Bullying

"But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also."

Matthew 5:39

— `phfina commentary:

Okay, peeps, you, my dear friends, are getting this verse all wrong. It's your parents' fault for telling you, 'oh, show them that you're better than them,' and it's your fault for cringing down into yourself and saying, 'I can be strong, I can take this,' when you know goddamn well you're a sissy-ninny playing right into their hands, but you want to do what's right, and you want to come home, shattered and broken inside, but you want to tell mommy and daddy you did right for being the coward that you are.

That is what you are. And you know it.

If you look at American high school (and, watching Låt den rätte komma in, then it's more pervasive than just American high schools) through an anthropological lens, it's all about one thing: self-destruction. That self-destruction is manifested in two forms: tyranny and disengagement. Kids in school are either out to hurt somebody they can prey on, or they are banding together in cliques, or, like me, just checking out, so they can avoid being hurt, so they can be safe with their besties or safe in the library in a corner behind a book and avoid it all.

Like I said, self-destruction.

So, the bullies come around and find their little Oskar, their little `phfina, and pick on him or her until, yup, there's another suicide, call in the counselors and let's assemble in the gym for an hour long crisis management session so we can go right back to doing what we were doing.

And little `phfina or little Oskar goes up the the pearly gates, and instead of St. Peter, there's the big J-man himself there, and He doesn't look happy:

"You stupid idiot! I'm sick and tired of you lame-ass turn-the-other-cheek wimps! Go to Hell!"

And little `phfina or little Oskar go straight to hell, scratching their little heads, mumbling in confusion: "But, I didn't do anything!"

That's right: you're going to hell, and you didn't do anything.

... Actually: you're going to hell because you didn't do anything.

Okay, let's take the complete opposite of what Mr. J-man-G said and ask Elie her thoughts:

=-=-=-=

"Oskar, when they hit you, hit them back. Hit them back ... hard."

Oskar: "But there are many of them!"

Elie: "Then you have to hit them back harder."

=-=-=-=

The problem today, in this 'modern and enlightened' day and age is the bullies are now wise to the old turn-the-other-cheek grin-and-bear-it philosophy. They know it, and they target people, you, specifically for that reason.

"They are going to turn the other cheek! That means I get free second hits, and as often as I see that dumb fvck! BONUS!"

They hit you. You don't hit back. Now you two (or three or four or five ... bullies travel in packs: their own self-sustaining support groups!) are bound together in this sweet, little codependent relationship. They win: they get to bully you, and feel better than somebody, and then masturbate themselves into a frenzy of orgasms with the image of your downtrodden, servile demeanor. You win, too: you get to lick your wounds, and say, 'oh, woe is me!' and 'Everybody's so mean to me!' and be right and justified for being a wuss.

Win-win-win! (The third win is again anthropological: it becomes integral into this totalitarian society that we cover with labels, such as: 'school' and 'work' so the society feeds on it, growing this behavior so it's now ingrained).

What the bully is not expecting, is that when he says (or she says, girls can be so mean) something offensive or belittling (and usually both), or when he hits you or she tears your dress and slaps your face, or when he ...

... all that sh-t.

When they do that, they are so not expecting you to turn right back around and give it to them. Double.

And that's what you have to do. 'Have to' in that if you want to play their game, go ahead and take it, pissing yourself and end up crying in a heap in the bathroom, but my 'have to' is a constructive disengagement, which is this:

"If you wanna fvck with me, then you are going to get so fvcked up!"

It's called setting boundaries. A bully likes to erase your boundaries and extend his, or hers, all over your sh-t. Instead of allowing that, allowing the bully to grow bigger and allowing yourself to shrink, you redraw the line, but instead of drawing a tiny, little circle around yourself, you take that sharpie pen, and you draw the line across the floor between you and the bully.

Does it work? Instantly?

Sometimes, I guess.

But it works for me. It so works for me. And here's how.

