Why I Told My Daughter to Kick Your Son in the Balls

There was an article that went around last year that my virtual writer friend Ashley Fuchs wrote called The Reason My Daughter May Punch Your Son. When I read the article, my daughter was in kindergarten. In my mind, she was years away from this kind of harassment, so I read it, and I shared it, but I didn’t internalize it the way some of my fellow parents did. Because I thought I had more time.

Turns out, my time is up.

“Mom, I got bullied today,” she said as we walked home from school.

“Bullied?” I questioned. I don’t like the word. I think it’s overused and thrown around, and I have a hard time thinking that my sassy, very independent little girl could possibly be bullied, so I questioned her a little. She tends to be dramatic, and by the time we got home, she said some boys were chasing her on the playground. I told her not to play with them anymore if they bugged her, and that was that. We went on with our day.

Fast forward to dinner where she brought it up again. We always go through our highs and our lows of the day, and when it was her turn to voice her low, she said, “Some boys bullied me today.” Since this was the second time she brought it up, I probed harder.

“Tell me exactly what happened, ” I said. She went on to say that some boys were hitting her butt on the playground, and when she told them to stop, they called her chubby and laughed at her.

That’s right. Two boys put their hands on my daughter, and when she told them to stop, they called her fat and made fun of her. Let that sink in for a second.

Want to know where they learned that? I have an idea.

Rage boiled inside of me, but I squelched it and asked her what she did next. She said she told the teacher, and the teacher told them to stop, but they didn’t.

The more I listened, the angrier I got. She showed me on my own butt what they were doing, and it can only be described as groping, but she didn’t understand that.


We discussed how inappropriate and unacceptable it was/is, and I commended her for doing the right thing by telling the teacher.

She put her head down and said, “Tomorrow, I’m just going to hide at recess.”

I pulled her into me and lifted her chin up so she could look me in the eye, and I said, “NO. You will not let two boys ruin your free time. You will not allow them to take your fun away. They are breaking the rules. If they do that tomorrow, you say ‘Keep your hands off of me.’ If they do not stop, you tell the teacher. If they continue to bother you, you turn around and step on their feet, or kick them in the shins or their business, and if you get in trouble, go ahead and tell your teacher to give me a call.” I explained that she might end up in the principal’s office and that we would deal with it if we had to, but I made sure she knew that she was empowered to defend herself.

Our boys are learning from us. It is not innate that when a girl says no, they immediately go to calling her fat or ugly. This is learned behavior. Your job as a mother and as a father is to make sure your sons (and daughters) know better. I can tell you that if I learned that my son had touched a girl the way these boys touched my daughter or spoke to another child the way they did, there would be some serious consequences at our home. He knows better. He’s been taught to respect all people, all women, your daughters, so if he steps out of line there, I want to know.

Parents, teach your sons (and daughters) that they are not entitled to touch anyone anywhere, that my daughter’s back side is not for their hands, that if they do put their hands on (MY) child, they will not get away with it because she will defend herself the best way she can.


(To read more of Ashley Fuchs’ articles, visit her page: The Incredible Adventures of the Malleable Mom.)


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Photocredit: Stock photo




The Silent and the Not-So-Silent Bully

When I was in high school, every morning a group of guys gathered around their lockers conveniently located right by the front door of the school. As students walked through the door, their torment began. They weren’t too selective. Anyone could be their target. They made fun of shoes, bags, shirts, pants, faces, teeth, hair, anything.

It pains me to say that I was part of their group, not the part that made fun of people, but the quiet part. The group of kids who stood two feet away and did nothing. The silent bullies. The ones who didn’t stick up for the poor kid who couldn’t afford new pants, so his were too short. God forbid. And he never heard the end of it.

