I was with my grandmother in NJ over a year ago when I heard about the brutal beating of Josie Lou Ratley, a young girl whose head was kicked and stomped while waiting after school for her bus to arrive. It was horrifying — but the most horrifying thing, to me, was that there was a gaggle of students looking on (reports, if I remember correctly, said about 20 kids) as a boy kicked her in the head with steel-toed boots, over and over. Those kids went on to say things to the media like “You could see the blood spurting out of her head.”
I am certain that some of those kids had cell phones. All were on school grounds. Not one called for help, tried to intervene, or called 911.
What on earth are we teaching our children?
I was never well liked as a school child. When we moved to Berwick I was 6 years old, starting second grade. I was quiet, socially awkward, deaf in one ear, and an academic overachiever. On the school bus, people threw gum in my hair, taunted me incessantly. On the playground in fourth grade, a group of boys tied me up in my jump rope. When I they grabbed my head to force me backward, one boy forced his arm across my mouth and ended with my teethmarks in his arm. I was threatened with suspension, and they boys were not punished. In 5th grade, a boy on the bus pulled my shirt off, leaving me in my bra. In middle school boys made bets and poked me in the breasts, already nearly a D cup, “to see if they were real.” I had one girl in high school, Becky Tanguay, who threatened me constantly — even spit on me in the hallway one day. I still feel upset when I see her around town. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself — but I learned very quickly how to stand up for others, to jump into the fray of a fist fight, to call off someone being mean or harassing. I’ve carried that conviction into motherhood — from early, early ages I have tried to teach my kids not to stand by when someone is being hurtful or unkind. We have talked often about the consequences of such actions, finding teachable moments in songs such as “Concrete Angel” or news stories or things that happen on the playground.
Bullying is hateful at any age.Those who have not been subject to it can’t understand the long-term consequences it has, the ways it carries into adulthood and sits with you at the breakfast table on frequent occasions. And the culture we live in, where people are so afraid to rock the boat, so to speak, that they will stand and gape as a girl is kicked almost to her death, begins in a culture where kids turn their head when they see teasing, harassing, gum throwing, exclusionary and hurtful behavior. It begins when they see their parents turn their heads when they see people being hateful to one another or to their children.
Teaching our children to speak out is essential – to speak out if their friends confide in them about abuse at home, to speak out if they see someone being hurt or harassed in school. My oldest child is 11 now, and she comes to me often to talk out situations she’s uncomfortable with. For instance, once, some older kids were harassing some younger kids on her bus. She was afraid to speak up because she was worried about becoming a target. We talked about some solutions that would keep her safe and secure but could stop the activity, and she made and executed a plan to help the kids — none of whom she knew well. I am so proud of the ways my children refuse to keep silent when they see someone being hurt, and it is beautiful to watch them learn and grow.
We talked about the beating of Josie Lou — we talked about what they could have done in the situation that would both keep themselves safe, but also help and protect a young girl from becoming so brain damaged that she could neither talk nor dress herself.
I am an adult, now — 32 years of age. I run a very successful business. I have a beautiful family, a husband who is my dear friend and partner, 4 healthy, introspective children. I am surrounded by loving, generous, intelligent, awesome friends that I am proud to know and honored to share this path with. But I am also still a child waiting for the next hurtful moment, even when I am not aware of it.
I speak my mind — sometimes too loudly — and sometimes, to a fault, where I inadvertently offend people. But I could not live with myself if I did not strive daily to be honest and kind, to be genuine, to be proactive, and to try to lead by teaching and example as I lead my children through their lives. I am imperfect, as we all are, but each day I forgive myself my faults and begin again, as we all should — and try to make a difference in the world in a way that will leave it more beautiful than I found it. That, in fact, is where my conviction about babywearing stems from — what led me to be in the business I am in.
There are those who strive to have “good kids.” I am striving to raise good citizens. As Mother Theresa said, “The needs are great, and none of us … ever do great things. But we can all do small things, with great love, and together we can do something wonderful.”
Together, we can change a culture that allows a world to stand by quietly as races are exterminated, as children are subject to violence, as men and women live in fear, as parents beat their children in store aisles or speak hatefully to them, as kids stand at school buses in the morning with their hearts full of dread — some of those kids escaping an even worse reality at home.
Each time we stand on the side of love, and each time we teach our children to stand on the side of love, we are doing something wonderful — because we are doing. And we must all do, because we are all human, and we will all have days where we don’t do.
I live in a country where people say, “Why didn’t someone do/say something?” The real question should be, “Why didn’t I?”
Babywearing daddies — it seems to be a charged subject. I’m fond of saying that the only thing hotter than a babywearing man is a babywearing man running a vacuum or loading the dishwasher. There are many who agree with me!
Also, I’d love to know what other articles or features you’d like to see.