I suffered through high school. I was that hangdog who literally had a sign on her back that said 'kick me, I'm gay.'

When I found somebody had put that piece of paper on my back, I lost it that day.

And I still went all the way through school doing what's right, because of ...

Because of everything, because I wanted to do what my parents told me, because I didn't want to get suspended, because I was a scared, little girl who didn't want to stand out and get noticed, so I hid in myself, and got picked on.

And I never had a witty comeback to all those zingers my classmates threw at me, so I was the dumb village-picked-on idiot, too.

Then something changed.

I don't know what. I don't know when.

But one day, on the job, I answered back.

You know how it is at work. They tease you 'all in good fun' and the rule is you're supposed to tease back 'all in good fun.'

So this time, I obeyed the rule. It wasn't witty, what I said, or perfect, or anything, ... skill comes through practice.

But it was something. And: shocker! I didn't die, and I didn't get fired, and they went on with their work and their teasing and life, and I went on with mine.

But I didn't go on with my life saying, 'woe is me! everybody hates me!' No, I went on with my life like: 'Hey, ... I did that!'

And they now knew: they can't just say anything to me now and have me take it, just like that. No, now, they say something to me, they get it right back, sometimes really `phfina-hard vindictively, sometimes with a wicked grin on my face and a soft little zinger, and all the guys scream, 'Whoa! Damn, bro'! You got served by little `phfina!'

And, guess what? Work, now, is a lot healthier place, for me, and for them. For me, because I respect myself, and I can hang with my coworkers and not feel like I'm a piece of furniture to be used, and for them, because now they know that they are dealing with a person, a person who demands respect for herself and so they now are more respectful of her and of themselves.

Real: win-win-win. (The third win is again anthropological: the society is now functional, instead of self-destructive)

Let's go back to the Bible verse, and see what it's really saying.

I addressed this in my first chapter of Sappho's Muse, by the way, but nobody reads, so 'that's okay.'

@_@

Jesus said, 'turn the other one,' because if somebody hit you on the cheek, it was, of course, with their right hand (the left was used to wipe). So they struck you with an open hand: a master, striking a slave, ... hitting you and asserting their dominion over you at the same time: conquering Romans hitting subjugated Jews.

But if you turn the other one, showing him your other cheek then that Roman would have to close his fist, and punch you.

A closed fist means only one thing: a man, fighting a man — equal, to equal.

When you turned the other cheek, it was not a sign of submission. It was a sign of defiance, you fucking turn-the-other-cheek idiots! (I'm counting myself in this crowd here, girls, so hate me for telling you the truth that I lived).

When you turned the other cheek, it told your oppressor, 'You hit me again, you have to acknowledge me as your equal.'

It made the Romans insane with fury, because they couldn't do that. That would redraw the map.

So that means they couldn't hit you anymore. So that means every time they saw you after that, they knew 'Oh, that was the guy I tried to oppress, but he wouldn't let me, so I can't pick on him anymore.'

Sweetheart, listen to me. You let a bully walk all over you, not only does that give him permission to find you again, every time he can (and girls are so good at this, too), but it also emboldens him to find the next doormat that used to be a person and walk all over them, because you enabled that behavior in him.

Every person that bully hurts after you? Your fault.

So, okay.

So, you strike back. Hard.

Happily ever after?

Sometimes, maybe.

Sometimes, the bully turns around, and hits you three more times, hard, and then calls you an a-hole, laughing at winded you as you lie on the floor trying to suck breath back into your lungs.

Sometimes, he goes away, and comes back a few days later, ... with some of his friends.

That happened to Oskar, after all.

But no matter what happens. YOU took a stand for something, and not just for 'something,' but for the most important thing in the world: you. You stood up for yourself.

And he now knows that. And he now has to think twice before picking on you, because he now knows it's going to hurt him. No more free lunch money from you.

And more importantly: you now know that. And nobody can take that away from you, ever again.