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When bullying turns deadly
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Earlier this month, Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover, an 11-year-old boy from Springfield, Mass., who was bullied for acting “gay,” committed suicide. His mother, Sirdeaner Walker, found Carl hanging by an extension cord on the second floor of their home.
Recently Sirdeaner spoke out about her son’s ordeal saying that Carl, who played football, baseball, and was a Boy Scout, was also teased by a group of classmates because of the way that he dressed and because he attended church and volunteered regularly.
How sad.
About 30 percent of U.S. youth (more than 5.7 million) are estimated to be involved in bullying as either a bully, a target of bullying, or both. In a recent national survey of students in grades 6-10, 13 percent reported bullying others, 11 percent reported being the target of bullies, and another 6 percent said that they bullied others and were bullied themselves, according to the National Youth Violence Prevention Resource Center.
When I was in elementary school, I contemplated taking my own life. I was constantly picked on in elementary school. Not for my sexual orientation, but because of my church’s religious traditions. My church did not allow women to wear pants, so I wore long dresses to school every day. Kids would spit on me, throw rocks at my face and call me all kinds of names just because I dressed differently and attended church regularly. I hated school. Every day, I dreaded the long bus ride from my inner city, mostly black neighborhood to the suburban, mostly white elementary school because I knew someone would make fun of me along the way. I didn’t have many friends, just one. Even she would even pick on me from time to time whenever a group of kids would gang up on me at once. She always threatened not to be my friend anymore if I didn’t do things for her. As a child, I did it, even if it put me in an awkward situation. She was the only “friend” I had. I didn’t want to be totally alone.
I know how it feels when your peers do not accept you. When you’re a child, you just want to belong. You want to fit in. When your classmates constantly pick on you and bring you down, it causes pain, enough pain to even take your own life. One time, I wrote in my journal that everyone hated me and that I hated myself. Toward the end of the year, I had to turn in my journal for a grade. When I got it back, I noticed a note from my teacher saying, “I don’t hate you.” It made me cry. I forgot that I wrote it.
As a child, I never understood why my peers were so mean to me. I eventually began to fight back, even though I was (and still am) thin and petite. If kids wanted to hit me, I would say, “Go ahead.” Sometimes it worked. Other times, I got a little bruised.
People always say that kids will be kids. I think that is why some adults brush off bullying. Some adults don’t understand the severity of bullying and how it can damage a child’s self-esteem.
I never told my parents how severely I was bullied. I was too ashamed and, believe it or not, too scared about how they might react. Instead, I kept it all inside, only releasing my constant pain in my journal. That’s why I wanted to be a writer. I think that’s why I didn’t follow through with suicide in elementary school.
Unfortunately, little Carl, who would’ve turned 12 on April 17, the pain was too deep to live.
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