For me, bullying started in first grade.  I was born in San Antonio, Texas and then moved even farther south in Texas towards the Rio Grande Valley.  I started in public school and and 1st graders were cruel then; fights in the classroom, name-calling, etc. So my dad is an Episcopal priest (don't freak out Episcopal priests are just a denomination of Christianity and it is a denomination where the priest can marry a man or women) and the church he was serving at had a school so I transferred to this small Christian private school and was accepted into this family. However, sometimes families get into fights.

I made tons of friends at St. Matthew's, teachers, staff, and students, but not everyone liked me.  A heavy kid, Justin, was bullied by others and he would take out his anger on me because I was not as heavy as he was but I was still a chubby kid.  It took nearly 5 years to resolve the feud when we hit graduation year at 6th grade. Also in third grade, a group of older boys would bully some of the younger guys and me.  Most of us younger guys were pretty scared then, but I wasn't- I fought back.  They would always sit at this one table at lunch and to show them they did not own us, I convinced my friends that we were going to sit down and eat at "their" table before they got to lunch one day.  When they found we had sat down at their table they told us to get up and move.  My friends were scared but I wasn't so I told them no, there are other places to sit. That didn't sit well with them so they took my food and threw it on the ground and so I did the same to one of their lunches, and then another grabbed one of my best friends and threw him out of his chair.  I was so furious I got about and right when I was about to hit him, a teacher came and told the older boys to cut it out and leave.  I thanked the teacher for stopping me and I helped my friend up.  We had similar problems with them before and even a little bit afterwards.  They would beat me up and say things like, "I thought a preachers kid would do what his dad taught others." I would then say in response, "My dad doesn't teach people to comply with bullies' demands." I even had a tennis ball thrown at my face which gave me a black eye.  The main bully Joshua, who threw the ball, said it was an accident but I knew it wasn't.  Somehow after they graduated and moved on I was able to forgive some of them and be friends with them, but others I couldn't and they wouldn't either. 

After those boys graduated a new kid came into my class.  A new kid is rare in that school and we were all excited to meet him, but I soon regretted it meeting Sam.  He would make fun of me for being chubby and do the same to that Justin kid I told you about earlier.  He would never get physical and hurt people but it was always the emotion.  He would even make fun of me for having fun with my friends for laughing even.  The worst part about it is that I had friends that didn't notice that part about him and liked him as a friend.    I would never say anything hurtful back to him, I would either ignore it or tell him to cut it out or get a teacher.  I did however reach a breaking point three times. 1. He called me a fatty that needs to get a life and I went up to him, knowing I am bigger than him and mostly everyone I know (I'm 6' 2" now and I was 5' 4" then and he was 4' 6") and I pushed him and then hit him in the face. 2. He made fun of me for having a good time and laughing so I kicked him in the leg. 3. I was minding my own business playing soccer, he was playing too, but he said stop trying and just go be goalie with your fat self and he tripped me while stealing the ball.  I later picked up the ball and threw it at his face. 

The bad part about being bullied at St. Matthew's was that there was no point in telling an adult.  I tried several times telling an adult and they would not listen to me, or they would nod and give me that same plastic smile and say okay i'll see if i can do something about that but they couldn't.  My dad might have been the headmaster at the school but the principal handled students and their behavior.  It was extremely hard for me at that time because my mom is an alcoholic and it was that time were she would do heavy consistent drinking.  She would disappear sometimes and later she went to a treatment center for a month or longer.  She is doing well now but I am a huge mama's boy and i missed her a lot during that time.  There was one principal that didn't understand me and always said to me that kids are kids and their will be conflicts but its just life so you just need to shake on it and move on, but that is not how it works.  Just like that one scene in the movie Bully, if we were both to shake hands in front of the principal, neither one of us would mean it and it would just continue and get worse when the principal thought things were okay.  We later got a new principal and when I would loose my mind she would understand, but my teacher wouldn't.  My sixth grade teacher thought I was the bully sometimes.  She told me she couldn't justify in her mind why anyone would react harshly to harsh words being said.  The problem was that she wasn't me.  She can't justify my mind; only I can do that.  Like the Sheriff in the Bully movie who was handling ja'maya's case, he said he couldn't justify why anyone would threaten someone with a gun no matter what kind of emotional words are being said, unless they are physically being threatened.  He was not her and he had no right to say that, just like a government should not be able to dictate who can and who can't be married to the person they love, or what a woman does or doesn't do to her body.  

