Where I FailI wrote this a back in 2015, but never published it. I’m feeling a similar rage right...
I wrote this a back in 2015, but never published it. I’m feeling a similar rage right now—not about the actions of a bully, but about the actions of those who willfully put their fellow citizens at risk. So, I decided to go ahead and post it to get these feelings out of my body.
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You’ve probably seen the video/news story going around about a high school bully that was punching a blind classmate. I won’t link the video, but if you haven’t seen it, another student comes to the rescue—he punches the bully, knocking him to the ground before checking on the blind boy. So, ultimately, it’s a story of heroism.
But see, this is where I fail as a level-headed human and parent. Because though the bully not only got laid out, not only is he in deep trouble with the school district, not only does the entire Internet hate him… I want that bully to get his ass fucking kicked every day.
I want him to end each day bleeding on the ground apologizing through his sobs, then I want it to happen again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I want more than an eye for an eye. I want a bully who punches a blind kid to feel that pain and helplessness every fucking day. And I want to watch it happen. I’d even bring popcorn.
I know I should hope for a good outcome, for the bully to realize the error of his ways and make amends. I should hope for humanity to win. But, no. I want extreme bloody justice.
This is my struggle, this is where I fail.
I don’t want my kids to have the same reaction I do to such cruelty. I want them to immediately have hope for a better humanity. I want their first reaction to be one of sympathy or empathy—kindness for all, even those who don’t feel or act the same toward others. Because that’s how they can change the world. How we react and the way we treat each other can literally change the world.
It’s hard for me to do that. I hate injustice more than I love karma. So, I’m writing this here so I’m not stewing on it when I do the bedtime routine with the boys. I’m honest with them about my failings and I make sure they know what I’m feeling isn’t correct. Understandable, probably, but not correct.
And maybe by being honest about my failures, they’ll have the components of compassion that can make us all better, make our future better.
