By: Renee Nal | New Zeal
There is a famous story in my family about how my mother was bullied as a child. When she was in fourth grade, my mother would come home from school and cry to her mother, my grandmother, that another little girl was picking on her in the schoolyard. My grandmother, who I refer to as “Nanny,” would explain patiently to my mom that she should turn the other cheek. “It is unbecoming for little girls to fight,” she would say. “Ignore her and she will go away,” my Nanny instructed.
As she did at the time, Nanny walked my mother to school and one particular morning she lingered as her little girl left her side to dash into the schoolyard. Shortly after their separation, another little girl, much larger than my mother, raced toward my mom and pushed her so hard that mom, in her new dress, fell over in the dirt.