Odd Girl Out Page 2

  It was exhausting. My carefully organized list of research questions grew stale in my hand.

  Not a single one of my group discussions that day went according to plan. This, it turned out, was a good thing. I quickly understood that trying to box the girls' voices into my prearranged questions would make them think I was an authority figure, and this was the last thing I wanted to be. I wanted them to be the authorities. After all, they were living what I was trying to understand. It wasn't a tactic so much as an instinct.

  The girls responded in kind. Over the months that followed, we traded e-mail and instant message handles, talked about music groups, new shoes, summer plans, and crushes. They showed and told me things their teachers and parents couldn't know about. We sometimes strayed from the topic at hand to talk about the pressures of school and family.

  Over time, however, I realized there was another reason for the ease we felt with one another. Most people who talk to kids about bullying approach the issue with the same message: Don't do it. Be nice to each other.

  I came from the opposite place. My assumption was not that the girls ought not to be mean, but that they were; not that they should be nice, but that they weren't. I was there not to stop them, but because I wanted them to help other girls find a way to deal with it. If they wanted to participate in the group discussion, fine; if they didn't, they had to sit quietly and they couldn't bother the ones who did. Either way, I told them, they'd get a free snack out of it.

  More often than not during the sessions, a girl would tell her own story of victimization. She might begin by replying to one of her classmates' remarks, and then, as though taken by surprise, slide into a slow, tearful remembering of her pain. Although I knew I was in the classrooms only to conduct research, I was overwhelmed by feelings of protectiveness toward these girls.

  For this reason, I adhered to an informal discussion format, going with the girls where they wanted to go. Like the women I met on the Internet, many of the girls had never been asked about this part of their lives. Like me, they seemed to feel that they were all alone, the only ones to have gone through this. I met their sadness at the level of my own. They had chosen me to hear their stories, and I wanted to honor their voices. I also wanted them to realize it happened to me and plenty of others. It felt inhumane to move over and through their pain and on to the next question on the list. Sometimes I got through all my questions, sometimes I didn't. If my work suffers in any way, the responsibility is mine, and it's one I am happy to take.

  During this period, I was guided by the work of psychologists Lyn Mikel Brown and Carol Gilligan, to whose pioneering research with girls I owe a huge intellectual debt. With a group of colleagues, Brown and Gilligan developed a "Listening Guide" to use in their interviews.3 The method emphasizes flexibility and harmony with the interview subject, and it discourages orthodox interview protocols. Instead, researchers are to "move where the girls [lead]" them. The method is especially important to girls who might otherwise stay quiet in the presence of an interviewer who appears to have an agenda. Staying with the girls' voices, rather than emphasizing one's own, "can help girls to develop, to hold on to, or to recover knowledge about themselves, their feelings, and their desires," according to Brown and Gilligan. "Taking girls seriously encourages them to take their own thoughts, feelings, and experience seriously, to maintain this knowledge, and even to uncover knowledge that has become lost to them." With such an emotional issue as girls' bullying, this seemed more than appropriate.

  As I sought out more schools to work with, I got mixed responses from administrators. Most were relieved to have me talk with their students. Staff had been mystified by the intensity of the girls' anger toward one another. They were bewildered and overwhelmed by the episodes unfolding around them.

  The smaller towns and some private schools were less welcoming. Their refusal to grant me access, though never explained, seemed to me a sign of anxiety that the truth would be discovered about their girls: that yes, indeed, they were capable of being mean. In a society raising girls to be loving and "nice," this was no small exposure.

  Because of the sensitive nature of the discussions, I made another decision. To get a comprehensive account of the problem of girl bullying, I had originally planned to travel to as many different cities as I could. After a few intensive sessions with the girls, I knew this would be impossible. To earn their trust, and the faith of their teachers and parents, I would need to become a part of their communities. For this reason I chose to stay in three parts of the country for extended periods. I was rewarded with almost unconditional access and support by many of my host schools. Two schools even reversed their policy of not permitting researchers on campus to allow me to work with their girls.

  In exchange for their generosity, I promised to change the names of the girls, staff members, and schools. Other than giving an economic and racial profile, I use very few details to describe each school. I worked with a total of ten over a period of one year. In a major middle-Atlantic city, I visited three schools: the Linden School, a private school with mostly middle-class students, 25 percent of whom are minority; Marymount, a private all-girls school with a predominantly middle-class population and about 20 percent students of color; and Sackler Day School, a suburban middle-class Jewish day school. In a second Northeastern city, I visited Clara Barton High School, an alternative high school, and Martin Luther King Elementary; both schools had predominantly black, Puerto Rican, and Dominican populations. I also worked at the Arden School, a laboratory school with a mostly middle-class population that is 20 percent minority, and Sojourner Truth, an all-girls school with a majority black and Latina student body. Finally, I spent several weeks visiting the elementary, middle, and high schools in Ridgewood, a small town in northeast Mississippi.

