Bul%**#!

Adults do it too. And it doesn’t matter whether or not we know each other or for how long. We do it in the parking lot, at home, the supermarket, during the morning/evening drive to/from work, at college, church, beauty pageants/contests/auditions, the landlord, elections, nations, at the office, the subway, and so on.



I will leave the reasons to the psychologists and focus on helping you to channel your energy towards doing something more extraordinary. I do know that it has made many of us stronger and productive human beings, while others either perished or became bitter, drifting through life barely functioning.

Bullying. It happened to me in ninth grade.


Barbara was introduced to the rest of us in my gym class. I attempted to strike up a conversation; perhaps I was a little too chatty or she just didn’t want to be bothered. After awhile I saw the kind of people she hung around so I let her be. Then I discovered she was in my English class. She sat right behind me. I thought, “Oh great! Maybe she wants to be friends after all.” Hm!


One day, during the lesson I felt a swirling motion with a sharp object, like a pen, on my left shoulder. I was wearing a white blouse that day. When I turned to see what Barbara was using, she flipped the pen to make it seem as though she was using the back part of the pen. We did this several times until I pulled the cloth over my shoulder enough to see the ink marks. Back then we didn’t say “Oh hell no!” or “No you didn’t!” So for me it was more like “What the ****?” In a low tone I demanded that she stop writing on my blouse. Of course she denied it, loud and nasty too. Mind you, the teacher never said anything to us the whole time.


I turned back to the lesson and felt the swirling motion again. Suddenly I swung my left hand at Barbara and we began to fight. I had a secret desire that we’d go on long enough so I could take out all my anger, fears and stereotypes I experienced living in foster care on her face. So I tried to pull her down or flip her but our teacher had summoned the principal, who pulled us apart.

My classmates congratulated me for defending myself, but the principal still contacted my foster parents. I don’t know what my foster mother said (she was a head start teacher in the community) but I wasn’t suspended. Barbara never bothered me again and I stayed out of trouble by making new friends through the clubs I joined for example the drama club, the school chorus and the honor society, and it didn’t hurt to befriend Vickie, one of the most popular – and smart – girls at our high school. I loved Vickie because she never judged me and I wasn’t even cool like some of the other students she hung with!


The bottom line is I didn’t become a bully because of pain or anger nor did I allow myself to become a victim because 1) I didn’t want to jeopardize any possibility of returning to my biological family especially my dad 2) I had dreams of becoming an actress, although I didn’t realize my gift of teaching until later in life 3) I wanted very much to go to college.*

So for me, becoming a “bully” or a “victim” was not an option. I had (and still have) ‘things to do’!

I agree bullying has always been a part of growing up. We “size each other up” or test the loyalty of friendships or other relationships. So what’s the big deal? Today, the fatalities of bullying have reached such alarming rates it demands aggressive attention. Bullying has sparked a national call to action.


Beyond Labels
Growing up I was called every black snake, spot, dot, pan, puff o’smoke, midnight, you can think of. I’m about the same complexion as Naomi Campbell, maybe a (gorgeous) shade more chocolate. Anyhow, my foster parents exposed me to the positives of African-American culture and even though I still struggled with the stereotypes of living in foster care, I learned to embrace and love my culture. I also discovered that my skin tone has nothing to do with my ability to excel and be a productive human being.

The moment we label ourselves or accept others’ definition for who we are or words that do not express our inner beauty and talent, we give up power over our mental state and we participate in our own mental jail. It’s like holding our own selves hostage.


When you fill your days with other things like focusing on your talent or taking action steps towards making your own dreams a reality, you will no longer have the time to be bothered with making someone else suffer. It’s No wonder why we are in a constant state of dis-ease: we get fired up for the wrong things!


Really, though, I believe (great) teachers and most of society wants the best for you. We do value your existence and we do believe in your greatness. So, being a “bully” or “victim” are not options…because you’ve got ‘things to do’!


Thank you for reading. ~ Quelyn


*Read Validation Denied, Grace Bestowed:somewhere between the ghetto and God was something called foster care… a memoir by Quelyn Purdie


Next on Q’s B-Spot: Kanye West’s RUNAWAY, The Film

 Teen Task: 1. Give yourself a chance. 2. Everyday ask yourself the following questions: Who am I? Why am I here? What is my passion? Jot down answers that spontaneously arise for you.   3. Once a week or daily, jot down your experience, thoughts, concerns regarding bullying or being bullied. 4. Discuss this blog with your parents or with people you feel safe sharing your thoughts.


Fun Fact: According to PBSKids.org the word "bully" used to mean the total opposite of what it means now. Mid 1500’s, over 500 years ago, the root of the word comes from the Dutch boel which meant friend or lover. Not sure when or how we flipped the meaning.




Copyright©2010 Quelyn Purdie