Clay was the first bully in my life.
I walked to school with a huge smile on my face clutching a peanut butter jar full of water and garden roses in both hands that fateful day. I was 5, and the flowers were for my adored kindergarten teacher, Miss Chang.
In a split second my joy was shattered along with the jar as it hit the ground: shards of glass everywhere...water splashing all over...roses crushed on the ground...and a smile turned to a frown, and happy turned to sad. Clay did that to me -- on purpose.
There were other kids there. They didn't do anything; I doubt there was anything they could do to help. But they went their way, left me to my own, and it hurt -- that's a painful aloneness.
I can still feel that moment, and it happened all of 44 years ago!
How can the human mind and spirit remember these things -- the words, the emotions and feelings, the settings -- years later? I wish I could forget that 5-year-old's marking moment; but, at the same time, I'm glad I can't forget because too many people are regularly and routinely bullied -- just for being who they are -- on purpose. And I want to feel something of their experience to help keep my heart tender; these recollections help me empathize more sincerely. And I'm definitely empathetic today like never before in my life! The pain, hurt, sadness, shame, aches of others pique my interest powerfully and break my heart daily.
Is empathy a part of who you are?
To my real point: What happens in you when you hear the all-too-frequent stories of LGBT men and women being purposefully targeted -- bullied with words, fists, kicks, weapons, and too many other traumatizing, intimidating means? Do you grunt approvingly, weep despairingly, Tweet, blog, search the net for resources, donate to a cause...?
Let's work together to ensure that the bullied never stand alone!
If you're reading this, you are loved! Sending a cyberhug your way! xo
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Thanks for taking the time and trouble to be in touch -- heart to heart!