Yep. I was unable to defend myself from bullies all my life. Something in my brain would just do the math and decide it made more sense to ride it out and live to hide another day. Of course, I always felt like crap about myself afterwards, no matter how little sense it would have made to strike out against a group of 3 - 5 tough guys with nothing to lose.
Then, one day on the way home after high school, one of the neighborhood bullies came up and asked if I was Mike Gitchel (my younger brother's name). Mike had apparently crossed somebody and was due a session with this thug and his buddies.
I don't know what came over me, but I flashed livid. Perhaps all the mathematicians in my head all looked at each other and said, "I thought YOU were in charge of the 'Injury in Defense of Others' calculations!" I just looked him in the eye (very aggressive act for an Aspie ) and said "Yeah!" as strongly as I could. He punched me in the face.
Then, though I remember very little, I apparently fought back. Not very well, of course, but with great energy and violence. My fervor seemed to frighten the bully badly, and he changed his mind about fighting. Instead, he grabbed my hair and held my head to the ground with all his weight, calling out for someone to get me off him. I was lashing out at any part of him I could reach, which wasn't much. And my head hurt, which made me even more cross.
Then there was an ugly scene involving my mother, who had seen this all from the kitchen window and came up, in her worn blue robe, with a convenient fence picket in her hand. Was she there to stop the fight? Not exactly. She kept yelling out to the other thugs, "One at a time! One at a time!" and waving the board at them. I guess she didn't want to be seen as interfering in a young man's battles, but wanted it to be “fair.” I suppose I'm grateful for that, but it did occur to me she might have just stayed home.
Still, there were at least three other bullies there, though they really didn't seem eager to touch me. I guess I'm glad her mental mathematicians worked it out that way. Besides, I think she treated me with just a bit more deference after that.
I don’t remember how it ended. I suspect we cut a deal where he let go of my hair and I don’t kill him. I do remember that headache being around for a while. I think I had a black eye, too. I vaguely remember something to do with raw meat.
I have no recollection of my brother getting his thumping later. I think they left him alone. Perhaps they still, to this day, think it was him they accosted that day. That's fine with me.
I also have no recollection of my brother saying "Thank you," though he is also an Autistic and possibly didn't understand what was appropriate. I'm not sure either of us saw it as a gift anyway.
The interesting thing about this whole question is that I realized - while reliving that moment - that I still get flashes of that anger when I see injustices done to others. I've been feeling that way a lot these last several years.
Perhaps that's why I have started to come out of my social comfort zone and take up advocacy. I can think of no other motivation that would make me volunteer for committees or to stand in front of strangers and talk at length.
It's nice to think that thuggery has its other side: that someone's life might improve a tiny bit because of - or in spite of - a bully’s effort to cause pain.
Last edited by gitchel on 06 May 2008, 10:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.