Anti-empathy people are at it again
May. 9th, 2009 11:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bofoddityI wish so much this post didn't hit home as much as it does.
The sordid story short, a young boy was repeatedly called gay in school and eventually committed a suicide. As expected, all the usual excuses are flying around again: you shouldn't be so sensitive, the bullies didn't mean it, it was supposed to be funny, endless et cetera. It's strength not to care.
It makes me so sick.
Compared to those who went through life-time bullying I was extremely lucky. I got to be the weird kid in reasonable peace until I was 12 and got away from the most hostile people when I went to highschool. That was fortunate, and that's why I'm ashamed of being affected as thoroughly as I was by that very short time. It gave me depression that comes and goes, but stays for long. It made me struggle with speaking, which in turn made me terrified of talking to people on the phone or in stores. (I've got better at this, but whenever possible I still pick an e-mail over phone or talking in person. Even if I could just walk over to this person.) It made me scared of going outside and drove me to develop bizarre eating habits. It made me socially awkward to the point that LJ - LJ! - was the first social space I was ever comfortable in again (which leads to my alienation fright sparking every time somebody says 'migration). I've never been bad enough to attempt suicide, but I've thought of it a lot.
I'm ashamed of it, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be; no victim of violence asks to be hurt. I didn't ask to be targeted or my schoolmates to turn their backs on me - schoolmates who I thought I was one of for a long time - and yet all I hear from the society at large that I shouldn't care so much. In the case of the boy who died it was that being called gay shouldn't hurt you; it's just a word. As if it's impossible to use language for horrible things. As if the intention of a person doesn't matter. I'm sure having dyke screamed to my face wasn't meant to help me to figure out my sexual identity. I'm sure this boy didn't die because his schoolmates were so accepting.
It makes me sick that it's always the victim who has to deal with the weight, who has to bend and forgive while those who make the choice to hurt or close their eyes aren't even required to acknowledge what they've done. You see, in the end it's not the victims who lack the strength. It's the people who find basic empathy too great to handle.
The sordid story short, a young boy was repeatedly called gay in school and eventually committed a suicide. As expected, all the usual excuses are flying around again: you shouldn't be so sensitive, the bullies didn't mean it, it was supposed to be funny, endless et cetera. It's strength not to care.
It makes me so sick.
Compared to those who went through life-time bullying I was extremely lucky. I got to be the weird kid in reasonable peace until I was 12 and got away from the most hostile people when I went to highschool. That was fortunate, and that's why I'm ashamed of being affected as thoroughly as I was by that very short time. It gave me depression that comes and goes, but stays for long. It made me struggle with speaking, which in turn made me terrified of talking to people on the phone or in stores. (I've got better at this, but whenever possible I still pick an e-mail over phone or talking in person. Even if I could just walk over to this person.) It made me scared of going outside and drove me to develop bizarre eating habits. It made me socially awkward to the point that LJ - LJ! - was the first social space I was ever comfortable in again (which leads to my alienation fright sparking every time somebody says 'migration). I've never been bad enough to attempt suicide, but I've thought of it a lot.
I'm ashamed of it, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be; no victim of violence asks to be hurt. I didn't ask to be targeted or my schoolmates to turn their backs on me - schoolmates who I thought I was one of for a long time - and yet all I hear from the society at large that I shouldn't care so much. In the case of the boy who died it was that being called gay shouldn't hurt you; it's just a word. As if it's impossible to use language for horrible things. As if the intention of a person doesn't matter. I'm sure having dyke screamed to my face wasn't meant to help me to figure out my sexual identity. I'm sure this boy didn't die because his schoolmates were so accepting.
It makes me sick that it's always the victim who has to deal with the weight, who has to bend and forgive while those who make the choice to hurt or close their eyes aren't even required to acknowledge what they've done. You see, in the end it's not the victims who lack the strength. It's the people who find basic empathy too great to handle.
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no subject
Date: 2009-05-09 10:32 am (UTC)Seriously I am teary eyed and rage ridden. I don't think I'll make anyone cry today but your post makes me want to. And to hug you. So here's a hug **hug** and a standing ovation **clapping-O**!!
It never ceases to amaze me how far away from humanity humankind really is.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-05-10 12:03 am (UTC)Sometimes I think when adults consider bullying they a) remember that it happened when they were young so think it is 'normal' and b) empathise as adults, not as themselves when they were younger. I.e. they think 'oh they should be more thick skinned'. They forget that it is nigh IMPOSSIBLE to be thick skinned at that age--and I'm sure that's to do with hormones and brain chemistry development.
The shame you feel is what they gave you--it's not about YOU, you don't deserve to feel that. *angry on your behalf*
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