I sat at their table at lunch.  I even (gasp) dated one or two of them. *gags* Until one day, I walked into school with my best friend, and we watched these assclowns knocking a kid’s books out of his hands and then making fun of him and tripping him when he picked them up, classic movie bully stuff. My friend and I looked at each other and then went to help the kid with his stuff. As we were walking away amid the echoes of their lame jokes, I said to her, “I don’t need to be friends with them anymore,” She responded with a boss nod, and from that point on, we never looked back.

And then it began.

“Hey, Castle! New shirt?” I heard. Or, “New shoes?” or “New boyfriend?” Yeah, they were quite the cleverless put downers. Just a group of ugly assholes who picked on everyone who wasn’t part of their group, a gaggle of geese constantly giggling like dipshits.

I loathe the term bully and think that, as a society, we are highly over using it. But these guys were bullies, a mean spirited group of trolls, quite literally. Ironically, the meanest boys in school happened to also be some of the least attractive and the most popular.

I remained distant friends with some of that group, but I never sat at their table again. I never went to their parties again. And I cringed every time I saw their mean boy posse. Passing them in the hall and being hit with “Hey Castle” followed by a barrage of their inbred idiot assaults became my daily adventure.

You could say that I quickly went from totally chic to totally geek, and I was okay with that.

Before, I wanted so badly to be accepted that I ignored their bad behavior. I ignored their meanness. I ignored when they made other kids cry. For years. And I wasn’t alone. It was a defense mechanism. I knew if I defended their target-of-the-day, they would turn their mean on me. And I was right. They did.

But they didn’t ruin school for me. I luckily made friends with some of the most brilliant amazing kids who I probably would not have gotten to know had I remained “popular.” And those kids enriched my life. They made me better. They encouraged me and applauded me, and I will forever be grateful for seeing that before it was too late.

So let’s get to the point here.

It’s no secret that I’m not a huge fan of The Donald. Confession, I actually used to like him. But then I saw the way he treated people, how someone’s looks were his first target. Or their intellect. And before you tell me not to listen to the fake news, I encourage you to scroll through his tweets. I now see the same pathetic qualities in him that I did of the douche-canoe guys standing in front of those lockers. A person who is so insecure that in order to make himself look better, he attacks other people.

The exact thing we try to teach our children not to do.

Now he’s president, and I am told over and over that I have to respect him.

But that puts me right back to where I was in high school: two feet away from the bully pretending nothing is wrong. A silent bully again.

And that’s not okay with me. I know the media hasn’t been nice to him and that (in his words) “no politician in history has been treated more unfairly.” Wah. Boo friggin hoo. Hey, man, you get what you give.

He ran a platform of being politically incorrect, and the masses fell at his angry feet. They cheered and chanted and promoted his bad behavior even when he (on multiple occasions) applauded and encouraged violence. And they continue to do so. Until someone is mean to him. Then “everybody should be nice.” Except for him. This is bully mentality y’all. Plain and simple.

Do as I say not as I do. Be nice to me but not to them. Laugh when I say laugh. Cry when I say cry. Cheer when I say cheer.  Make me feel good. Tell me how amazing I am. Listen to me when I cheer for myself. Tell me I’m the best. But by God, don’t you dare say anything negative about me, or I will retaliate.

(I just went to twitter to see if I could find a mean tweet to imbed in this, and THIS IS THE FIRST TWEET ON HIS FEED!!!!!)


I know he’s trying to appeal to a different audience. Maybe he’s even trying to be funny. So is every single bully out there. It’s pathetic, and it’s ignorant. It isn’t presidential. It isn’t modern day presidential. It is infantile, and it is a poor example for us, for our country, for humanity.

Do better, Donald Trump. Do better, America. Don’t be the kids two feet from the bully. Stick up for what is right. We cannot stand back and tolerate something that we wouldn’t allow our children to do.

PS: He did a couple of pretty good things this week in regards to ISIS (hopefully) and veterans, but the media isn’t covering it because Donald Trump is too busy attacking CNN and a couple of journalists, which of course, is getting lots of coverage. Bully mentality y’all. Ego ego ego.

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