Tuesday 20 May 2014

Rebuttal to the "Grow some balls" solution to bullying

This isn't really a blog post, per say, it's a rebuttal to an ill-reasoned argument that the anti-bullying campaigns have had almost no effect on teen suicide rates over the last 30 years.

Using Canadian statistics, from 1980 to 2008, the rate of male child and teen suicides (10-19) decreased yearly from a high of 249 in 1980 to 156 in 2008. That's almost 100 less dead boys. Even after factoring in differences in birthrates, this is still a significant win. Unfortunately, girls are seeing the opposite. In 1980, 50 female children and teens (10-19) committed suicide. Those numbers have increased yearly with 77 dead girls in 2008. *

When it comes to teen suicide, things are not "pretty much exactly the same" as they were 30 years ago. Statistically, there are significantly fewer dead boys and significantly more dead girls.

Now I'm not going to strictly attribute the decrease in boys to all of them watching Karate Kid and becoming martial arts masters, the beat the bully fantasy, any more than I would attribute it strictly to anti-bullying campaigns. Complex social issues, like suicide, are rarely ever pared down to one cause, unfortunately.

For the decrease in boys, it could be a lot of things. Better mental health diagnoses and treatment, greater acceptance of homosexuality, stronger emphasis on open communication. Hell, it's a lot less socially acceptable to get drunk and beat your kids and spouse than it was 30 years ago too, so lives at home may be better.

As for the increase in the girls, we need to find out why we have more dead girls. Period. Fobbing off the issue with a bullshit "grow some balls" attitude ain't the way to solve it. Rehtaeh Parsons was a teen who killed herself last year after being bullied relentlessly by boys who allegedly sexually assaulted her earlier at a house party. Using your two proffered solutions for bullying, Parson's could have A) severely beaten those (much bigger and stronger) boys, or, B) become their BFFs.

Now ask yourself this, if you were Parson's dad, which of your two options would you tell her to use?

* Suicide among children and adolescents in Canada: trends and sex differences, 1980-2008.  http://www.cmaj.ca/content/early/2012/04/02/cmaj.111867.full.pdf+html

Monday 12 May 2014

A post for mothers

Mother's Day was yesterday, and as usual, I'm day late, but hopefully not a dollar shy.

I'm at an age where most of my friends have reproduced or are currently reproducing. There's a lot of little ones on the go. I am most proud of the parents I know, because they are excellent parents. And parenting is really hard work, that's why I have dogs.

Now all of my parent friends will tell me that the hard work is more than offset by the love of being a parent. I know this has to be true. When I was thinking about what to write about mothers and children, my thoughts turned to all the ways mothers make you feel wonderful, and as a child, you in turn, give them a reason to favour tubal ligation.

I settled on the middle-of-the-night bathroom run. The middle-of-the-night run happens long after your parents have tucked you into bed and gone to bed themselves. While you felt fine at bedtime, now it's the middle of the night and the contents of your stomach have reformulated from harmless bedtime snack to toxic upwardly projectile substance.

I don't know about you as a child, but I don't ever remember making it all the way to the toilet. No, I remember making it to the bathroom door and in a spray reminiscent of the Exorcist, coating everything lower than three and a half feet in vomit. This is of course, very upsetting, so cue the waterworks.

Your mother, awakened by your frantic dash, gets there just in time for the aftermath if she's lucky, and by lucky, I mean spared watching you coat the baseboards with partially digested Cheerios, because you were never making it to the toilet, even if she was there.

No, she is presented with a hot, sweaty, bawling child standing in a pool of stinky puke. For the child, the cavalry has arrived. Your mom cleans you up, puts you in fresh pajamas, and tucks you back into bed. It's the best feeling in the world: you are safe, cherished, and loved. Then she goes to the bathroom to clean up ground zero, after which, she can hopefully fall asleep for a few hours before you wake up and continue puking. Or feel perfectly fine. Kids are tricky like that.

So my belated wish for Mother's Day is that all of you mothers feel safe, cherished, and loved, the same way you make your kids feel when you clean them up and tuck them back in bed after a middle-of-the-night run.

PS Other animal species are known to eat their young when under stress. Thanks for taking the high road.