I moved from south Texas all the way to Wichita, KS.  My dad was called to serve at a different church and that meant I had to move.  I was sad to move away from all my friends and a place I practically grew up, but I was ready for a new beginning.  I started in a public school for 7th grade and boy did my wold change.  I didn't realize how divers the world can be.  In South Texas, I only knew the Hispanic culture and their traditions and cultures and values and beliefs along with some white folk but also the Texas country way.  In Wichita I did not only get that, I found many more white people and suburban culture, but also the Asian and African American culture, but also how careless and cruel kids can be.  It took me a while to make friends but I did and I got into the Gifted program.  I saw bullying happen and I would stick up for the victims but I forgot about how it feels to be the victim.  

The start of my eighth grade year we move into a new house in Wichita and my parents force me to go to a new school, which I did not want to do all over again after we moved to Wichita, plus 8th graders are not that concerned with new kids since its the last year and they have practically grown up in middle school together.  My parents thought it would be good for me and no matter how much I tried they made me go. Teachers placed me in pre-IB education with the best of the best kids.  The best of the best kids were not so great as I came to learn.  Most didn't like me and they singled me out a lot.  I was friends with one other kid who was new like me, and their were a few other people that might have been my friends, but I didn't trust them.  The bullies would single me out and exclude me from things.  They would say hi Trevor with a fake smile on their face as if they were about to bust out laughing any second and go "JUST KIDDING!" Then they started to call me gay and a loner and one kid told me a needed to die my hair black and cut myself.  I would walk home and cry and when my parents asked how my day was. I would never say good like I used to, I wouldn't say bad either because I didn't want them to worry, but I would say it was okay or tell them it was a day.  They usually didn't know I was sad or I was crying and I thought it was obvious and they didn't care. But one night when I didn't want to eat dinner and I couldn't focus on homework, they knew something was wrong.  They let me take a "mental health day" that next day. So I slept in till 10 in the morning.  I told them everything, and I could tell they were upset.  ON my birthday they told me my gift was that They were letting me transfer back to Coleman, the school I went to when I first moved to Wichita.  I was so excited I cried.  My parents cried too and they said we just wanted our son back.  I learned this later but when I took my mental health day, our house was TP-ed most likely by the bullies.  My parents cleaned it up before I woke up so it wouldn't make me worse.  I also know it was the bullies because I told one of my friends about it and they were friends with a friend of the bullies and that friend told my friend that her friends were gonna TP this tall, gay, blonde kid's house.  The bullies know I know what they did because I transferred schools and I have run into them a few times and when they ask why I left, I say, "Why do you think?" and they walk away. 

Know I am still being called gay.  If you just look at my profile pictures you might judge me based off of my clothing and think I am gay, but that's because I am metrosexual. I just like the stereotypical way a gay man would dress so I do and I don't care what people think about how I look or act.  Some of my friends think I am gay but they won't admit it.  I shouldn't have to explain why I dress or act a certain way.  A gay person shouldn't have to explain why they are gay because THEY JUST ARE. Like Lady Gaga said, "Baby you were born this way." 

I have a friend who was and is bullied and she has tried to kill herself two times and she spent time in a mental hospital.  She is bisexual and dating a girl.  She is stand-offish and doesn't talk as much as she used to.  I posted a Facebook status one night about how I believe in standing up against and bullying and for those faced by it and for the gay people and the struggling people etc that face it all the time. And this girl messages me  saying "you save my life with that status because I was planning on killing myself that night but when I got on facebook for what I thought was the last time I saw your post and I thank you for that." I have since helped her with coming out to her mom and dad about being bisexual and dating a girl.... I am her friend.  

I could go on and on about my story and others and how bullying sucks and it needs to stop.  But my story isn't over and I will add on to this part of me i can't forget.  I know their are people that have experienced worse than I, but I am one story, one chapter, one victim, one upstander. Bully changed me in a way.  I know I need to help put an end to this.  I need to survive and help others to do the same.

In elementary school and high school I was bullied for being the smart kid, I would just let them say what they wanted and I never told anyone that this was happening. The worst part about it was I internalized everything and I would hurt myself in return. I had scars on my arm that look like bug bites and everyday kids would call me a meth addict. That hurt the most. Nobody wanted to sit with me or work with me as their partner. This happened every day. For a long time I didnt wear anything but long sleeve shirts and sweaters because I figured if they couldn't see it then they would stop bullying me. It didnt help they continued to do it anyway. I like to believe that I am a strong person and I try my best to not let things bother me....now that I am graduated all I want to do is help others that are being bullied. This is a horrible thing and it hurts way to many people. I want to help stop it.

