We often hear stories from those who have been victims of bullying. But what about the other side of the coin? A mother shares her experience.
Milly came home crying. A girl at school had told her she was ugly and disgusting. Her mother, shocked and angry, could not understand how a child could talk to another girl like that. But amidst the anger, there was also a moment of reflection about the girl who had bullied Milly. Because she herself had once been a bully.
She was not an expert in child psychology, had no degree in the field, and did not run an organization that protected children from bullying. But she knew something: how bullies thought and felt. What drove them to behave the way they did. And at a time when suicide rates among young people were rising, when more and more children were reporting being bullied at school and online, when endless laws and programs seemed powerless to stop this phenomenon, an important question arose:
Was it time to change the approach? Was it necessary to better understand the bully, instead of focusing solely on punishing him?
When she was Milly's age, she herself had been sent to summer camp during school holidays. Her parents had no shortage of time to care for her, but they weren't the closest family possible either. In her home, children often felt like a burden. Her mother hadn't wanted to give up her career to have children. Her parents had a life full of socializing and parties, but not many moments dedicated to building family memories. When she was just one year old, her parents had left her with her grandmother for six weeks while they went on holiday. It was her grandmother, not her parents, who had seen her take her first steps.
Being sent to camp had become the norm, even though she and her brother just wanted to feel that their parents cared about them. On the first day of camp, all the children were divided into different classes. She didn’t know anyone except her brother, who was in a different group. In her class, among the children was a girl in a wheelchair. She had never seen anyone in a wheelchair before. As the teacher was explaining a simple game to the children, a strange and embarrassing feeling came over her.
In a low but sharp voice, he said to the girl in the carriage:
"You can't do any of this. You can't even stand up. What are you doing here?"
Even now, the memory of that scene disgusts him. He couldn't imagine how that girl, who had probably been faced with such words her entire life, must have felt. But today, reflecting, he comes to understand why she had done that. It wasn't hatred. It was a primitive way for a child to cope with her pain and confusion. It was an unconscious reaction to "release" her negative feelings by hurting someone else, someone who seemed weaker.
The teacher heard her and punished her immediately. She sent her to sit alone, outside the classroom. But this punishment didn't change anything. It made her feel even more ashamed, angry, and confused. The feeling of exclusion only fueled her aggressive behavior, which continued for years. This was not an excuse. There was no excuse for her behavior. But there was a reason. And maybe, if someone had asked her then why she had behaved the way she did, if someone had tried to understand what had driven her to bully, things might have been different.
Today, parents complain that no one listens to them. Teachers look the other way. The police say there's nothing they can do. And innocent children are losing their lives every day. Until now, all the focus (and rightly so) has been on the victims - how to protect themselves, how to become stronger, how to cope with the pain. But what about the bullies? Isn't it time we went deeper and understood the roots of this phenomenon, instead of just trying to heal the wounds it leaves behind?
Perhaps the most important question we should ask bullies is not: “Why did you do that?”
But:
"Who, or what, hurt you?"
Source: Kidspot
