A Writer’s reply to a childhood persecutor.
THERE must be something in the planets, because this week I was contacted out of the blue on social media by two bullies from my past.
One of them – a family friend in her sixties – is an educated, well-spoken, active-in-the-community, serial bully. She contacted me to get at her daughter, who she’s created devastating conflict with, but all she got was a reminder of her unfinished business with me.
The other is a man I went to school with.
Unlike my family friend, he made an unreserved apology for bullying me at school, some 30 years ago.
“I am a white, middle class, heterosexual male, who, for no other reason than the lottery of my birth, has never had to deal with discrimination,” he wrote.
“I want to be part of the change, part of the solution, rather than part of the problem.”
“All l can do is try to imagine what it would be like to deal with fools like me and their behaviour.
“Growing up, dealing with parents and high school, and puberty, and relationships, while also trying to find out where you fit in amongst it all of it was tough.
“Tough enough without also having to deal with the added layers of ridicule, judgment and misunderstanding.
“I apologise for bullying you, I apologise for ridiculing you, I am sorry for all of the ways I disregarded your feelings and failed to consider your emotional wellbeing.”
Revealing stuff. He asked me for feedback, so here’s what I wrote in reply …
Dear (name deleted),
I am a little cynical about your letter. So often I engaged in conversations with boys in our class, only to find your invitation was really a cruel trap with a bullying sting at the end. Your approach to me now could well be a case of the ‘little boy who cried poof’.
Your particular behaviour was more a sneering from the sidelines of the main bullying action, although I remember one occasion when you openly shamed me about my sexual orientation in front of an entire classroom of people, and I retreated in shock.
That sort of thing definitely contributed to me staying closeted until I was 28, by which time one of my parents had died before I had the courage to come out to her. That’s an irreversible regret I carry.
There is no doubt you remember my mother – she was one of the most active parents at our school, and you benefitted from her contributions.
My family had survived death and divorce by that time, and the community I lived in, primarily made up of school families, led me to believe that my sexuality was only going to deliver more bad news.
What a fool I was to buy into all your fears.
During our high school years, homosexuality in NSW was decriminalised.
Even though your behaviour was wrong, it was sanctioned by the state and the establishment at a private Anglican school. You and your mates were only responding to society’s pressure to shame and ridicule same-sex attracted people, but it’s great to see you’re not still letting yourself off the hook.
Truth is, our school had as many homosexuals as there were homophobes – staff and students in all years, male and female. The gay staff members were particularly vulnerable to sacking without cause, and still are, so when you were throwing around your accusations, alarm bells would have been ringing deep down for many.
Hopefully you agree that to toy with that bell is a power no child should ever have.
“Bullying children should never have power over gay people.”
If I’d been a smaller person you might now be regretting physically abusing me, but because I grew to the size I am now at the age of 15, none of you ever had the guts to approach me with the kind of abuse many other gay boys endure from their classmates. Even an awkward blow from me would have landed unpredictably and heavily.
You didn’t always succeed in shaming me. I clearly remember with great delight the day on which I turned the tables on you.
We were playing indoor cricket and I was selected to bowl with you at the crease. Your assumptions about a gay bowler saw you step forward expecting to knock the ball to the ceiling. Instead, it snuck straight under your triumphant pose and knocked the stumps over with a clatter.
The PE teacher gave me a validating look, while you had no choice but to walk to the sidelines, where your attitude belonged.
Team sport… it has its uses.
My other strong memory of you was the day you brought a cassette into English class – Cold Chisel’s “Khe Sanh” – and you asked the teacher if you could play it for us all. She agreed, sensing it was important to you, and you unabashedly sat at the front moving your head and drumming your hand on your desk.
What drew my attention was your affinity with the song and its message, and the shame-free way you claimed your right to self-expression.
I accept your apology because unconditionally offered amends are the very rarest, and you seem to ‘get’ that if I had played a song that moved me in front of our class, the outcome would have been very different.
My choice would have been Bronski Beat’s “Smalltown Boy”.
Have a listen to the lyrics one day and you’ll find some insights. The song laid out the options for growing men as starkly as Jimmy Barnes did for you.
