Have No Fear. You're Safe Here

I was heartbroken last week to read several threads on Twitter in which teens and young women (all readers and bloggers) spoke up about their current discomfort in the YA book community. These threads were then discussed at length by many others who acknowledged feeling the same way. Most stated, in one form or another:

Diversity matters. Politics matter. The conduct of the publishing community matters . . . but the current climate in our YA community had made them feel like they didn't matter.

The worst part? Of the six threads I read, all were high school or college students, and:

- Four were written by young women of color.

- Two stated outright that they didn't feel comfortable even asking questions about books because of the way they'd seen friends, bloggers, and authors treated if they phrased a question "wrong", or the question implied they disagreed with leaders in the community.

- One had stopped blogging completely because she was afraid a wrongly worded review might make her a target.

As a YA author, this left me incredibly disturbed. All of us in the YA community (yes, even those who may intimidate you) got into this arena because we want to connect with young people. We want to be a support and encouragement to young adult readers. We all believe that books, and access to information, are a critical freedom, even for minors. Helping young people feel empowered, learn, and grow is why we're here.

So, if you've felt targeted, de-powered, or threatened in our community, I'm sorry. And I want you to know: You're safe here.

As a teen and anti-bullying advocate, a mother, and a citizen, I want you to know that you're allowed to make mistakes here. If you're under the age of 26, your brain hasn't even stopped developing, let alone your personality, heart, and opinions (I'm 40, and still changing my mind...)

You're allowed to disagree. You're allowed to be resolute in your choices -- even if your thoughts, feelings, and opinions don't match mine. In fact, we can be diametrically opposed, and I'll still welcome your questions and discussions. Because I know the only way to learn and grow is to be allowed to ask Why and How? The only way to influence or be influenced, is through calm discourse that analyzes the issue (not the individual). And the only way we can truly stand alongside each other is to accept that sometimes we won't see eye-to-eye. And neither our persons, nor our mutual relationship, is devalued by that.

If you know me, you know I'm not scared to disagree. I'm rarely cautious about sharing my opinion. But I can also tell you, unequivocally, that I'll always make my conversation about the issue, not the individual. And I genuinely believe there's no such thing as a bad question. Especially for someone who hasn't -- or has only barely -- reached legal adulthood. Not only are brains still developing so cognitive reasoning abilities may still be somewhat limited, but there's a lot of life left to learn through experience. None of us understood as much when we were 18 as we do now.  (Gosh, if you'd known me at 19 years old . . . *shudder* The mortifying stories I could tell about things that came out of my mouth, or decisions I made . . .)

So, I'm making a commitment to you: If you want to discuss a book (any book), you can ask your question here. I've placed moderation on the comments so no one will be able to answer your question rudely, or with insults. Every opinion that's worded respectfully--even those I disagree with--will be published. If no other readers can answer your question, and I'm not able to, I'll find someone in the know to do it with respect.

MY COMMITMENT: You will not be insulted, ridiculed, diminished, or marginalized by your conversation here, on any of my personal social media platforms, or in private correspondence with me.

If you have a question about any book or issue in the YA community that you don't feel comfortable asking publicly, either comment anonymously, or email me. My contact details are available in the header of this page.

If you find yourself in the middle of an online storm that you didn't see coming, tag me, tap me, or ask for my help. You don't have to weather that alone.

And if anyone is abusing you--verbally, emotionally, or physically--that's never okay. No matter what issue is at stake. Talk to me, or another adult you trust. You do not have to accept that. Period.

Have no fear. You're safe here. 

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HARD AND HARMFUL: An Open Letter to an Increasingly Precious Society

Bully (n) a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people.

 

About a year ago I saw a regional news team cover a story about bullying. I’d heard the headline and watched the promo, so I settled down to watch because it’s an issue that’s always close to my heart.

The newscaster stood on the sideline of a football field in the black of night, outlining the events of the previous evening in a tone of solemn concern. He informed me that several parents had complained, a community was up in arms, and many “children” had left the field in tears. The word “bully” or “bullying” was used several times during the course of the story which revolved around . . . a high school football team being defeated by a huge margin.

