“I’m glad I’m skinny,” Love Monster, my daughter, said to
me. She stared at the mirror happily.
She’s six.
My stomach dropped. Where did she get that?? Certainly not
from me. Skinny was always an insulting word to me. And truthfully I wouldn’t
call her skinny. She’s tall, but she’s not small. Athletically built. But the
fact that she thinks she’s skinny and that that is a good thing to be worried
me. It didn’t take long for me to figure out who she got this from. We’ll just
call her GIRL X.
“I hope GIRL X likes my outfit today,” She said still
staring in the mirror, her happiness giving way to anxiety.
I bit my tongue. I needed to think
through what I was going to say. Saying “FUCK GIRL X!” was not appropriate or
right in any way.
GIRL X. The girl who made Love Monster think skinny is best
body to have. GIRL X, the girl who Love Monster wanted to please, is also the
girl who bullied her.
I didn’t think I’d have to worry about any of this for
years. But here we were in Kindergarten and the mean girl routine was starting
on the playground.
“I think GIRL X will like this dress.”
“I thought you wanted to wear your favorite dress?” I asked
her.
“No. GIRL X thinks it looks like pajamas.”
Again I was fuming, but calmed down. We needed to get to
school.
That day Love Monster had to bring in her 100 days of school
project. And who did we see in the hallway as we walked into the school? GIRL
X. Awesome. Love Monster ran up to her smiling in anticipation, poised for
certain praise, angling her bright pink poster board covered in exactly 100
Cherrios in the shape of a heart just right. “Hi! Do you like my project?”
I clutched LM’s shoulder wishing I could brace her for
impact.
GIRL X looked at it like it piece of shit smeared into the
ground, shrugged and walked away. Love Monster was crushed.
Mean girls. There’s no avoiding them. Maybe this type of Kindergarten
bullying seems like nothing. The making fun of how someone is dressed, exclusion,
the well used sentence “I won’t be your friend.” (If I hear a kid say that one more time.... ugh!)
But I’m telling you at that age, it’s devastating. They
don’t think it’s small. How others feel about you and how you feel about
yourself is so easily intertwined. It starts so early. What scares me is the
evolution of this bullying that is inevitable if we don’t stop it. Kindergartners
don’t have Facebook. They don’t text horrible things about each other to the
entire school. Yet. It’s the beginning. And it’s such a crucial time. They are
making friends and learning their identity outside their family. And then they
met the mean girl. And they want to be her. She is revered and feared. It seems
safer maybe. It’s like Heathers all over again.
I was bullied as a kid. Skinny. Glasses. A football helmet
perm. I was an easy target. I brushed it off as teasing, but it sucked and hurt
deeply. I also had awesome friends that made up for the enemies. And thank god
it wasn’t the internet/cell phone age.. The thought makes me shudder. In 1988,
yeah I might get teased at school, but when I got home, I was in the safety
zone. It’s not the safety zone for kids anymore with computers and cell phones.
Honestly because of those years it took a long time for me to get comfortable
with my body. Not until just last year I think. I’m 37 years old.
I don’t want that to be the case for my girls and I
certainly don’t want worse. The stories in the news are heartbreaking. The only
way out some of these kids see is death. It’s terrifying the power bullies seem
to have. So the fear I have is not irrational.
But then I had the most reassuring parent/teacher conference
the other week.
“Love Monster is a great self-advocate,” one of her teachers
said. “If someone is being mean, she tells them she doesn’t like it. And if
they apologize, she accepts, smiles and keeps on playing.”
She’s come a long way since last year and the GIRL X days of
Kindergarten. I never really hated GIRL X. I think we all know the ones
who hurt are probably hurting the most. I hope she’s not anymore.
I pray for Love Monster’s continued strength and confidence.
The night of the “Skinny Incident,” I addressed it with LM. There’s something
about bedtime, tucking them in, that is vulnerable. Love Monster put on her
smile, but there was something anxious underneath it.
“You know I’m so happy with how strong and healthy you are.
Aren’t you?”
“Yes!” Love Monster said.
“I’m strong too!” Smirker interjected showing us her
muscles.
“Yes you are! You know what matters most is how you feel
about what you did today. Were you proud of you project?”
“Yes,” she said tentatively, a “but” on the tip of her tongue.
“That is what matters. She’s not your friend babe. Friends
don’t make you feel that way.”
“But I should still be nice to her?”
“Yep. People are not always nice. And it probably has
nothing to do with you. Be compassionate. Think of that person as you. How
would you feel? Be kind.”
“That’s easy.”
I laughed. Not always easy.
But the concept sure is. I said quite a few cliché things. I didn’t know if it
would stick. But it must have. Because the next day she wore her favorite “PJ”
dress to school with
a huge smile on her face.
11/21/2013 UPDATE:
I feel strongly compelled to add something to this blog
post. Love Monster came home the other day from school with a scratch on her
face that was bleeding. It took two days of her dad and I asking about it for her to tell us what
happened. Finally she admitted a boy did it on purpose. She didn’t tell a teacher
about it because she was “being brave.” A little part of me broke inside. She
really thought that was the right thing to do. When people are bullied, they
become afraid to speak up.
Speak up.
Please speak up. Ask for help.
“Love Monster, there is NO shame in that. No shame in
telling someone.”
She nodded clutching Bees her favorite bear once again
tucked into her covers, cloaking her in the safe vulnerability of bedtime.
“Promise?” I asked.
“Promise.”
Oooh, I can't put my finger on why this post hits home for me so much but it does. It's strange because I was homeschooled, wasn't bullied, and I have boys not girls... but something about this... ugh.
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