The media aftermath following some disparaging remarks made by former radio host Don Imus about Rutgers University girls’ basketball team was the focus of my column last week. Centering on the “Huge Deal” made by broadcast media when a public figure does something off the wall, I wrote my column with the sense that the frantic broadcasting blitz generated by the Imus incident would be completely wiped away with the next major news event, which isn’t a huge leap in logic given the number of times this pattern is repeated by the media. That major story came a lot sooner than I thought, and the insight nudging the back of my mind that Imus’ name would fall completely off the radar screen turned out to be true as we learned about the heartbreaking events that took place in Virginia.
Along with April 19 (1995, the date of the Oklahoma City bombing) and April 20 (1999, the Columbine massacre), April 16 became yet another spring day we’ll remember with sorrow. A season normally associated with re-growth and a new beginning is tainted again with tragedy caused by the senseless taking of still more innocent lives.
Predictably saturating the airwaves last week were suppositions, speculations and recriminations about the latest school massacre. By Wednesday, the world was subjected to the awful “manifesto” the shooter sent to NBC on the day of the killings at Virginia Tech. Major networks revealed its sordid contents on a seemingly endless loop as we witnessed the disturbing images and diatribe recorded by the student who went on a murderous rampage before ending his own life.
Occasionally the networks were taken to task for the repeated airing of this multi-media communication from the killer. Copy cat shootings are a real and frightening possibility, and setting the stage for other sick individuals to act out in this manner is unthinkable. In addition, families of the victims as well as survivors at Virginia Tech were exposed to what must have been an unbearable account of what their friends and loved ones faced during the last moments of their lives.
The student shooter, like the Columbine killers before him, alluded to being oppressed and bullied by his peers. Some experts said his rantings hint of physical or sexual abuse. Coming to the U.S. from South Korea at the age of eight, he’d had several years to develop the personality that eventually evolved into the hate-filled individual who coldly and calculatingly purchased two weapons he would later bring inside what should have been a safe place of higher learning where he mercilessly cut short the lives of so many promising students and gifted professors.
Threaded through the endless airplay came the inevitable demands: How could the university have handled this better? Should they have notified students of the first shootings? How about campus security? What did the police do wrong? Is this about gun control? Why wasn’t this student expelled or suspended or forced into treatment when it became clear he was so troubled? In short: where can we place the blame for this horrific event?
In my non-expert opinion, I believe we witnessed the culmination of many years of problems and abuse that ultimately erupted in violence. This disturbed individual didn’t just spring from the woodwork as an outcast – I think he was probably teetering on the edge of insanity when he entered the university. Other students described him as a “loner,” “strange,” “bizarre.” And some kids who are different from the “norm” can’t handle the ostracizing experience of being shunned by their peers. Compounded over years, the hostility builds.
My younger brother was also “different.” In the era when my brother grew up, parents rarely sought psychological help; mental illness was a stigma that brought shame upon a family. But he was forever in trouble at school for his constantly disruptive, hyperactive, temperamental outbursts. He had few friends. Those that knew him then would probably have described him as a “loner,” “strange,” “bizarre,” words characterizing last week’s shooter. My brother was teased mercilessly, and he got into a few fistfights with those that bullied him. He never married, never even had a date that I’m aware of. Even so he grew to adulthood and served in the military without resorting to violence as he dealt with being different.
My brother found other ways to cope. He sought therapy on his own, and he is a published, albeit, untrained writer. His writings are unconventional. Recently we conversed about that via e-mail. Here is what he wrote to me a short time ago: “I tend to write fantasy stuff because me and the real world never did quite get along.” That, to me, speaks volumes.
Seeing how a little kid, my brother, was hurt by taunts and teasing from his peers, I wonder if stopping that hurtfulness in the earliest stages of a child’s development might curb another, more vulnerable child’s increasingly violent behavior, which is one way of expressing all that pain. Can we teach our kids to respect and be kind to everybody regardless of who they are? Can we sit down with our kids and let them know we won’t condone cruel words or actions toward others? Can we tell them that people, like the beautiful flowers of spring, are not all alike but deserve our appreciation just the same? Could they watch us as parents treat others with kindness and consideration? Can we teach children that helping others feel better about themselves makes them feel better, too? How will they know that if we don’t at least try?
They say a child is like a blank slate. What if we wrote on those slates worthwhile teachings that enable them to reach out to kids who are different from themselves and treat them with thoughtfulness and compassion? Endeavoring to do these small things certainly couldn’t hurt and who knows? Maybe a few caring words and some gentleness could turn the tide. Even if it was only once, wouldn’t it be worth it?
Gale Hammond is a 23-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at Ga*********@*ol.com.