I’m sorry. What?

I sat in stunned disbelief over the following minutes while I learned that one team dominated so completely, they shut the younger, less experienced team out 95-0 (or something like that). The coach of the winning team, and by implication some of the players, had been labelled bullies because they didn’t “let up” when it became clear they could win without competition. Parents had complained, first to the umpires, then to the school. The committee that deals with…whatever this was, was investigating.

Now, I have zero problem admitting it’s hard as a parent when your kid’s on a team that’s being pummeled. And well do I remember the sense of shame and weariness as a teenager when my small-town school teams were trounced by the city-kids. I do not want to suggest that the evening wasn’t a challenge for all involved. But bullying? Really?

Let’s take a look at that definition again:

Bully (n) a blustering, quarrelsome, overbearing person who habitually badgers and intimidates smaller or weaker people. [Emphasis mine]

I don’t want to stand on any toes here, but I don’t define a single, embarrassing incident as proof of habitual behavior – especially when that incident involves a competitive sporting arena at high school level.

To me this story encapsulates how at times the media, teachers, parents, and even kids themselves, actually damage the cause of highlighting and educating on the issue of bullying.

See, the word “bully” holds some weight now. You start throwing that around every time a couple kids get in a fight, or someone gets hurt, and you will minimize the effectiveness of the word. And, as any kid who is actually bullied can tell you – words can hurt. They can also do good. Using “bully” correctly, and applying the proper weight to it can help the victims get the assistance they need and avoid assigning a damaging title to those who don’t deserve it.

So let’s get this right.

BULLYING IS a relentless, intentional campaign to intimidate and shame. It is targeted and malicious. The victim cannot walk away because the perpetrator will follow. The victim fears speaking up because the perpetrator will punish them (in hiding) for any discipline received as a result. The effects of this kind of relationship – and believe me, this is a relationship – are harrowing, creating deep-seated fears and insecurities which will follow the victim for years. Sometimes for the rest of their lives.

BULLYING IS NOT someone getting mad, irritated, or even aggressive with someone else. It isn’t winning where someone else has to lose. It isn’t having an argument, losing a friend, or disagreeing with passion.

Bullying isn’t conflict. It is sinister.

Bullying doesn’t just make someone feel bad for one afternoon, or over the course of a week. Bullying tells a person they lack value, and are alone in this world. It creates messages in the victim’s head that run on a loop even when that person is alone:

You’re ugly.

You’re useless.

No one cares about how you feel.

People would be better off if you weren’t here.

Shut up.

Hide.

Go away.

Die.

That’s why this problem is so difficult to solve – because we aren’t dealing with a conflict which can be reasoned and negotiated. We’re dealing with inherent, subversive messages that, over time, are actually adopted by the victim. In a perverted form of Stockholm syndrome, the person who is being hurt begins to think that the perpetrator is right.

Here’s my point:

There is a canyon of difference between normal, negative human interactions and bullying. As a culture, we need to stop pretending that people can always get along. We need to stop deciding that young people shouldn’t experience and learn to cope with negativity. We need to draw a very clear line between something that’s hard, and something that’s harmful.

So let’s stop jumping on the bandwagon when advertisers, media, or even parents cry Bully! Let’s avoid sensationalism and just listen for the signs that someone close to us is being intimidated. Let’s stop using the word “bully” to shut down people we don’t like, and start using it as the first step to empower the weak. Let’s create a genuine dialogue about what really happens when one person undertakes a campaign of violence – either physical, or emotional – against another, and start looking for ways to change what those internal voices are saying – on both sides.

And finally, if you’re reading this and you’re someone who often hears those italicized messages in your head, take it from me: They are wrong.

No one on earth sees things quite the way you do. No one loves and lives quite the way you will. You don’t need to disappear, you just need a hand.

If you can’t be sure that someone already in your life will be able to offer the help you need, talk to TEEN LINE:

Call (310) 855 4673 or (800) 852 8336

Text “Teen” to 839863 (between 5:30pm and 9:30pm PST)

Or go online: http://teenlineonline.org/

Reach out. Find out that you aren’t alone, find some friends to help you through this. Get stronger. Because one day this will get better. Then someday after that you’ll find your sweet spot. And when you do, all those people that told you to hate, and loathe, and fear yourself will all wish they had what you’ve got.

