Growing Up Bullied

Dealing with being the bullied kid in school.

It started back in the third grade. I don't remember the situation at all, yet all that I remember was the end result - many kids in my class took turns beating me up.  A small, thin, shy and sensitive boy, I remember walking over to my teacher in tears. I was humiliated, insulted and hurt. It began with one kid and then, like a domino effect, many other kids got into the act. I just felt as if everyone hated me. I didn't know what I did, and I had no idea why I was the one who was the victim. What was worse - this was just the beginning. It really didn't end until I graduated high school nearly ten years later.  Although I'm a native New Yorker and grew up in one of the lovely neighborhoods of Queens, New York, this neighborhood, Belle Harbor, was rather remote. So, it can be compared to growing up in a small, closely knit town, where the residents knew each other for not just years, yet for generations. Having said that, unless my family and I moved away, I was destined to be in school with these kids for the remainder of my education, whether I or they liked it or not.  Of course, it only got worse. I wasn't an athlete by any means. Being a good athlete requires not only talent and interest, yet a strong self esteem. My self esteem was already weakened by being the school pariah. As a result, I was labeled a "f****t" and a "queer". This was the 1970's. I was only a child. I had no idea what those terms meant and when I finally realized what they were, it only made me feel horrible about myself. I was the victim of name-calling, people whispering behind my back as well as getting smacked around a lot. As I got older and moved on to Junior High School, life didn't get much better. As a matter of fact, as I recall, this is where it got even worse.  Name calling continued, threats continued and being an outcast continued. I even remember my ninth grade homeroom teacher getting in on the act. I remember her actually blaming me for the abuse, and how I "asked for it". At 14, I didn't know how to stand up for myself, especially up to my own teacher. However I remember her saying this to me in the gym in front of kids who were poking fun at me.  The question remains - what could be done? What could've been done? Who do you run to besides your own parents? I remember being miserable and crying to my mother, who, bless her, really didn't know what to do. At parent/teacher meetings, I remember sitting there with my parents and teacher, yet only my school work was discussed, not my social life (if you want to call it that). As a child of the 70s and 80s, social lives of children in schools were not really considered like they should've been and like they are considered today.  Believe it or not, I found some solace when I discovered what I truly love �" choir. I remember as a youngster being drawn to a children’s choir that performed at my primary school when I was in the sixth grade.  They sung the theme from “Rocky”. I was awestruck. For some reason, my school didn’t have a choir, so I personally wasn’t exposed to one until I moved onto junior high school. There I found something that I really loved, and yes, I even found friends. Time moved on.  In spite of being victimized, I tolerated all of the BS and hoped against all hope that being tormented and out casted would end. In 1982, I entered the tenth grade in the local high school. It was a bigger place, not only accommodating the kids from where I lived, yet from other areas as well, as far as Brooklyn and Manhattan. Of course, my reputation followed me there as well and before I knew it, loneliness, insecurity, humiliation and all that comes with being bullied were my close allies.  Though I felt isolated, I must impress that I did have some friends. Not many, yet I did have friends whom I was in close touch with throughout High School as well as College. However, for the most part, I was indeed, isolated. The hope of a “happy ending” came in the beginning of the tenth grade. Being in my high school choir, I was informed by a friend of the New York All City High School chorus that was holding auditions that coming weekend. Initially, I hesitated. Since social situations and new opportunities where I’d be socially isolated all over again were very unappealing to me, I decided to give it a shot and audition anyway. Words cannot describe what happened with me that one chilly Saturday morning on Manhattan’s Upper East Side in October 1982. The warmth, love and excitement buzzing around me were just almost too much to bear. I learned when I was filling out my application form that many of the choristers there were from schools like The HS of Music & Art and The HS of Performing Arts, the schools that the movie “Fame” was based upon. Once I learned this minor fact, I thought to myself, “Theres no way I’m going to be accepted into this choir”.  Long story short, after my audition, I was sent to wait outside the classroom where the Tenors, Baritones and Basses were auditioning.  After several long minutes, my name was called and I was asked to take a seat inside.  Several boys were sent home, yet I was one of the lucky few who were welcomed into what was the “Toast of the Big Apple”, the New York All City HS Chorus led by Maestro John L. Motley.  Almost immediately guys were patting me on the back and shaking my hand, welcoming me into one of the best choirs in New York’s history, where alumni have graced the stages of Broadway, the Metropolitan Opera House, Carnegie Hall, and theatres and opera houses throughout the world. Fellow choristers were warming up to me right and left, just in one morning. I was singing and loving every minute of it. I had new, close friends from throughout New York City.  The kids who I grew up with in Belle Harbor, NY automatically became irrelevant. Nothing mattered there anymore. I could’ve stayed there for days. The energy was invigorating and I only wanted more. The sad part was the end of the day when we finished our rehearsal. Yet, I knew that I’d be back next week, come hell, and come high waters. The only way I dealt with bullying was finding what I loved about myself and what I love to do. I found people who love to do the same and in a very short time loved me for who I was and was very glad to call me their friend. It wasn’t only one or two people; it was tens of people, without any exaggeration. People who had promising futures and respected me as a person were now close friends of mine.  I kid you not, this happened in one chilly Saturday morning in October when I was fifteen years old. Although your parents, teachers, guidance counselors, clergy, should be involved with your situation if you’re a victim of bullying, you are probably the only one who can make that change. If you’re assaulted, the police have to be involved. Physical assault is a felony and opening a file against the one bullying you only can benefit you and give you some control of the situation. It’s a “catch 22” situation, because if the victim runs and “tattles”, it almost always makes matters worse. Yet, you need to end this before it gets to tragic circumstances.  Learning to defend yourself like taking up martial arts would be a great step in the right direction, as it can and will get physical. Only you can stop it. Life’s too short and too wonderful to allow the bully to win.