I have been reading articles online from different people revealing their stories of bullying and have been inspired to tell mine.
When I went to school I became aware that there was something different about me. I wasn't like the other boys. I was, in fact, more like the girls. I enjoyed playing with the girls in their games of dressing up and playing house. I enjoyed their games. Kicking a football and riding a bike was okay for a short time, but I always wanted to do something with more imagination and more creativity. Consequently, I was bullied. Bullied by other kids, bullied by teachers, bullied by adults in my life.
Children can be immensely cruel when they perceive something different in others, so can their parents (which is probably where the children get it from). I was often taunted, something that no matter how much I heard, I never got used to the sting of those words. I was called names, shunned, laughed at. I had clothing ripped and stolen. I was written on in biro. I was kicked. I was punched. I had other kids spit in my face. I was often forced from my seat on the school bus and made to stand. In some classes, I dreaded the teacher leaving the room even for a few minutes. Lunchtimes were often terrible, especially as I grew older, and I would hide in empty classrooms and hope the dinnerladies would take pity on me and let me stay. My circle of friends became smaller the older I became - the girls who were once my friends started to go out with boys and making fun of the 'puff' helped to increase their social standing in the groups they were forming.
From a very young age, teachers discouraged my play activities with the girls and insisted I join in with what the boys were doing. This meant that I ended up on the sidelines an awful lot - a silent observer in a world that was alien to my nature. As I grew up, there were jibes from the teachers about my voice and my mannerisms. Despite being reasonably good at things like woodwork and metalwork, the male only environment was uncomfortable for me. Of course, in those days, boys didn't do cookery. P.E. was a living nightmare and I became adept at forging my father's handwriting so I could fake notes excusing me from taking part. I am not sure if there is a written rule somewhere that P.E. teachers (male and female) have to be small minded bigots who devise torture for children so they can have a smoke and a coffee in peace. Looking back now I wonder why anyone would take advice on exercise and fitness from someone who had an arse the size of two of the pupils they were instructing.
The adults around in my life were also discouraging or bullying. I was constantly told I couldn't or wouldn't be able to do things - something that in later life made me determined that I could do everything I wanted to do and resulted in a breakdown in my late twenties after years of attempted over-achieving. I was rarely invited to anyone's house as a kid - the disapproving looks from parents serving to further deflate my confidence and self-esteem.
I survived. I left school and college. I found a job. The job was so easy that I could have done it in my sleep and, on occasion, I probably did. There was no physical abuse any longer, but the verbal abuse was still there. It was in a diluted form and mostly consisted of jokes or snide comments rather than overt attacks. I was obviously seen as being an easy target though as there were a couple of managers who made my life miserable whenever they could.
The strangest situation I found myself in was having to 'come out' as gay. I had never really thought of myself as being 'in'. My mannerisms and voice - and my resurrected penchant for dressing up - hardly made me stand out as straight. I know that some straight men are camp, but I am beyond that. I was forced in to a situation where I had to come out. I was told it was for my own good. It is quite bizarre when you lose friends because you publicly acknowledge your sexuality even though it was hardly a secret. Equally bizarre when some people want to be your friend for the same reason. I remember being at a party and being manoeuvred around by a woman so we were facing her friends. She then chatted to me while occasionally giving her friends a knowing 'look at me I am talking to the homosexual' smile and wink. Of course all the usual stuff happens after you come out. I wasn't prepared for some of the unusual though, like having a married male colleague suddenly decide I would be open to the idea of an affair..."I am gay...that doesn't mean I don't have standards". The worst comment made to me came from an alleged friend who delivered with a smile the phrase, "I have obviously heard that you are gay...and just want you to know that I hope you burn in hell". That isn't the way a phrase starting like that usually ends and I was massively taken aback.
I changed jobs and went to work in education. Being in a college was like having to live through my teenage years all over again. Teenagers can be horrible. Thankfully I only had to teach students who were 19+. Some of them are hard work too. I found a few of the younger ones were all giggly when I tried to talk to them. I found a few of the older ones looked at me with disdain as the only gay men they had ever come across were their hairdressers. And yes, I have been asked that corking question, "My hairdresser is gay...do you know him?" My answer was, of course, "Yes, I have met him at the monthly meetings our people have". I discovered that great places for homophobia are in IT support and Personnel. A woman from IT support almost fell out of a window trying to get a look at me, "Is that the gay from the art department?" "Actually no, I am the gay from the craft department. The gay from the art department is thinner and younger". I found out from one of the most indiscrete members of staff that the man in charge of payroll in the PersonHell department had taken great delight in commenting to people about my appearance and voice.
My favourite part of working in education was working for the IT department. They found some lovely jobs for me...like teaching IT to men who had worked in factories and heavy industry from leaving school and had evidently never met anyone quite like me. It wasn't exactly a huge boost to my confidence when men transferred to other classes because they did not wish to be taught by me.
In my next job, everything was fine. Although the job did not end well, it was like working with grown ups for the first time. My individuality found a place and my creativity was encouraged. I only had one suspect moment when the son of one of the director's noticed the posture cushion on my chair and asked, "Who are you saving your arse for?"
Now I work as a volunteer in a shop raising money for charity. I have discovered a new form of bullying - the tyranny of old ladies who feel threatened. "Charity shops are work for old women" was one pearl of wisdom I was offered. My voice has been made fun of regularly by one of the customers. I have been told that cutting my hair so short makes me look old. I am used to being organised and efficient. This does not go down well. There are a couple of us who are seen as interlopers. "I have been here for 12 years", "Yeah, well you haven't sold yet" was an exchange I had with one woman as I was told for the umpteenth time how long she had been there. All of the women seem to hate each other and bitch constantly about everyone else, but if you try to change anything, they all band together. A couple of them are insidious in their destruction of everything the newer members of staff try to achieve. They have no concept of retail and endlessly spout "It's just a charity shop" when challenged.
Bullying seems to be never-ending. Over the years I have had a tough time, but I have grown stronger through it. At times I feel like giving up. Giving up means the bullies win and I am far too stubborn to allow anyone to beat me!
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