Stephanie Amos

My name is Katie. I am 18 and a half years old. From the age of 14 in 2008 I was bullied at school. It wasn't every day but it certainly was frequent enough for me to be scared and fearful of being at school and running into certain people from my school in the community. I was called a 'rat, a 'skank', a 'slut', a "boy', 'flat chested' and numerous other insults. I was also physically abused twice by being slapped and punched in the face. A girl threatened to kill me if she saw my face outside of school. The two main perpetrators left school and I continued my education until year 12 with constant difficulties. I was diagnosed with major depression in early 2010 and with post traumatic stress disorder in early 2011 which continued until I finished school in 2012. I am now at university studying psychology and I have written this story not with the aim of gaining anybody's sympathy but to simply prove to people that you are not alone, that bullying is a horrible horrible thing and it may affect you for the rest of your life as I believe mine will, but you can continue life knowing that you have the strength to soar.

It’s amazing how much power one word can hold. The word nigger carries varying degrees of weight and meaning for different people, but for me it represents the loss of my childhood. I can’t recall hearing the word uttered before my family and I moved from an urbanized neighborhood in Connecticut to the vastly different culture of Vermont. I suppose I must have been exposed to the word in one form or another during my youth, most likely in the form of a song lyric by Tupac Shakur or Biggie Smalls, but I can honestly say that I had I never felt a negative reaction to the word “nigger” before crash landing in the predominately Caucasian community of White River Junction, Vermont. For the first time in my life I realized that I was a minority.

            My memory of the initial introduction to the harsh realities of racism have recently been rekindled after one of my classmates felt it was necessary to express their hatred and disgust regarding many aspects of my life, including my proclamation as a bi-sexual man, the various ethnic bloods running through my veins and my past year spent in recovery from addiction to narcotics. This was someone who I had tried to perceive as a friend, that I would have liked to trust and feel safe around, but that idyllic illusion was shattered after they referred to me as a “faggot-nigger”. With the utterance of these words I instantly felt as though I was once again a lost and frightened little boy, forced to relive every event of discrimination I had ever experienced from the time I was twelve years old. I was once again reminded of the painful truth that I will always be different and perceived as less than by many. My memories brought me back to the frigid coldness of my first winter in Vermont, as I was being chased from the bus-stop by teenage boys from my neighborhood, assaulting me with snowballs, large chunks of ice and branches from nearby trees. I can still hear them shouting “Nigger”, with such hatred in their eyes and anger in their hearts that I almost assuredly could feel radiating from within them. I couldn’t understand what I had done to make these people hate me so much, and what this word that they seemed to favor in describing me really meant, although somehow I knew that it caused me a great deal of pain beyond the welts from the projectile objects. And so began my education into the all-too-real concept of racial hate and the overwhelming fear that it can cause. Before moving to Vermont, my awareness of the Civil Rights Movement and such pivotal persons as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks did very little to prepare me for the fact that racism is still alive and well in this world. Viewing ancient looking monochrome film clips and news reels only added to my perception that racism was a thing of the past and that I had nothing to fear.

Coming from a mixed family, with a Caucasian matriarch, a Black-Hispanic father and four younger sisters whose skin tones all reflected mine, I simply did not grasp the idea that there were people in this world who would look at my family with disgust and believe that there was something wrong with us. My classrooms in Connecticut were mostly comprised of children who looked like me and with my maternal family being white, I never knew that there would be any social barrier that I would one day have to face and overcome simply because of the color of my skin. After years of dealing with racial tensions that eventually led to physical fights with classmates and neighbors, the reoccurring event of my home being covered with graffiti exclaiming various racial slurs and drawings, my mother tried involving the school system and the local police department, but nothing was ever done to resolve the matter.

The harassment continued for a time, until I eventually gave up on fighting back or even reaching out for help. By now I had learned the lesson that these hate-filled people were free to do as they wished to me and that there was no one in any position of authority who were going to respond to my cries for help and awareness of the issues that I faced.

