When I was in Grade 6, I was bullied by a child in Grade 4. We were the same age. However, given that I started school when I was only four, I was significantly smaller than my peers.
I had recently transferred schools. The bully, I don’t remember his name, his face is a featureless blob, I can’t remember his voice but I remember everything he said, threatened me with and the way he would move and circle about me like a predator cornering its cowering prey.
Transferring schools had come as a shock. I went from familiar surroundings and people to an almost foreign Catholic school where I knew no one and was clueless about the norms.
In class, I was silent as a church mouse. During recess, I would eat my lunch silently while standing against the imposing, cold brick walls of the old primary school.
It was not long after this that I caught his attention. I must have stuck out like a sore thumb among the sea of rapturous children jumping rope, traditional games or enthralled in school yard gossip.
At the time I did not have the capacity nor language to analyse or explain his behaviour. All I knew was that he despised me and threatened to slap and hit me black and blue if I told any of the teachers.
My acquiescence must have come as no surprise to him as he behaved like he had smelled the fear in me.
I spent the first few days of recess on edge, no longer glued to the walls of the school, I kept moving, the roles having been reversed, shivering prey keeping a watchful eye on the predator, lest he lunge at me. I hid behind bushes, the church, I went inside class but he always seemed to find me.
Despite the threats, he never hit me. He made sure to tell me every single time that he would.
In traumatic situations there is the flight, flight, freeze or dissociate ways of responding. My response was to freeze, to bid my very being to get smaller someone, for the atoms that make up my cells to compress until I was invisible.
I made friends, hid behind them and this kept him at bay.
In class, silent as ever, I would get over 90% in every subject. Yet, I never raised my hand to answer the questions posed by the teachers. My behaviour, to one specific teacher, was ‘exemplary’. She urged my classmates to be like me.
As an adult who is not even a teacher, a child behaving that way would raise red flags.
By the end of the term, I got the first position in class. I am smart? I remember pondering, weighing in my mind on how that would affect the bully. He had heard my name being called out in the assembly. He had seen. Heard the sound of applause and praise.
Surely, that would prove my worth somehow.
No. It got worse, he would accuse me of thinking that I was better than him, that I was ‘uppity’ and stuck-up. There was no winning.
I have told this story to my family and friends numerous times. However, not in this sombre, reflective way. I always start by telling them, I got my revenge.
The bullying kept going even when I went to Grade 7 but I had a solid friend group, I was still seen as the nerd and had an air of respectability that must have brought out the ‘uppity’ comments from him.
As a combined school, the high school was only a few hundred metres away from the primary school.
When I was in Grade 10, he came to Grade 8. Puberty had hit me like a bullet train and I had grown taller than most of the girls in my class. I saw him on the very first day. He was a puny thing. I wondered how in the world I had ever been afraid of him.
He saw me too, he could not escape my gaze as I stared him down, picturing an ant in his place and wishing I could shoot laser beams with my eyes. He did not say a word. By the time I left school, he was the same height he had been in Grade 8.
These two years of bullying are but a blip when I think back on my childhood. Time helped me heal, despite not realising that I had been traumatised.
Dr Gabor Mate, a trauma specialist, would call this little ‘t’ trauma. Little ‘t’ traumas are chronic stressors like criticism or bullying that cumulatively damage mental health. They may not be as impactful as big ‘T’ trauma but the body does keep the score.
“Big ‘T’ Traumas are major life events, like accidents, assaults, or disasters causing severe distress,” explained Psychology Today.
As an adult with mental health issues, I can say the bullying makes up a small part of what shaped my mind to be this way. And, I can look back and empathise with the bully, perhaps he was being abused and took it out on me, perhaps he felt powerless and seemed to gain some by stirring up and seeing the fear in me, the possibilities are endless.
I am proud of that awkward, nerdy girl who found escapism in books and cartoons and movies.
During the month of October, IOL will be carrying stories highlighting the prevalence of bullying, delving into its underlying causes, identifying what bullying looks like, and suggesting courses of action and avenues to seek help if you feel you are being bullied.
Bullying is a choice; choose better.
Join us as we at IOL say No To Bullying.
* No To Bullying is an IOL initiative. If you feel like you are being bullied, reach out to:
- Childline — 116
- Stop Gender Violence — 0800 150 150
- South African Depression and Anxiety Group — 0800 567 567
- Sonke Gender Justice — 0861 322 322
- Legal Aid — 011 877 2000
- South African Federation for Mental Health — 011 781 1852
*Xolile Mtembu is a Digital Journalist at IOL.
** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL or Independent Media.