Jan 062011

Would you bully this seven-year-old?

His name was Garrett.  He lived a block and a half away, and walking in front of his house was the fastest way to get to Shumway Elementary School.  Every morning, and every afternoon, I took the longer route.

Garrett was a bully, and everyone knew it.  Well, everyone other than his mother.  Isn’t that how it always goes with bullies? I can’t imagine what it was like inside his home, whether he just behaved differently to his family, or if his parents were bullies, too.  He must have learned it somewhere.

At seven years old, I already knew I was a nerdy kid.  Garrett also knew this, and he made sure that everyone else did too.  He would lead the other kids in what swiftly became a favorite playground pastime: making my life miserable.  I started staying in the classroom during recess to read.  True, I loved reading, but I also wanted to avoid his taunting.  It became a cycle.  My tactics for avoiding bullying made me even more of a target.

Toward the end of elementary school, my family moved to a new town and I thought I would be able to escape the bullies.  I thought I could turn over a new, non-nerdy leaf! Of course, I was wrong.  There were bullies in the new city, and now it was middle school.  I was a bookish, chubby pre-teen, and there is nothing quite as vicious as a middle school bully.

I never knew what to say to the bullies, so I tried to avoid them.  I withdrew into myself, into schoolwork, into books.  This did not make things better.  I became increasingly depressed and isolated.  Even when I avoided them— perhaps BECAUSE I avoided them— the bullies persisted.  I didn’t know what it felt like to not be regularly bullied.

The adults that I tried to talk to were almost as frustrating as the bullies.  It didn’t help to hear that the bullying would stop some day.  It didn’t help to hear that it would get better some day.  I wanted something to stop the bullies right away, not at some unknown point in the future.  I didn’t need promises.  I needed support.  It seemed like the adults were unwilling to help.  It never occurred to me that, maybe, they didn’t know what to do about the bullies either.

Some things never change.  A few weeks ago, I was visiting a middle school’s holiday showcase event.  A seventh-grade bully walked up to me, pushed my shoulder, and taunted “Why do you look like such a nerd?!?”  There were so many tempting, potential responses— so many things that would have felt vindicating to say to a bully, now that the insecurities of middle school are in the distant past.  However… I was also the adult in the situation, and needed to act like it.  I stammered something about it just being how I looked, and moved on.  In retrospect, maybe I should have asked “Why do you look like such a bully?”

I will grant that this New York Times article has good intentions. It wants everyone to remember that gay teens aren’t the only teens that get bullied, get depressed, and kill themselves. Unfortunately, it tries to do this by erasing the differences between the experiences of gay and straight teens, offering a diluted sort of “everybody’s different, everybody gets bullied” argument that undermines recent activism and awareness around queer youth suicide risks.

The article quotes Dr. Savin-Williams, stating “We hear only the negative aspects from research. We don’t hear about normal gay teens. It’s hard to get studies published when researchers don’t find differences. A large number of studies found no group differences between gay and straight youth, but these have not been published.” Whatever a “normal gay teen” is, I would hazard a guess that they are not the target of mass bullying.

Savin-Williams further comments, “Bullying is less about sexuality than about gender nonconformity. There are straight youth who are gender-atypical and they suffer as much as gay kids.” That’s the thing about bullying. It doesn’t matter if you agree with what the bullies call you. If you’re a gender-non-conforming teen, you’re going to get bullied as a queer— whether you identify as one or not.

In general, I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions.  I appreciate the impulse to turn over a new leaf with the new year, but personally… I aim for ongoing self-reflexivity and goal-setting, so I don’t really ever line it up with the calendar shift.  That, and the fact that New Year’s resolutions seem doomed to be abandoned by the end of January.

HOWEVER, it just happens that I’ve spent my past week overhauling this site, updating the content, adjusting the layout, and tweaking other things… and I decided, over the course of the updates, that it made sense to use the blog for something other than show announcements.  So: welcome to my (yet to be wittily named) blog!

As far as content goes: you can look here for news, thoughts, and analysis about current events, queer and trans stuff, mental health and social justice issues, and other random bits that catch my fancy.  I’ll occasionally post a new piece of narrative or creative writing.  I might even post a good recipe, upon request!  It’s a bit of this and a bit of that, just to keep things interesting.

See you in the comments.

One of the most frequent questions I’ve been asked, since I started performing ’348′ and talking about my experiences as a “troubled teen” within the psych industry is, “why didn’t/don’t you sue them?”  This question comes from a belief that a legal battle could shut down an abusive facility, or at the very least eliminate future abuses.  Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

First, of course, there’s the statute of limitations– any allegations have to be made within a certain period of time, in order for charges to be made.  In my case, that period is long over.  Why not pursue it earlier then?  Fear can be a very strong deterrent.  Many teens emerging from such facilities are reluctant to speak honestly about their experiences, because they are terrified of being sent back.  By the time they are legally adults, they can’t build the case, and facilities have been known to throw massive roadblocks up to any requests for files or patient information.

Beyond this— for the individuals who DO decide to sue— private and public mental health hospitals and facilities have powerful legal teams (you need to, in that business).  It’s unusual for the case to make it to court.  And, then, it’s even more unusual to win.

Today, I read a sobering article about what happens (in NY, at least) to individuals who DO win in their suits against abusive public psych hospitals:  the hospital can then bill them for the abusive care!  In one case, in which a woman was raped while institutionalized, “the judge ruled that a hospital might be negligent on some days while providing valuable services on others.”  This essentially makes the facilities immune to any sort of punitive damages— they can simply recover their losses by sending the abused patient a bill!

You can read the full article here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/25/nyregion/25damages.html?_r=2&partner=rss&emc=rss

It is difficult to build an accountable mental health system when hospitals and facilities cannot be effectively penalized for abusing their patients.  Facing this sort of situation…. is it any surprise that many survivors of institutional abuse decide to not pursue their case?

Yesterday, the Senate voted to repeal Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.  This long-awaited decision signals a victory to many LGBT people, ending a discriminatory practice that has silenced soldiers, ended careers, and perpetuated homophobia.  Of course, as some LGBT activists both celebrate the end of DADT, it’s important to remember that the repeal is not a victory for all queer people.  Really, I’m skeptical as to how much of a ‘victory’ it is for queers in general– while I understand the desire to eliminate discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, I’m critical of the desire to join the military.  Don’t disenfranchised queer youth already face enough violence?

Regardless of your feelings about the military, the repeal of DADT is not a success for all LGBT people.  Quite simply, trans- people still  cannot enlist/serve because we are still pathologized with a psychiatric diagnosis, “Gender Identity Disorder.” Let that be a reminder to all who trumpet the repeal as a LGBT/queer victory; I, for one, am grateful that trans folks are still protected from any future drafts…however unlikely those might be.