Lenore Skomal: Bullies hone hurtful ways at home

My 7-year-old nephew rode the pink and white horse on the carousel and was tormented for it. That's right. Bullied because he rode a "girl's" horse. Don't those kids know that it takes a real boy to like pink?

Here's the question of the day: Who assigned gender identification to colors?

The Smithsonian did its own research into the topic of pink and blue and found that before World War I, the colors were actually reversed. A June 1918 article from a trade publication wrote: "The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl."

And wasn't I thrilled to find out that my nephew was right, after all.

The color switch happened in the 1940s, when manufacturers swapped the gender assignment to not reinforce a stereotype based on color. Well that backfired.

But the stupidity of teasing someone because of color preference goes beyond the pale and infuriates me. To be completely honest, we were raised in our family to defend the underdog. My older brother, now a federal judge, was particularly adept at whipping the tar out of anyone who harassed the defenseless.

As a result, we hate bullies. We especially hate stupid bullies, who don't have a factual leg to stand on. If my nephew hadn't been so intimidated, he would have been able to throw the true story back in their laughing brat faces. But instead, he cried. And his mother, my sister, intervened with a vengeance.

As it is with these things, she went right to the source. No, not the kids who brutalized her child -- their mothers. For a while my brother believed in beating the snot out of the perpetrators on those asphalt school yards decades ago, but things have changed. We now know that kids are products of their home environments.

What I have learned is that no parent will admit she's raised a Brutus. Not willingly. Feigned shock is the first response, followed by a bumbling of excuses and then finally a thin promise that a stern tongue-lashing will be meted out. Of course, no one knows if that actually occurs.

Suffice it to say that my sister has exacted justice. And whether or not a good playground beating would have worked equally as well -- well, that's a horse of a different color.




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