And I Have Been A Bystander

          As I have been, like so many others who follow the news, been hearing about the tragic stories of the alleged rapes of young boys and the refusal of people to intervene in the behalf of these alleged victims, I, like many others, have been sickened. And this has gotten me thinking about the "bystander effect" where many of of do not, whether because of fear, ignorance or plain indifference, do not intervene when involvement is called for. This applies to any situation where people are being abused, bullied, exploited, harmed or simply ignored and we are able to do something about it.
          This is an unpleasant post for me to write, as I do not like to dwell on my past failures in this regard. But as we cannot change the past, in realizing this, I can only hope and pray that I have learned about the effect of the "bystander effect" on me. And I hope that sharing my past failures in this regard will make this applicable to us all.
          My first example of my failure in this regard is when I attended an all-day camp. We worked on making various crafts, including homemade soap. At one point, some girls kept harrassing one of the girls who was sitting quietly and passively at the front table, pointing at her and saying things like, "It's your fault!" and "Stop it!" I didn't see that the girl herself was causing any trouble; it seemed that these girls just disliked this girl and wanted to trash her for some reason. The camp counselor at the table where this girl was, asked her, "And what about it? What do you have to to say about this?" She said nothing. The other girls, gloating, cried something like, "That's what you get!" I didn't know this girl's side of the story, but it seemed like she was being unfairly targeted. Responding to my well-meaning parents' training to "mind my own business" at all costs (and I do not fault them), I said nothing but felt guilty at my inaction.
          My second example is not just being a bystander but "trying to fit" in by going along with the my offending peers. Aged 13, I attended Cadette Girl Scouts. In the troop was another girl who shared some of my same challenges. As this was at the church-based school I attended for two years, I experienced my share of bullying from especially the girls. In this case it was one afternoon when some girls decided to engage in bad teasing and disability slurs toward this other girl. Wanting, I guess, to avoid being bullied by these girls and wanting to be "cool" and to "fit in," I participated in their bad teasing, even though I actually liked the other girl. I composed a poem which derided this girl and though I threw it in the trash and don't recall that she saw it, I still cringe today at my one memory of being a part of bullying and part of the problem.
          Another example was in my early adulthood, in a large singles group. The man in question was not actually ever bullied but was merely ignored (in some ways worse than being bullied). He was nonverbal and never spoke a word. I felt sorry for this man as, after all, I identified with him. Yet I didn't speak to him, either. In this case, I think it was because we didn't know how to approach this man nor could we predict how he would react, but also our motive may have been that we took it for granted that someone else would do it--reach out to this man. Sadly, this did not happen.
           One more example was when I was, again, a young adult and was walking around the lake of our local park. I loved this activity and did much walking outdoors during my earlier adult years, before the awareness of the presence of predators and kidnappers. On this one afternoon, I was striding along on the walking trail when two young children approached the lake, unattended. Where were their parents? I didn't see them. When I didn't see the parents, I merely kept an eye on these children and was relieved when an adult collected them. I don't really remember this incident, but once I told mom; no doubt recalling how she had raised me to "mind my own business" at all costs, she told me, "You should have gone to the community center and called 911."
          This "bystander effect" does obvious damage to those on whose behalf we fail to act, from increasing their victimization to making them feel that they are not worth anyone's involvement to even worse, risking their safety. But it also damages us in that every time we fail to act, it gets easier and easier to succumb to the "bystander effect" the next time. In my case, I hope and pray that I have learned my lesson and that I'm redeeming these instances of my succumbing to the "bystander effect" by reaching out to those in the community when others often will not. I don't want in any way to resemble those people in the recent news who had allegedly witnessed child molestation and failed to seek the help of authorities.
           Abuse and bullying are everyone's business.
         

