What would you say if someone asked you what type of person you want to be and gave you three choices: being a bully, being the one being bullied or being the bystander (the one who just stands by and watches everything happening)?

And, yes, ladies and gentleman, that’s what I want to talk to you about this week. I was once again on one of my many trips into the magazine section at Shoprite, when I saw this question displayed on a magazine there. I’m pretty sure anyone walking by while I was standing there would have wondered why I was smiling to myself with a women’s magazine in hand.

The truth is that seeing the article made me think back to my own days as a scared little kid in grade 6, wearing an over-sized jacket and funny-looking shoes. I remembered going to school every day wishing for all the other boys to leave me alone. I wanted to be invisible, but instead I got the spotlight. All the focus of the bullies got directed onto me. On the one morning I’d be forced to do their homework or sit next to them during a test and give answers. On another day they’d take my lunch or my lunch money. On all those days I never felt brave enough to report them. I suffered in silence.

Looking back now a part of me is still angry that I had to go through that, but another part of me laughs at the whole situation. The sad part about going through all that drama is that I almost permanently lost myself and became a different person. When I got to high school I started to hang out with the same guys that were bullying me, because I was desperate for friends. For a while I had some power and became a bit of a bully to anyone I believed was weaker than me. I almost forgot that even though my mother always encouraged me to be strong and not to show people my weaknesses (especially my physical ones), she also told me that a caring heart is never a bad thing.

So what made me remember that I was a good guy, and not a bully?

Well, I was just not good at bullying. I’d get teased during the first half of break-time, and then spend the next half trying to shift all the attention from me to anyone else who was weaker than me. But the problem is that whenever someone else would get teased I’d feel bad for them.

In the end I just settled for being a bystander. I decided to stop hanging out with all the guys that were bullying me. In primary school I’d tried to be invisible and just hang alone, but it hadn’t worked. High school was a little different in that no one would chase you around the school to try and bully you so it was possible to hang out alone. It was risky, yes, but possible.

The problem, though, is that being a bystander means you just try to be invisible and do nothing to help others. And that’s also not good. During break-time I’d go and sit at the front of the school, because I believed that I was better off sitting alone, away from all the nonsense.

In matric, though, things changed again. I started caring again. I knew I wasn’t a superhero so I wasn’t going to run around the school breaking up fights or beating up bullies, but something had to be done. So I asked myself what my power was.

The answer was: I was admired for my brains. I was different. I was that black Xhosa boy who was number one in Afrikaans, liked by all the teachers – black, white and coloured teachers. That was my power. So throughout matric year I campaigned for changes to be made. We started making prayers and speeches during the school assembly, thanking teachers for their good work and encouraging them to stay at the school.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is the choice I made. I’m not a bully. I’m not being bullied. Nor am I a bystander. I’ve realised that there is a fourth option: sometimes I can be Sicelo the brave!

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#Chatback: Are you a bully or a bystander?

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