Mean people suck! Bullies exist in all shapes and sizes. Some are adults and some are children. Don’t be a bully and don’t let anyone bully you. Read the true story below by Teresa McIntosh-Hall which shows us that meanness often means we are hurting inside.
“I am the daughter of a Green Beret and my daddy will break your scrawny little neck!” This was my battle cry when I was 10 years old and standing in the ditch getting ready to fight Billy Logan. I smiled my crooked tooth smile and said; “You’re straight up white trash Billy.” Not realizing in 1978 that I was just as white and just as trashy. No punches were ever thrown between us, but every summer Billy and I faced off over various issues with him accusing me of faking my hearing loss and me accusing him of peeing on my porch.
My mother would see Billy and I squaring up in the ditch, which divided our property from the neighbor’s property, leading her to run outside and shout “Get in the house right now young lady!” “Girls do not fight!” Afterwards she would sit me down and try to convince me that Billy had “family problems” and I needed to show empathy towards him instead of aggression.
“Try to remember his meanness means he is hurting inside.” This was the feedback that my mother drilled into my psyche over and over every summer in attempts to get me to back down from Billy Logan. “Hurting inside?” Nonsense! The only thing hurting was Billy’s head after I kicked it in my dreams.
Looking back, I am not quite sure why Billy and I disliked each other so much. We were just two kids growing up in the same suburban neighborhood who liked to throw verbal punches at each other. You could say I learned to argue in a ditch. You could also say that I learned to develop empathy there as well.
It was the dog days of summer and only a few more days until we would return to school. The road had just been paved with a fresh mixture of gravel and asphalt which somehow led to me wrecking my bike at the intersection of Guilford and Merrill. As fate would have it, Billy witnessed my wipe out and mocked me from a short distance away. I shouted at him “you’re as smelly as shit on a shoe.”
“You can’t smell me from that far away Helen! Can you even hear me?” Helen was Billy’s nickname for me in honor of Helen Keller. It was his not so clever way poking fun of my hearing loss.
Kids are exceptionally good at finding emotional weak points within each other and Billy knew that my hearing loss was my Achilles heel. In case you are not familiar with the story, Achilles is a warrior from Greek mythology. He was extremely strong and brave. As an infant his mother dipped him into a magical river (holding him by his heel). He became invulnerable on every part of his body, except the area of his heel where his mother held him. He was killed by an arrow to the heel which is how “Achilles heel” has come to be known as “an area of weakness.”
Billy knew my Achilles heel was my disability. I knew Billy’s Achilles heel was his dysfunctional and abusive family. So at the intersection of Guilford and Merrill, with my bike in the ditch and my knees scrapped up – Billy sensed my vulnerability. He moved closer and closer towards me as we took turns shooting verbal arrows at each other’s “Achilles heel.”
“Helen your ears are as banged up as your bike!” Said Billy.
“Your mom is stupid and your daddy is a drunk!” I shouted back. I felt embarrassed at how sharp and cruel my arrows were as they cut into his heel. In a flash of regret, my mother’s words washed over my spirit…
”His meanness means he is hurting inside.”
Billy was mean. No doubt about it. But I was just as mean and just as cruel. In a moment of self-awareness I changed the “his” to a “her”…..
“Her meanness means she is hurting inside”
and for whatever reason, standing in the ditch all scrapped and banged up, I saw myself in Billy Logan. I felt a wave of sadness and empathy pour over me. I broke down and started to cry. I was tired of fighting Billy and I even understood where Billy’s rage was coming from. I had the same rage but for different reasons. I felt genuinely remorseful that I shot so many hurtful arrows into him.
Billy saw my tears and he initially paused but then he reacted with skepticism. “Those tears are as fake as your hearing loss!” he said. Billy was much closer to me at this point. He could see my freckles and taste my tears. I could see old bruises and a hand print on his neck.
I picked my bike up, pulled myself out of the ditch and rode away.
Her meanness means she is hurting inside.
@copyright By Teresa McIntosh-Hall
Teresa McIntosh-Hall is a writer, blogger, social worker and political activist who extends her sincere apology to Billy Logan wherever he is.
Resources to Teach Empathy and Combat Bullying Among Children:
Wow. Memories of being teased for MY disability….a kidney disease which made me blow up like a balloon. Unlike you, I hid and cried. Guess we really were all hurting in different ways.
You always were a scrappy little thing.
And you too Annie! Thank you.