Someone asked me why I cannot be a bully?

That was the first time someone asked me such question. It was also the first time I asked myself why after several years of being a victim of bullying, I cannot be a bully.

We were riding MRT station, going home from work, my first work after graduating from college. I was not bullied during my college years, though I experienced some indirect bashings. I took it lightly. Of course, they were my friends, and patience is the essence to have more friends. That is how I think back then, even now. But, honestly, their bashings were gravely imprinted on my mind.

Now that my new friend and I became close, we became too comfortable with each other. We started criticizing each other. Not in the mean way of course, but if people would hear us, they probably asked us if we were really friends. She often call me “fat,” obviously, she’s thin that’s why she has the guts to tease me. Being bashed seemed to become a part of my normal life. There are no months that I haven’t heard any criticisms about me, especially on how I look.

If you ask ten people, including me, to line up according to how we look, and based it on today’s criteria of beautiful, I would be the last person in the line. That’s how I imagine myself, a result of years of bullying during my younger years. People barely acknowledge my physical beauty. I am often regarded as unattractive, worst, as the ugliest in our family.   Even my relatives would give me the least attention, because of how I look. I should be agitated and angry at them. Partly, yes, but I use criticism as my advantage.

Thinking of how I was treated back then, especially when people don’t even try to bother to know me more, I taught myself of distancing myself to others, even to whom I am close at (eventually). This is how protect I myself from them. I don’t want to expect a lot from them, especially when it comes to trust issues. It is something that is too much for me to give, moreover, it will take too much pain to be betrayed by the people I regarded as family.

It is not my principle, and will  never be a part of my norm.

So when my friend asked why I don’t want to be a bully, I contemplated on the answer and come up with two things: (aside from not good in saying mean things to others) empathy and conscience. Circumstances told me that I should be vengeful or I should’ve learned how to fight, but unfortunately I did not listen to it, But that is not how I think, that’s not how I fight, I thought.

My answer to her question is empathy. I always put myself on the shoes of others, imagining how they would feel if I bully him or her.  I’ve been there. I know the feeling, although not as exact as his or feeling. But I have an idea, the feeling of what it felt like to be look down because of just how you look. It is the main reason I cannot fight the way they want me to. I have felt the pain. Why should I let others feel it too? It is like a study: when it is done and an error occurred, it should serve as a learning experience. So on the next years and following, it will not happen again, it will not be a waste of time and effort.

Moreover, despite the criticisms of my physical being, somehow, I have at least something to be proud of: It is that I live listening to my conscience, and tried my best to be good at others. At least, in that way, I would live my life at ease.