            Several years have passed since that first cold Vermont winter, and although I have had a few incidences where I’ve overheard racist and homophobic remarks seemingly being cast in my direction, I have reminded myself that nothing would come of my protests to this treatment, but after a slow progression of tensions between a fellow student and myself resulted in her boyfriend and herself purportedly calling me a “faggot-nigger”, I feel that I can no longer stand idly by. Perhaps I have simply reached the end of my own personal rope, or maybe I am finally looking beyond myself and this isolated event, seeing into the future and looking at the world that I will soon raise my daughter in. Can I stand silent any longer and in turn deliver the message to my child that people are free to harass and assault her soul and spirit to the result of no consequence? It is time for me to make a change. I can no longer stand in the shadows while ignorance and hatred are cast in my direction and simply tell myself that this is how the world works. I have come to accept that there will always be hate and ignorance, a sad truth but a truth nonetheless, but meanwhile I face a consequence. Anyone who has ever felt the emotional toll of adversity and the fear of what these hate mongers will do simply because we are, can understand my pain and anger, but the fear of retaliation and the vulnerability of standing against the crowd is crippling, often to the point of keeping us repressed and silent.

            I know that I am about to embark on a long journey that, in the end may lead to no change whatsoever, no apologies given or lessons learned. I am no longer filled with the child-like ideals of being able to cause the ignorant ones to see the errors of their ways or to change who they are at their core, but if by standing up for myself I can help even one person to feel empowered to do the same, then I have accomplished the greatest achievement of all.

W.A.R.M.

[email protected] 

John Toomey
401 Eron Way
Winter Garden, FL 34787
248-882-2104
[email protected]

Hi! My name is John Toomey. Here is my story:

I was born in Michigan in 1983. I moved to Florida with the hope of working for a major theme park in 2004…I have been with them since. Throughout my early childhood and teenage years, I was bullied! I had no friends! I was subjected to all sorts of name calling…gay, fagot, etc. Whether that was true or not , that’s not the question, it’s that I was judged to be that way. At the age of 3, I was misdiagnosed with ADHD. It wasn’t until I was 16 that my family and I discovered that I had Autism. That was a shock to my family! I came to find out that I had “Asperger’s Syndrome.” A “high-functioning” form of Autism. To someone who didn’t understand my condition, they would get the impression that my jerks and actions would indicate someone of a feminine nature. These things I have no control over. I was misunderstood so many times!

In helping me to overcome the emotional scars of being bullied, I turned to the tv and the internet to watch and listen to stories of others. I ask myself. . .why does it continue to happen? If people understood what I had, would they have thought twice about treating me wrong? When some of them found out, they were very apologetic. . .but at that point who cares? I feel there is not enough people speaking out about this! It continues to happen everyday in schools and in the work place. I see it!

It has been a dream and a goal of mine to aide in educating people on the “negative” emotional effects of being bullied and harassed. What better way to reach people then through the media.

I am a simple person. I guess people with Autism are. I worked at McDonalds, which was a big accomplishment in my life. I was a contestant on “The Price is Right” and had the opportunity to meet Bob Barker. And now, I have been working at a major theme park for 8 years! I have overcome many challenging things but feel there is more in life I have to do.

I would love to get my story out there!

People with Autism CAN do things! People need to be respected regardless of their station in life. I keep a messy room and need to clean the inside of my car. . .I sometimes buy too many cleaning products and think that someone how it will clean itself. I own over 80 pairs of shoes and love to buy refrigerator magnets. Am I normal? Not according to the world’s standard…I am just being what I know to be…Myself!

I sometimes pace around the house at night wondering how I can help people who are like me. I know what it feels like to be isolated and alone and no one should feel that way.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. Hopefully I will get the opportunity to continue to help other’s like me.

Sincerely,

John Toomey

I have Tourette syndrome which is a disease (not infectious) makes you move even if you don't mean it. People started bullying me in 5th grade. All of them would mock me or get on the floor and pretend to have a Spastic attack. But now....I have best friends who are by my side and understand me. Especially my Mom. She has been with me every step of the way. They are everything I could ask for. I am very happy with my life. But I still think that schools should do more about bullying because it can effect a child to think that they can get away with anything they want to. That shouldn't happen. Everyone can should take a stand and Stop Bullying. SPEAK UP!! WE CAN AND WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE. :)

