Wednesday 3 March 2010

Those who can, do. Those who can't, bully.

I'm going to share my personal experiences now...

I got diagnosed with psoriasis at the age of three. Everyone at my primary school accepted the fact that I had scabby skin and white bits in my hair, it was just me, and it never changed who I was as a person.

I was never bullied at all, until the age of 9. My parents split up and in 1996 that kind of thing just didn't happen. What made it all worse was that it was my Mum who left, and everybody, including me, thought that it wasn't supposed to happen like that, your Mum was always supposed to stay with you. At that point, people who were my friends suddenly turned against me, just because my parents weren't happy together. I can still see them standing in the street outside my school singing "Where's your momma gone?" at me.

When you get bullied from an early age, it has a knock on effect on the rest of your life, whether you want it to or not. As a result of being bullied, I began to comfort eat, and little skinny Claire became a much larger Claire by the age of 11. Now at 11, I decided that I wanted to go and live with my Mum, in a new town, with completely new people. Until I started school there, everything was fine.

There were a few things I hadn't thought about when I moved from Walsall to Stourport. Firstly, my broad Black Country accent took a beating, EVERYBODY, even the teachers took the piss out of the way I spoke, until it got to a point where I refused to say any names that would broadcast my Black Country accent. Secondly, my comfort eating weight was still there, and slowly but surely the 'Fatty' cat calls began. Thirdly, my psoriasis. I was genuinely naive enough to believe that people that weren't used to me would be completely fine with the fact that I had psoriasis. How wrong was I? Suddenly, after being accepted for pretty much all of my life, I was being made an outcast over a skin condition that wasn't hurting them as they couldn't catch it, and was also heredetory. There was absolutely jack I could do about it.

By the time I started high school I had pretty much destroyed my Black Country accent, so I couldn't be bullied over that one again. But unfortunately, my psoriasis didn't want to play nicely. For almost a year my skin was well behaved and didn't flare up at all, then suddenly I had a massive patch appear on my face. It spread quite quickly so off I went to the doctors to get some cream. The cream was made by the devil, I'm convinced of it, because within 24 hours, it had burnt my face.

Now I couldn't tell you whether I was brave or plain stupid, but I just carried on as normal. And lo and behold, first day back at school and the bullying commences. Only this time it wasn't just some kids my own age, this was a group of gypsies from year 11 and sixth form. How splendid that was, gypsies multiply when they feel threatened, and for some strange reason, my scabby face threatened them. Great. It got so bad that I couldn't go to my classes and had to stay in the head of years office, under supervision for an entire day then get a lift back to my friends house after school, from the teacher, because my Mum was at work, and they all knew where I lived.

All of this hassle over a skin condition that doesn't do anybody that doesn't have it any harm.

I've never gotten angry over anything that's happened to me, and I know that I'm one of the lucky ones. I never had any physical harm done to me, and I was comfortable enough with myself, and had a strong family support system behind me the entire time. Other people have much worse experiences than mine.

Statistics show that at least 16 children kill themselves a year because of bullying in schools. In inner city areas, over 43% of children have considered suicide and one in six children under the age of 11 have attempted to kill themselves. Bullying is listed as one of the common causes.

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