And trust me, there’s no better revenge than that.

This is Bigger than a Book - Help #StoptheHate on 8/8!

By now you probably know that I wrote Every Ugly Word based on my own experiences being bullied in high school. It makes this book incredible personal to me, but also means the issues of bullying, and self-value are very important to me.

 

With that in mind, I wrote an essay called Hate Breeds. It tells the story of one of my worst days being bullied - and how I had turned into my own worst nightmare. Because the reality is, when we get hated on, we often turn that anger and hurt into hate of our own. And that doesn't help anyone.

 

So, my publisher is doing some amazing stuff this week, and with the help of some pretty cool friends, on Friday (8/8) we're launching #StopTheHate.

 

If you've ever been bullied, intimidated, or just plain frustrated by watching someone else get hurt, this is your chance to add your voice to the conversation.

 

 

 

On Friday 8/8 we're going all-out, all over twitter, all over facebook, all over anywhere you want to be. If you follow this link, you'll find my essay, but also a ton of images that you can link and share with the world in whatever format works for you. Choose the one that speaks to yours story and share it.

 

Or, even better, actually share your #stopthehate story. Use your blog or your facebook page, use an image that resonates for you. Use your story to stop the hate. Tell the world what you've seen or experienced, and ask everyone to change how they view both the hate from others, and the hate we press on ourselves.

 

Because in the end, no one is more effective at hurting us, than we are.

 

On Friday, 8/8, help stop the hate! Join all of us who are standing up:

 

 

ON TWITTER

There is UGLY in EVERYONE. Your "UGLY" doesn't give ANYONE permission to bully you. http://ow.ly/zSwsn #stopthehate #everyuglyword 

 

You don't have to be outwardly beautiful to deserve respect. http://ow.ly/zSwsn  #stopthehate #everyuglyword

 

Find a safe place to be yourself. That's where you belong. http://ow.ly/zSwsn  #selflove #stopthehate #everyuglyword

 

 

ON FACEBOOK

 

Because I've experienced (???), today I want to help #StoptheHate. http://ow.ly/zSwsn 

 

 

ON YOUR BLOG

 

Write a story about a time you've experienced hate, and link me on twitter, or tag me on facebook. I'll promo it for you! Just be sure to include #stopthehate, and one of the images from this site: http://ow.ly/zSwsn   

 

 

 

 

Read My Dear-Teen-Me Letter

That's right, I've being hosted as the author over at Dear Teen Me. This is such a special moment for me because that was the website that inspired Breakable. But also, I just plain love what they do over there.

If you're interested, head on over and see what I would say to my sixteen-year-old self!

Aimee

I Was a Victim of Bullying... (My Story for Bullying Prevention Month)

Dear Bullied Teen,

I just found out it's Bullying Prevention Awareness Month. And because I want you to know you aren't alone, I'm going to tell my story for the first time:

I was a victim of bullying. Though it's been twenty years since I left high school, I remember.

I remember...

...when guys in my class laughed and pointed because I tripped over a mat and fell on the cement with my skirt flipped up over my back.

...when the popular girls passed me in the halls, whispering to each other while they looked at me, laughing and calling names over their shoulders.

...the guy who would mutter "I hate you," every time he saw me. Every. Time.

...the friends who'd sink into the crowd when I got cornered in the hallway by a group of girls determined to make me understand how ugly, useless and stupid I was.

...the two guys in woodshop pulling me aside and asking me what color my pubic hair was. Then, when I wouldn't answer, they laughed and ran around the class telling everyone a lie.

...a girl leaning out the window of a classroom as I passed, reciting the contents of a note she'd found when searching my school bag. (She'd photocopied my "love letter" and distributed it among the freshmen and sophomore classes).

...the more popular girls in my class wishing me a happy 15th birthday. When I smiled, they cracked an egg in my hair.