  At each school, I conducted group and individual interviews with students and interested staff and parents. At some schools, interviews took as many as three or four hours. At other schools, where time for the interviews was more limited, the meetings were shorter. At two of the urban schools, I struggled to connect with some students and parents. The families were mostly poor, and some did not have telephones, although I am sure my presence as a white, middle-class woman deterred an unknown number of others. Some students and parents expressed interest, then did not return my call or meet me at the appointed time. At every school I was disappointed, though not surprised, to find no parent willing to discuss a daughter who bullied.

  In addition to girls and their parents, I interviewed approximately fifty adult women by phone and in person. I include their stories because time and therapy have given them broader, more nuanced perspectives on their ordeals. Their voices present a marked contrast to the stories of young targets and bullies.

  Although I sought guidance from the methods of Brown and Gilligan, this book is not the product of a formal research experiment. In it you will not find statistics or scientific conclusions about girls and aggression or information about boys. Few would argue that boys have access to a wide range of ways to express their anger. Many girls, on the other hand, are forced to cut themselves off from direct aggression altogether.

  Odd Girl Out is the first book devoted exclusively to girls and nonphysical conflict, and it tells the stories of aggressors and targets of what I call "alternative," or unconventional, aggressions.

  In no way do I want to imply that only girls behave in these ways. Boys most definitely engage in alternative aggressions, though reportedly at later stages of childhood than girls. Nor am I suggesting that all girls do it. Although I set out to map the hidden culture of girls' aggression, it was always clear to me that not all white, middle-class girls lock conflict out of their relationships. Overwhelmed by what I was discovering, I neglected to talk with more girls who do feel comfortable with anger and conflict. I regret that.

  I will use the term "girl bullying" throughout the book to refer to acts of alternative aggression. Yet I am arguing not that girls feel an
gry in fundamentally different ways than boys, but that many girls appear to show anger differently. Girls' aggression may be covert and relational; it may indeed be fueled at times by a fear of loss or isolation. That does not mean, however, that girls do not want power or feel aggression as passionately as their male peers.

  In their important book Best Friends, Worst Enemies: Understanding the Social Lives of Children, Michael Thompson and colleagues point out that every child wants three things out of life: connection, recognition, and power. The desire for connection propels children into friendship, while the need for recognition and power ignites competition and conflict. My point is that if all children desire these things, they will come to them, and into learning how to acquire them, on the culture's terms, that is, by the rules of how girls and boys are supposed to behave.

  When I began this journey three years ago, I wanted to write so that other bullied girls would know they were not alone. As I spent more and more time with the girls, I realized I was also writing to know that I was not alone. I would soon discover that the bullying I endured in third grade was only the tip of the iceberg. I discovered that I harbored pain and confusion over many relationships in my childhood.

  Around the circles of girls I met with, I could see I wasn't the only one who felt this way. The knowledge that we shared similar memories and feelings, that someone else understood what we had previously held inside, was amazing. The relief was palpable, and it opened unexpected doors that we were able to enter together. If we began the journey at the memory of bullying, we ended up asking, and answering, more questions about the culture we live in, about how girls treat each other, and even about ourselves than we had ever thought to imagine alone.

  When Odd Girl Out was first published, the little research that existed on alternative aggressions was buried in academic journals. It went unnoticed in the media frenzy over school shootings. Public commentary continues to suggest that bullying is most dangerous between boys or when it culminates in physical violence. In chapter one, "The Hidden Culture of Aggression in Girls," I explore what may be unique about girls' aggression and analyze school attitudes toward girl bullying.

  This chapter also examines the phenomenon of covert aggression between girls. A great deal of girls' anger flows quietly beneath the radar of teachers, guidance counselors, and parents. It is not, as one woman told me, "something you find in your child's drawer." Girls, ever respectful, tend to aggress quietly. They flash looks, pass notes, and spread rumors. Their actions, though sometimes physical, are typically more psychological and thus invisible to even an observant classroom eye. There is the note that is slipped into a desk; the eyes that catch, narrow, and withdraw; the lunch table that suddenly has no room. Girls talk to me in this chapter about how and why they act in secret.

  The barbs of a girl bully go unnoticed when they are hidden beneath the facade of friendship. In chapter two, "Intimate Enemies," I explore dynamics of bullying and emotional abuse between close friends. The importance of relationship and connection in girls' lives, along with the fear of solitude, leads many of them to hold on to destructive friendships, even at the expense of their emotional safety. Aggressors, on the other hand, are hurting the close friends they appear to love.

  Although I set out to understand severe episodes of bullying between girls, I quickly discovered that everyday episodes of conflict can be just as harrowing. In chapter three, "The Truth Hurts," girls answer the question, "When you are angry or upset with someone, do you tell them about it?" They unpack their fears of direct conflict with one another and explore the indirect acts they choose instead. Girls dissect the politics of how and why they gang up on each other. They explore how repressing anger and avoiding confrontation can lead to disastrous consequences.