In the 27 years since we left school I have tackled more discrimination than you can possibly imagine. Not the predictable gay bashing crimes, or the puerile name calling, but the far more subtle disenfranchisement that underpins the last frontier in same-sex equality.
I would like you to do one thing, if, as you wrote, you really seek to be part of the solution to homophobia.
Find out where your federal member sits on the issue of marriage equality through the Australian Marriage Equality website, and, regardless of what you find, write to them.
Congratulate them if they publicly support same-sex marriage – they’ll need courage from their constituents to enact change in the small window of opportunity we have to achieve this human right during the current parliament.
And if they don’t, please tell them why you now support the equality that will deliver the greatest message to school children about gay people.
That our love is equal to yours in every way.
And that bullying children should never have power over gay people.
If you do this, I’d love to see a copy of it on your Facebook wall. I’ll know when to have a look when you send me a friend request.
© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.
5 thoughts on “Apology from a school bully”
Thanks for sharing this Michael. I’m glad to see you are accepting the apology – at the end of the day its all any of us can do to move on, right?
Having not been there I can’t say whether the response is justified or not but if the apology is genuine – as I suspect it is – then some home truths will probably be accepted and understood.
I could have written that letter and would offer a different perspective. I came from a small town in the (fucking Ballet!) north east of England but now at the age of 40 with the benefit of hindsight, marriage, kids, life and over 14 years in Australia, I can look back now and cringe at some of the things I would have said or done.
To an extent we are all a product of our environment. The views and prejudices of family, friends and the community at large are what shape us and our own views as kids – right or wrong.
My Father died when I was 4 and I was relentlessly bullied throughout school – for not having a Dad believe it or not, my name (The Omen – original), where I lived (council estate), for not having money (single parent family), the right trainers, trousers, coat, schoolbag, for not being ‘hard’ enough and remarkably, having been brought up in a female household & distinctly uninterested or accomplished at sport, I was often also bullied for being ‘gay’ a ‘faggot’, ‘poof’ or whatever despite being heterosexual. So I can imagine in a *small* way what you would have had to deal with actually being gay and its not pretty.
I probably don’t need to tell you (and its not an excuse) but had you not been gay, they would have come after you for something else. I guarantee it.
Another thing to remember is that quite often if you’re the odd one out or bullied yourself, I can tell you, its easier to climb on the bandwagon when its heading away from you. You find yourself being the bully and its easy to slip into. Is it right? No. Is it cowardly? No doubt. But as a kid when people stop beating up on you for a while you take what you can get. Pack mentality.
Whenever I have returned ‘home’ on occasion, its startling that for the most part a lot of people seem to be frozen in time. The attitudes are the same, the same faces, the same nonsense, the same idiots. Small towns just don’t change it seems. Unsurprisingly I don’t rush back these days.
My best friend at school from about age 5 came out as gay in his late 20’s and reconnected with me on Facebook in recent years. After an argument over something he said that he felt I’d always bullied him. I was absolutely shocked and devastated to hear this as I’d always felt I was the victim at school and to think I’d paid out on my best friend was deeply shameful. I couldn’t see it the way he did but it prompted me to take a good, hard look at myself and challenge my views.
We DO all grow up however, most of us get wiser as we age and with life’s knocks and experiences we realise we’re all just trying to get along and learn to empathise with others. We can let silly prejudices and outdated views fall away whether it be racism, homophobia or whatever and get over ourselves so don’t for one minute assume that dumb behaviour in childhood can’t be realised and corrected later and that some of us bear sincere remorse for acts of the past.
I’m one of them…
Don’t be too harsh on those who have realised the error of their ways, changed their attitudes and behaviour AND had been prepared to put pen to paper and say so. There’s some progress. It may be slow but its moving forward.
All true, Damien, and thanks for such a considered response. This person asked for feedback. I gave it, and I accepted the apology. This person also gave me the option to not respond, but I did. Action is the gauge here, not words.
Did you get the friends request?
Not yet, but I have received so many messages of support and good wishes, had friends old and new share their bully stories with me, and this is the most well-read article I have ever posted on this site. We don’t need to put a time limit on this person, and he doesn’t need to do anything he doesn’t, deep down, want to do.
True I guess at least he saw his wrong doings. That alone is an improvement on most