Part of the union

I was bullied at school.

It went on for nearly all of my primary school life and reared its head from time to time when I was at grammar school, although nowhere near as often.

At various times, I was (allegedly): too fat, too posh, had funny teeth, was a Jew (impossible), a witch (maybe), too clever, too stupid, smelt, had bad breath, had the wrong names (Christian and surname), was a teacher’s pet, had a mother who was too old, couldn’t run fast enough (archetypal last child to be picked for any team game, “Miss, do I have to pick HER?”), didn’t sing out of tune like everybody else, supported the wrong football team and had no father, so even though he had died during the time I was at primary school, I was therefore illegitimate.

That was just the verbal abuse. On an almost daily basis, I was kicked, punched, slapped, tripped up, spied on in the toilets, had chairs pulled out from underneath me, had my fingers slammed in desk lids and countless other things that I suspect I have wiped from my memory to give myself a rest.

It went on and on; at primary school it was started in the reception class by one main perpetrator but over time, a number of others joined in for fun, meaning that I often had half-a dozen tormentors.

Bullying at school wasn’t dealt with properly then; in fact, it wasn’t dealt with at all. There was no system, no advocate, no defence; the victim was utterly alone.

At the age of five, I was punched in the head so many times I had nosebleeds, but as my attacker already had the guile to do the deed out of the teacher’s eyesight, there was no proof and I quickly learnt that telling tales made things much, much worse.

I only fought back once, at the age of eleven when the red mist finally came down, resulting in me punching the living daylights out of a boy who had spent four years grinding me down. Carpeted by the headmistress, she pronounced that I had “put up with a lot over the years” and decided not to impose any further sanctions on me.

I endured far less at grammar school but by then was so cowed that I wouldn’t readily speak up for myself and would hide from group activities in case I got picked on again. Luckily to find a small group of oddballs in my year and we formed the rather eccentric group that didn’t like following the crowd. There was safety in that and in addition, I became the typical shy child who was a good performer, standing out in anything musical. I achieved a certain notoriety as an “artiste” and gained some popularity in that way.

I have therefore grown up as a loner in many ways, but paradoxically I actually like people, but I suspect that I like them on “my” terms. If I can entertain them, then I feel at ease, so have exploited the Brummie’s natural desire to be a stand-up comedian. I can’t stand being “just” part of the crowd; I have to lead in some way, or at least be near the top of the pecking order. Realising that I could lead has come to me much later in life, along with confidence.

But that confidence is quite frail and I feel it being eroded. It is therefore quite easy for people to bully me still, I fear – not by outward means as I would quickly rail against that, but undermining and insidiousness damage me quickly; the things that are hard to prove and easy to deny.

I’m aware that this is going on now and this is one of the principal reasons for my unhappiness with the job. The atmosphere of control and unpredictability in itself is wearing, but being made to feel stupid is hurtful beyond words. Sadly, I don’t feel it is worth the hassle to go into direct confrontation over this; there has been so much upheaval over the past year that I am weary of feeling traumatised, so it’s likely I will leave it be, at least for a while.

Standing up for myself is never as appealing as fighting for another person’s rights. I can’t bear to see others fighting adversity alone; they become the frightened child that I was and I am driven to help them – which is why for a long time I have been a trade union official.

Through this, I can achieve all sorts of things; lead others, guide them, be an advocate for them and change things, make a difference. I am not the old-fashioned union rep that thumped on tables in smoky rooms in the 1970s; I am one of the new breed that mediates and negotiates to find a solution. I know I can do this, know that I have sufficient logic and humanity in the right proportions and get an adrenaline rush from doing this sort of work.

Through a rather odd and very sad set of circumstances, I find myself in exactly the same senior position within the union here that I was in my last job. It has been a rather rapid rise to prominence but is the best thing that has happened to me here. As I know I may have a relatively short time here before I move on to something else, I’m particularly driven to doing as much as I possibly can.

I can achieve something, being part of the union.