The Silent Killer

Bullying is the number one problem in our school, according to the students. My previous blog on suicide led me to naturally think more carefully about bullying. Actually, suicide, bullying, sexual and alcohol abuse are all very closely linked here. It’s difficult to talk about one without mentioning others.

One female student in my class has a brother who is currently incarcerated for raping the sister of another student. When the rapist’s sister transferred to our school at the beginning of the second semester, bullying ensued. I did not witness it, but was told by an administrator that it was going on. The girl who had been raped had moved to a neighboring village.

Rumor has it that some students don’t even play on the sports teams because of the bullying involved.

So, how does the school deal with it? Student Council puts up posters that define bullying as name-calling and physical confrontation. To be frank, I have never seen that at our school in Kwethluk, though I have seen it first-hand at every other school in which I’ve taught. So, what’s the big deal? There is no obvious bullying going on. How bad can it be? Well, the students being bullied claim that they are being looked at in a bad way by the perpetrators. Huh?

As strange as it may sound, this is the most insidious, deadly type of bullying. Bullying here defies the untrained eye. One must look closely, very closely. The Yupik culture is a lot about facial expressions with less emphasis placed on oral language. Therefore, it only makes sense that bullying in this culture would follow the same precept. Here is what bullying looks like in Kwethluk – a harsh look (furrowed eyebrows), a shoulder turned away, silence. That’s enough. It’s bullying at its peak – complete isolation, even shunning, of the victim with no evidence for the victim to report. In an isolated village in the middle of the Alaskan tundra, could there be a worse feeling that that of complete and utter separation from the few people in this remote location? The animosity that the victim feels all around them becomes unbearable. The looks come from every direction, looks filled with hate and disgust, pursed lips and glaring, dark eyes. People who once spoke to them freely now seem to carefully choose their words and speak only when absolute need arises. Shoulders are turned away from the victim as they walk past, along with a sharp glance.

That kind of treatment would reduce most adults to tears. Imagine what it does to a 16-year-old. There is no escape. Well, sadly some do find the escape hatch.

How do I know what this feels like? Ever since I sent Sarah back to Homer a month ago to finish out the school year, I’ve encountered those looks, those shoulders, that silence. Whenever locals ask me about Sarah and I tell them that I sent her back to Homer, they immediately look at me like I’m the devil. Their entire countenance changes from inquisitive to accusing. Their one world reply is, “Oh,” and that’s all they say. No one asks why she went back or if she’s doing okay. Truthfully, I’m glad they don’t ask, but I still find it odd.

Last Monday, teaching contracts were passed out for next year. Teachers have 30 days to sign the contract, committing to come back to this school to teach for another year. I will not be signing mine. I have had a few people ask me if I’m coming back next year and when I tell them that I’m not, I get the devil look. They look at me as if I’m a traitor. Some ask if I’m going back to Homer and I tell them that I am. That’s all they ask. From then on, I’m shunned. It’s truly the strangest thing that I’ve every experienced. I’ve never lived anywhere where when you tell people you are moving, they treat you like a traitor. It’s almost cult-like. This place has more social problems than I would have ever imagined about a community that is part of the United States of America. Yet, should someone choose to leave the community, leave behind the social problems in search of a better quality of life, they are immediately labeled as a traitor and treated as such. To say that it’s bizarre is an understatement.

So, for my first seven months out here, I was simply ignored. Now, I’m obviously disliked, even avoided by some. I guess I should have just been a good Gussack and kept my mouth shut – not spoken out about the social ills that exist here, not searched for solutions, not offered to help.

Now, I get it. It’s an insight that I never would have gotten had I not been a part of it. I get the bullying issue here. I get the overwhelming depression and feelings of helplessness that sweep over the victim. I get the extreme feelings of loneliness and the total throwing of hands up in the air saying, “I give up!” Only, I’m not giving up by taking my life out of this world. I’ll take my life and go back to Homer - beautiful, friendly, civilized Homer.

Meanwhile, I’ll leave a piece of my heart out here for those who didn’t have the option that I did of leaving. For those victims of bullying, I will not be silenced.