my bullying experiences lasted all through elementary and is still going on now. i am 15 and every time i even talk about bullying i hide all the memories just come back. i was bullied in kindergarten because of my hair i have red hair and nobody liked it. i was called freak, ugly and that i didnt belong there. kids need to realize what they say hurts and it needs to stop!but it didnt just stop with students and kids. my grade one teacher started to pick on me telling me i was stupid and that my hair was a rats nest, i came home crying everyday. we moved and i thought that the bullying would be done, i was wrong it wasnt even far from done . i got to my new school and i thought i could make friends i tried so hard i found to girls that i though were my friends but they wernt they would say stuff to other people. i was alone again.. i kept telling myself maybe people just dont like. in grade 3 i finally found a friend that liked me he was different just like me  he was bullied just like me. him and i were friends for so long but then came junior high it was worse i started hanging out with this girl she became my best friend or so i thought. she wasnt she just would take everything and just spread it around. i got called whore, fat, ugly, that i wasnt welcome, i represented the devil, it hurt a lot. i thought i found a guy that i liked and i asked him out and he said yes. we went out for almost a year then he cheated on me i was crushed, then he told me the only reason he went out with me was because he felt bad for me that hurt even worse. that year i started to become suicidal i thought many many times that i didnt want to be here. i became depressed stop talking to everyone. not even the guy i met in grade three talked to me because i was a freak. he started to hang out with all of the people that bullied him in elementary and i just cant forget the first time we met. this year the Dare To Care foundation came to my school and i got the honor to be in the small group session. that showed me that i am a somebody i am a human and people better start treating me with more respect im not going to be stepped on anymore. thank you for trying to stop this it needs to stop not now but right now!

Bullying started for me when I was around seven. People would call me ugly, skinny, and would say I was too smart. This happened everyday, everywhere. When I was nine I tried to commit suicide by taking numerous pills. It didn't work and I just threw up. To this day my parents don't know about this. When I was 10 I realized that I wouldn't let them control my life. Ignoring it wasn't doing anything, so I told them off. I got in trouble for it, but in the end it stopped. Although the bullying stopped, I still think that everyone is talking about me. If someone around me starts laughing I think it's  about me. Bullying is a messed up thing and can ruin anyone's life. There needs to be a stop to this. 

My experiences started in the late 80's and early 90's.  There were LOTS of derogatory words shouted in the halls frequently- even in front of teachers/faculty.  There was name calling and bullying in the classrooms as well.  It was considered acceptable in Plano, Texas at the time.  The violence was the worst though.  Numerous vicious physical assaults, getting held at knifepoint for lunch money, and lots of other things.  The schools wouldn't listen, didn't care, and just wanted to protect their terrific reputation.  The Plano Police Department refused to do anything whatsoever to stop the violence.  We made it very clear that there were weapons involved, but they wanted no part of it.  People died because of this- suicides went up.  I'm very concerned about these issues no matter where they take place.  It's time to really take a stand and get some serious answers from schools and police.  I encourage everyone to talk to their local school officials and police departments to address the issue of bullying and violence.  Don't back down.  There can be no justice until every voice is heard so speak up!!! 

In the second grade, my best friend's name was Bree. She was so funny and awesome and we alwasy hung out. We'd call each other after school each day and talk for hours. In the fifth grade, however, this all changed. I knew this girl Laurie from soccer camp, and Laurie transferred to my school. Bree and Laurie became instant friends. And then...Bree and I weren't anymore. She always hung out with and called Laurie.

And this would have been bad enough, had she not become a bully.

It first started with ignoring me, or saying snarky things about me behind my back that she thought I didn't hear. It quickly escalated to flat out disrespectful name calling. I cried a lot. Then, one day she actually threw mud at me. And then the pebbles off the school playground. And then she wrote down my deepest darkest secrets I had ever told her and passed them around the school. She even went so far as reporting ME to the counselor for bullying HER. There was nothing I could do. I had no friends now.

And then this new girl Cailey came to our school. She was from New Mexico and she was so awesome. She didn't take crap from people and quickly made friends. I, a now natural loner, was sitting by myself one day at lunch, and she just came and sat down by me and started talking to me like we were old friends. She took me under her wing and we became fast friends.

I am now a high school freshman. Bree is still very much popular despite her kniving tendencies. Laurie moved to New York. They're still friends. Cailey and I don't see each other very much, as we have very different groups of friends now. She came out as a lesbian last year. Pretty much all the school, including Bree, said some very mean things about that. But Cailey didn't care and didn't let it get her down.

I support her, and her girlfriend, or whomever she chooses to be with, and I always will, because she supported me when I really needed someone.