  Some of these disasters are now digital. Social media, such as e-mail, online chat, and texting, offer the perfect alternatives to the direct conflict so many girls disdain. Cyberbullying has become vicious and wide-ranging, while girls have become virtual addicts to their gadgets in the drive to stay connected to their friends. In chapter four, "BFF 2.0," I lead readers through the sprawling landscape of girls' digital relationships and report on the unique challenges of these new communication channels.

  Of all the insults girls can hurl at each other, one of the worst is getting called a girl who thinks "she's all that." In the chapter of the same name, I ask girls why they can't stand it when someone appears conceited or full of herself. If this is indeed the age of girl power, why would someone else's success bother them? The girls open up about why they keep jealousy and competition secret from one another, and along the way introduce me to a code they use to communicate uncomfortable feelings.

  I count myself among the many women and girls who have demonized the girl bullies in their lives. At some point, I began to wonder what it would be like to see Abby today, and I imagined the questions I might ask her. In chapter six, "The Bully in the Mirror," several former and current bullies talk about why they hurt and betrayed their friends. Listening to their stories, I consider my own past, wondering why so many of us are quick to separate ourselves from the "mean girls," and how this may affect our ability to address the problem of girl bullying.

  The culture's socialization of girls as caretakers teaches them they will be valued for their relationships with others. In chapter seven, "Popular," I challenge some of the current research on what makes girls popular. In particular, I look at how the politics of girls' relationships can lead to mistreatment and aggression. I explore why some girls may be nice in private but mean in public and why other girls simply abandon their friends.

  Not all girls avoid conflict. Aggression may be biological, but the face of anger is learned. Although I found alternative aggressions most severe among white, middle-class girls, I spent time in other communities where assertiveness and direct conflict are valued in girls. In "Resistance," I explore the history and practice of direct conflict and truth telling in African American, Latino, and working-class communities. Although girls from these specific communities are at the center of this chapter, the reader should not take this as a sign of their exclusion from others. Odd Girl Out focuses on life under rules of feminine restraint that all but refuse girls open acts of conflict. Those girls are primarily, but certainly not only, white and middle class.

  The attention shown targets and aggressors of bullying often means the situation parents face is overlooked. Parents and guardians of targets harbor intense feelings of shame and helplessness, yet they are as isolated from one another as their daughters. Often they can only watch as their daughters come home crying day after day. Called at work because of a stomachache that doesn't exist or watching their girl's increasing isolation, they are embarrassed that their child is scorned. Some blame themselves, while others are angry at their daughter's passivity. Girls, if they confide the problem, often beg their parents not to intervene, fearing retribution.

  In chapter nine, I explore how parents find themselves thrust into a world not unlike their daughters'. They want to help their children but fear making things worse. They are first torn, then muzzled, by their own confused feelings. Even as they struggle to help their child, they fear confrontation with another parent. Some choose to wait for the problem to pass or the phase to end.

  When it's time for action, read chapter ten. "Helping Her Through Drama, Bullying, and Everything in Between" has my answers to the most pressing questions parents have asked me over the last decade. You will get my best thinking on what to say, how to say it, and the optimal course of action. You will also hear the voices of women and girls who told me what they wished their parents had done to make their lives easier during their ordeal—and why so many of them refused to tell their parents the truth.

  When should your daughter get a Facebook account or cell phone? What kinds of limits should you set on use, and how do you talk to her about technology? For the answers, see chapter eleven, "Raising Girls in a Digital Age." Readers will lea
rn what every parent of a girl should know about safe, ethical, and responsible use of social media.

  Over the last decade, I have spent countless hours with educators and administrators—indeed, I have become a teacher myself. We work on the frontlines of the battle to end bullying. It is a complex and confusing war to wage. In chapter twelve, "The Road Ahead for Educators and Administrators," I share effective intervention and prevention strategies for classroom teachers and school leaders.

  Are girls' problems with conflict confined to friendship and bullying? In the conclusion, I visit girls at a leadership workshop and discover unexpected parallels between their identities as girlfriends and girl leaders. Remembering the girls of chapter two, I explore links between girls' behavior in abusive friendships and the trauma of relationship violence. Finally, I consider the loss of self-esteem that besets girls around adolescence. Since alternative aggressions explode between girls around this time, I suggest potential connections between the two.

  Because I wanted the girls to feel comfortable saying anything, teachers almost never joined my interview sessions. At one woman's insistence, I allowed her to sit in the back of a classroom I was visiting. Thirty minutes into a lively discussion about the ways girls are mean to each other, she was sitting stiffly, her face tightening in anger. Finally, she raised her hand.

  "You know," she said, "not all girls are mean. Girls are wonderful! Women are the most important friends you'll ever have, and I don't think it's fair to talk only about the bad parts of girls." Although I could not agree with her more, the remark haunted me. It would be a grave mistake for the reader to interpret this book as a condemnation of girls and women. Nothing could be further from the truth.