By the time this column “hits the stands” this country will have a new president-elect. And I will have had a (small) hand in the outcome, despite my threats to sit out this election in disgust. I could not face my own children if I did not exercise my civic duty, but even more importantly, I could not face my future grandchildren (especially my granddaughters) and confess that I had not been a part of history as we voted for our first woman candidate for president.
As of this writing, we actually do not know that will happen. And things could still swing the other way, as evidenced by historical precedent in the “Dewey Defeats Truman” headline—incorrect—screaming across the front page of the Chicago Daily Tribune on November 3, 1948.
In my last column, I articulated my concern that the nastiness of this race had exposed the ugly underbelly of our national character, that racism and sexism were resurgent across every layer of society, and that bad manners and bullying were sanctioned, especially if you were rich and powerful enough to get away with that kind of behavior.
I worried about the impact on our children, who not only have big eyes and big ears, but sponge-like qualities of absorption and osmosis—wonderful if the influences around them are positive, but damaging with negative role modeling on prominent display.
I shared the pain of the racism I experienced at all ages of my life, and in doing so, relived the anguish of the bullying Molly endured, particularly in 6th grade at Community Middle School at the hands of two former best friends who ganged up on her (one girl moved away; the other still lives in the community and they both know who they are) and also in 8th grade at Stuart Country Day School.
Middle school is a particularly difficult time for adolescent girls, especially if you don’t develop as quickly physically and emotionally as the ones with the sharpest claws do. To her credit, Molly emerged from those difficult years strong and compassionate. I am proud of her for her beauty and grace, and admire her capacity to forgive.
Is it the mean spirit that has taken over so much of this country this year? Or is it the perpetual struggle of the adolescent to be loved and accepted, and for some, to be outwardly superior to others, often because of a lack of confidence and inner strength? Or is there a convergence of these two forces that has given rise to an especially vile and cowardly form of bullying?
I am heartsick as I write this, as I know a young teenager who is being bullied at school this year. What’s especially egregious about this situation is that this child lost a parent just a few months ago, and the whole family has been living with this huge crater of loss gaping at them every hour and every minute of every day. How do you readjust the family dynamic with this kind of loss? How do you console a girl who has suffered the biggest kind of loss any child can experience, and then goes to school to get picked on by her peers? The lack of compassion here is appalling.
I told Will that he and his lacrosse teammates should form a circle of protection about this student somehow. Just this morning, as he went to school, I told him to make her feel important—using common sense and without being creepy, of course, because a senior boy paying attention to a middle-schooler could seem untoward without any reason or context.
Will knows that I expect him to stick up for anyone he observes being mistreated. There is a certain power in being a senior, much less a popular senior and captain of the lacrosse team. Will understands that with that power comes responsibility and that we fully expect him to be a model of good behavior, to influence others to be kind or at the very least, to stop being mean — not out of fear or threat of retribution, but because it just feels better to be a nice person.
I wish I could wave a magic wand over those who bully and command them to cut it out. I wish I could give them a taste of their own medicine so they could understand the pain they can cause. For those who are bullied I would let them know that their day will come, and they may emerge from their experience — like both Molly and I did — stronger and wiser and more compassionate. But I would also love to assure them that some day, their tormentors will get their comeuppance because their bullying comes from a place of weakness and that ultimately will bite them where it counts.
So how to circle that back to lessons we can appreciate today? Don’t badger, belittle, and bully. You never know if you’ll lose an election, in part, because you weren’t very nice. You also never know who’s going to grow up to be your boss, that technology mogul who changes the world, or even your president.
suburban mom,