...the friend who denied being my friend when our classmates taunted her about knowing me.

...the teacher who affirmed my classmates taunting, just to get a laugh.

...the time I returned from PE to find my clothes soaking wet.

...the guy who liked me, but told me he couldn't date me because others would make fun of him.

...the guy who asked me to dance, then when I said yes, laughed in my face and called a bunch of his friends over to tell them he'd asked me and I'd said yes. "Like I'd ever want to touch her..."

...being backed up against the wall of the woodshop classroom, completely surrounded by a dozen male classmates, all of them hurling words like "slut" and "virgin" (in the same sentence, mind), "ugly", "fat", and accusing me of having sex with my father. Among other things.

...the girl who followed me home from school, hurling insults and threats, and eventually (because I completely ignored her) hit me over the head with an umbrella. Hard.

...hearing words like "ugly", "slut", "hate you", "go home", "fat", "dog", and more and more and more, every single day.

And more. And more. And more...

My heart rate still goes up, every time I talk about this stuff because of all the things I experienced, the memory of fear is the most acute. When I cast my mind back to those days, my body returns to the state I lived in back then.

It's a battlefield.

I remember dragging my clothes on for the day ahead, walking reluctantly onto campus, head down, pulse raised, body sweating, wary of what might be coming from behind, braced for impact from what I could see ahead.

At fifteen, walking down a school hallway felt akin to approaching a firing squad.

No one should have to live that way. No one. Including you.

I want you to know that it can change. It doesn't always have to be this way. But it won't be easy. Through no fault of your own, you've been handed a mountain to climb. And I know how hard and painful that trek is.

I want you to know it's worth it.

In the years since I found emotional freedom from my past I've come across a lot of bullies. Ironically, they're scared of me now. Because they don't sense weakness in me anymore. Now they sense strength. I've had friends, colleagues, acquaintances take shelter behind my metaphorical bulk, because they can sense it too:

I'm not scared anymore.

Can you imagine how wonderful that feels? Probably not. I ache knowing you're still experiencing that pain and fear every day.

If I could tattoo anything on your heart it would be: "You have value. You are loveable. They are wrong." I would follow you around repeating those words and more - how important you are, how critical you are, how necessary. That the world would be less if you weren't here. But as a former victim myself, I know those words, while they hold hope, are hard to believe when you're in the bunkers, rallying strength for the next altercation.

So, I wrote a book. Among other things, it's about a girl who's bullied relentlessly at school - and those around her don't quite realize how bad it is. It's called Breakable because you and I both know that people aren't impenetrable. There are weights that are too heavy. There are blows that are too hard. We are fragile.

We can break.

I didn't write Stacy's character to retell my story. She has a story of her own. And I didn't write her to tie up a bullying story in a nice little ribbon - because you've probably already figured out, our stories don't end that way.

I wrote her story so that you know that I remember how it feels. And I know that it's wrong. I wrote it because I want you to see that even though I don't know you, I love you. I feel for you. I hurt with you.

No matter what anyone else tells you, the truth is: Those bullies in your life are wrong.

The day will come that you'll be strong. You won't feel isolated or afraid. You'll know with certainty that they are wrong. Then they'll lose their power, and you'll lose your fear.

But until then, know that I haven't forgotten, and I know how hard it is. And I'm not the only adult you'll meet who understands. You aren't alone. It won't always feel this way.

I was a victim of bullying, but not anymore. I'm strong now. I can sit in the bunker with you until you're ready. Then I'll remind you: I'm walking proof: You can find your way out of that hellhole. So don't give up. Please, don't give up.

They're wrong.

If you or someone you know is being bullied you can get help. Start with a school counselor, or a parent or family friend who had similar experiences. If they don't get it, keep looking: Sports coaches, teachers, aunts and uncles, older kids whose lives have already changed... just keep looking. You need help. You deserve help.

You can also get in touch with others who've been in your shoes, and the adults who can help on sites like www.pacerteensagainstbullying.org, and http://www.uft.org/our-rights/brave (check out the BRAVE line contact details on the right).

Don't stop looking for help. Don't give up!