, it feels like a gang to a young child. Looking back, the word “pack” would perhaps be a better term.

There was a lot of racial taunting at first, which mostly took place in the playground or in class when the teacher was not close. It used to make me feel pretty queasy and isolated, but the worst thing is, I knew if I showed unhappiness, it would only get worse. So I’d be working at my desk, and these little taunts would be lobbed across at me, digging into my heart, and making me wish I wasn’t who I was. And the really funny thing was, one at least one occasion, one of the milder bullies came up to me and said, “I like you; you’re a good sport.” Which means that I didn’t whine when I was bullied. That’s one of the first lessons the victim learns about survival – don’t give the bullies more to use against you, and don’t show weakness. It’s also one of the reasons why kids won’t report to the teacher nowadays.

The name-calling progressed to physical violence, with one group of perhaps 4-6 boys harassing me frequently during break times and lunch break. It would range from name calling to shoving, to punching and tripping and kicking, to actual beatings. The funny thing is, to the best of my memory, it never occurred to me to seek help.

Each recess/break, I had a choice to make; I could try to play within earshot and sight of a teacher or dinner lady, or I could try to find a quiet corner to hide, like the back playground, or near the school pond, or close to the huts, where nobody went. If I chose a quiet place, of course I had to be on constant alert in case a member of this gang happened upon me. If they did, I had to get out and make a break for a supervised place as quickly as possible. I won't say that my school life at this time was a wholly miserable one, but I was certainly nervous and on edge the whole time, and having to stay away from all the other kids meant that it was hard to form friendships.

Bullying at school and outside went in fits and starts for me. It would intensify for a few months, then die away.

The problem with bullying is it doesn’t even stop once you’re home and safe. For me, there were times when I had to consider if it was even safe for me to go visit people’s houses or go swimming at the local pool. Did my route take me within a risk area?

Both at school and outside, I had to be constantly vigilant about who was within a 100 yard radius of me so that I could never be cornered. Fortunately, I was an excellent sprinter and long distance runner, so with 10 yards start, there wasn’t a person in my town who could catch me.

But even if I stayed at home, the misery wasn’t over. It just sits in your mind like a spectre, looming over everything. So when the bullying was at its worst, (which fortunately was not for more than a few months I think) I might watch some TV, or play a game, or read a book, and I’d be distracted, then the second the distraction was over, I’d remember what I had to look forwards to, and the stress would fill my stomach in a sickly lurch.

If I thought about before bed, it would be hard to sleep, and the first thought in my head, even before I opened my eyes, would be this stomach wrenching lurch of apprehension about what the day would bring.

And I know compared to some kids nowadays, I had it easy. At least it was only a small group at school, and random people away from school. I was sporty, friendly, pleasant-looking, and most students were fairly neutral towards me.

It carried on for a couple of years once I moved up to senior school (junior high), although I think it became milder, and the taunts broadened to include sexual slurs, which I think is simply part of male teenage life. I certainly don’t remember needing the elaborate defensive strategies in senior school that I needed in junior school. It helped that the bullies separated and went to different schools at that time, and that I grew to well over six foot tall for by the age of 13!

Also, I was pushed so far that I finally snapped, and with nothing left to lose in my mind, I stood up to, and beat, a number of the bullies in one-on-one confrontations. It wasn’t heroic; it was desperate, and I was probably the lamest fighter ever, but there’s something very intimidating about the raw fury of someone fighting for their very survival, and the people I fought never participated against me again…

Anyone who knows me might be surprised to know that I’ve even been the victim of mild cyber-bullying. In fact, I think it’s a lot for common than people realise, even amongst adults.

I used to frequent various forums, and at one forum I liked, the forum admin kept orchestrating arguments against me. His lackeys would go on overnight, post abusive comments, then he would shut down the thread so that the comments remained but I couldn’t even defend myself verbally. I used to log on each morning, with a real sense of trepidation, not really wanting to, but unwilling to simply walk away from something important to me. My experience sounds very mild, and it is compared to what some poor kids go through. It irritates me that there are still insults against me on the internet out there now that I cannot get erased. My mom says, “Well why do people keep going back to get hurt?”, but when there’s a place where you love to go, to talk about things you like, you feel like you have a right to be there. And it’s even worse now with Facebook and the like. For many people that’s their primary social medium, and not returning is almost not even an option.

I know when I was in the middle of it, the bullying was the most important thing in my life, because it cast a cloud over everything. Now, looking back, I really wish that I had asked for help from my mom and the teachers, because if they knew how bad it was, I’d like to think that they could have helped me resolve it.

The gang at junior school was primarily lead by two tough guys, and I used to breathe such a sign of relief when the main one wasn't at school, because it meant a day off for me too, as the gang lost its purpose without him. Funny enough by about 14 or 15, both of these guys had really lost their power. They still had reputations as hard men, but the gangs they had lead, and the status they once had, had faded to nothing. By the time I left school, both had been very friendly too me, and I remember their last years at school as rather isolated and pathetic.

If I had a message for anyone reading this, it would be not to suffer in silence. Bullying is a far better understood thing now than it used to be, and tolerance for it is getting lower and lower. You don’t have to dread going to school. You don’t have to dread leaving your house. You don't have to dread going onlne. Your life can get back to normal again.