This Week (Nov.14-18) is Anti-Bullying Week

          In honor of the focus of this week being on bullying awareness, this is my current topic. I think that most of us agree that bullying should be prevented and ended. Yet it has, sadly, been high-profile cases of young people who have ended their lives because of cyberbullying (Megen Meier and Phoebe Prince) and extreme bullying violence (Michael Brewer and Josie Ratley), which has brought awareness to this issue. Sadly, I doubt it if computers had not come of age and bullying had not gone high-tech and entered cyberspace, we would be taking it seriously or be talking about it, much less be covering it in the media or proposing legislation to address it. This makes me wonder, why does it so often take tragedies to propel us to outrage, advocacy and action?
           This is my bullying experience: As a child and teen, I was a magnet for bullies because of my differences; I walked, acted and thought differently. Yet, at that time, there were no proper scientific discoveries or autism spectrum diagnostic screenings; the concept of autism spectrum disorders did not exist then; my differences of behavior were assumed to be purely that--behavioral. Thus, adults often got angry and frustrated and they would react to me by verbally abusing me with hurtul remarks such as: "You just don't want to learn," "You do it on purpose," "You are spoiled," and "You are lazy" and "You will not make it in life."  Adults would tell mom things like, "You have the worst-behaved child I ever saw," "What an animal you have raised," "You need to get control of your problem child," and "She needs a good whipping." These remarks would be spoken in my presence or float back to me, and I heard these things so often that I convinced myself that they were true and always would be.
          My peers? Many of them took note of my differences and saw a great target. Yes, I know that when I was growing up, cyberbullying was not yet an issue, as it widespread computer use didn't yet exist. For this I'm certainly grateful, as many of us should be. Yet, the lack of awareness and adult intervention and the silent message that the victim was to blame, brought stress and trauma of their own plus lifelong emotional scars. This has been the case with me and I know it has been also for many others of my generation. In my case, I got the message that I was not only fundamentally bad because of my widespread bullying, but that I wasn't worth adult intervention and involvement. My peers, especially during my middle-school years, bullied me mentally, emotionally, and physically. They called me "Retard," Ugly," "Four-eyes," "Crippled," "Stupid," "Slow," and other labels not fit to be printed. In the 9th grade, I spent the school year suffering bullying on a daily basis. My parents, at one point, brought two of my bullies to the attention of a local law enforcement officer. They were told that, because of these girls' bad home life, he would not hold them accountable or do anything, as he felt sorry for them. Message? I was not worth adult investment. It was my fault. Bullies had all the rights, especially when they had problems of their own.
          The following year, I found myself back in special classes (which I attended often during my childhood), where I remained for the rest of my school years. There, we were taught a watered-down curriculum, and the focus was on reforming our behaviors. I was withdrawn, while most of my peers were aggressive. Message? It was all my fault! My former school, rather than holding my bullies accountable and securing help for them to deal with their anger and other issues, got rid of me, their victim. Therefore, I grew up feeling deprived of much of my childhood or an education. I entered adulthood with feelings of fear, anxiety, shame, low self-worth, petty jealousies, many trust issues and hypersensitivity to any hint of rejection. To some degree, this emotional baggage follows me to this very hour; when I experience depression, relational conflict or encounter drama, this emotional baggage resurfaces.
          And so I can testify from my own experience that bullying, any form of bullying, if sustained and frequent, leaves lifelong emotional scars. Now, I'm aware that teasing and bullying are often described in the same sentence. I know that there is good teasing, done by children or people of any age, that is done because we like each other and feel comfortable with each other. I know there is bad teasing that is done because differences are not tolerated. Good teasing is not bullying. No, I'm talking about any form of behavior that is done out of hate, jealousy or because differences are not tolerated; this IS bullying.
          Cyberbullying? At the risk of being politically incorrect, I see a simple (if not easy) way to prevent and end much cyberbullying: Stay off social networking sites where bullying occurs. Keep children off these networks as long as possible! Of course, I know that many people must use computers for their schoolwork or their jobs or for business reasons. I'm talking about recreational social networking.
          I'm thankful for the awareness, advocacy, and efforts to prevent and end bullying, all forms of bullying. For the sake today's youth and future generations, I can only hope and pray that we will make this happen. And we can do many things to prevent and end bullying. Perform acts of kindness. Be good parents to our children. Teach them to be kind to others. Reach out to bullies and help them deal with their anger and other issues. Embrace and celebrate differences. Speak out against bullying when we see it. You can probably add many other ideas.
          Practice and teach respect for ALL life and for ALL people; this would address what I see as the root cause of bullying.
         
    
http://www.stopbullying.gov/ This is a government-sponsored website full of resources, support and information for how to prevent and end all forms of bullying.

http://bullyinglte.wordpress.com/  This is an anti-bullying blog and forum where readers can submit bullying stories and read about others' experiences.

https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/In-Loving-Memory-Of-Bullycide-Victims-Everywhere-RIP/168893976491110/ This is a Facebook page set up to show how bullying can kill through keeping alive the memories of those who have taken their lives because of the bullying they had endured, and to give a forum to victims/survivors.  

