October is national Bully Awareness month and I just read this headline:

My first thought was “I could see that.”

Now, I don’t hit my own kids and I would never hit someone else’s – almost never.

But, if you target my kid, if you hurt my kid, if you try to break their spirit, I just can’t make any promises. I am a mama bear and some things are just instinctual.

If you read this blog you know I loves me some strong kids. I encourage them to stand tall, be brave, and to know that situations like this are way more about the bully than about the victim. I remind them we don’t know what kind of pain that bully may be in, and that just because that person sees things in a certain way does not mean you are less than what you choose to be.

Blah, blah, blah – all true, but that does not do you much good when a meanie with control issues punches you in the spleen or puts your head in a toilet bowl. That is some serious shit and the rage that builds in me when I hear about that kind of thing is just, well, let’s just say it is very unlike the peaceful person I want to be.

I would rather my kid’s arm be broken than their spirit. The thought of someone intentionally trying to make a kid feel badly about themselves using intimidation and imagining the pain and powerlessness felt by someone we love makes us want to do anything we can to keep them safe. When bullying happens at school or on the bus and it feels like there is nothing we can do, we also feel powerless and the desire to protect is all consuming.

I first experienced this when I was pregnant with my first child – Mom chemicals flowing through my body for the first time. I was at the playground with my niece Molly. Suddenly a little boy grabbed his sister and pointed at Molly and shouted: “Stay away from her – she is gross!” (Please note Molly is not now, nor has she ever been, gross.) Molly looked up with her huge eyes swelling with tears and I had a very vivid fantasy about drop-kicking the four-year-old over the swing set with my very powerful legs. I am not going to lie, the thought scared me a bit. I was able to refrain – but just barely.

I have also had experience with my own kid being bullied. My son was 12, the boy was older and targeted him when he was alone. I spoke directly to the bully, but it was pretty clear that was ineffective. I talked to the bully’s parents but the bullying continued. I talked to the school about keeping my son safe, and while they took measures of prevention and punishment, it was pretty clear this particular bully was going to keep going full steam ahead.

Sometimes you have to think outside the box. I wondered, “What is the biggest deterrent to a teenage boy?” And then I shared it with my boy. The next time my son saw the big meanie pinning a smaller boy up against a locker in a crowded hallway he shouted “Hey, isn’t that a little gay?” The bully’s peers noticed and laughed.

Bully never bothered my son again.

This may have not been me at my best self; this may not have been the most socially progressive way to deal with it; this may have been the most immature moment in my parenting history – and believe me when I tell you it is in tough competition. I want to live in a world where violence is more abhorrent to a teenage boy than homosexuality – but I know my audience and I will use whatever I can to keep my boy safe.

I love and support the gay community, but I feel like I threw them under the bus when my son’s safety was on the line. So, would I temporarily abandon my philosophy of non-violence to slap a bully across the face?

I could see it happening.