On Surface Relationships vs. Caring Relationships

          This is a sample of a typical conversation, wther in schools, in the workplace, in places of worship and even (dare I say it?) in some families, indeed, in any setting:
         "Hi," you say to the other person you are encountering, "How are you doing?"
         "Oh, I'm just fine, can't complain," the other person says. "And you?"
         "Oh," you say, "I'm doing just fine also, can't complain here, either."
        
         Typical conversation? I wonder how many times we all say, "Oh, I'm doing just fine," or hear the same thing from others, when this is very far from the truth. Right? I wonder what would happen if, when we are asked how we are doing, we would be more open and more candid. Would we dare say, "How am I doing? I'm petrified because I have just been diagnosed with cancer or heart disease (or some other serious condition). I'm fearful about losing my job. I have lost my job. I'm petrified of losing my home. My home is going into foreclosure. I"m a victim of abuse or crime. I'm having lots of pain. I have lost a loved one. I need your help." You get the point.
         And when we ask a typical person during the day, "How are you doing?" do we really want to know how that person is actually doing? I think this is what strikes us about Jesus in the Gospels. According to an account, when He was exhausted and saw that huge crowds of people wanted to see Him, it is recorded, "and he had pity on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he taught them many things that they needed to know." (Mark 6:34 TLB).
          Don't get me wrong. I know that it is not wise or appropriate to reveal our personal emotions or problems with every person we encounter in a day. It is not even realistic. We would get nothing done if we entered into a messy conversations with everyone we encounter in a day. There are many relationships where we are wise to keep our exchanges confined to light exchanges and to social small talk. There are many people with whom we can never be friends. My problem with all this superficiality is that we often maintain superficial relationships where we can and should go deeper.
         Take relationships in our places of worship, where, because of the nature of our relationships, potential exists for much caring. Yet in so many of our places of worship, particularly in more affluent and larger ones, our exchanges tend to be marked by light exchanges and social small talk rather than than by trust, openness, and authentic caring and sharing. This is very unfortunate. Why is this?
  In my opinion, so much of this is because in our free world, our places of worship are seen as "museums for the worthy and the respectable and the beautiful people" rather than as "hospitals for those who are sick with moral maladies, emotional baggage or who have been pummeled by life." Right?
         In my own experience, I recall that as a child, my grandmother took me to worship services (later, I was simply dropped off). Always, my siblings and I would be forced to submit to my grandmother's inspection of how we were dressed. Now don't get me wrong. Bless my late grandmother's heart, she loved God and her church but she focused too much on keeping up with appearances. As a child, when I entered my place of worship, I had to "look perfect" and "act perfect." There was less emphasis on attendance out of our deep sense of our need for God in this world and our love for Him and His people. And later, when I entered adulthood full of emotional baggage from a troubled childhood and youth, when I interacted with people in my places of worship, I felt the burden to "pass as one of them" and to avoid stigmatizing myself by revealing my past or my present challenges. And I wonder how many others were doing these exact same things and still do, in so many places of worship. Especially larger, more affluent ones.
         Even in families, we tend the skirt the real, pressing, festering issues that plague so many of us. So many of us have topics that are simply "off-limits" and which we know we had better keep secret or else we will suffer repercussions. This causes a sick atmosphere where secrets, suspicions and lies pile up--often for decades and even being passed from one generation to another.
         In person and online, I have noticed that, over and over again, caring relationships and authentic sharing take place when people suffer losses and tragedies. I wonder if this is one answer to the age-old question, "Why does God allow us to suffer?" Could one reason be that sorrow, loss and tragedy draw us to each other to care for each other?
         Isn't this just about what we call "keeping it real"?