It didn’t begin the day I found out.
It began weeks before, all so quiet, almost politely like something asking for permission to stay and my niece stopped arguing, playing with the neighbourhood kids, even shielding her face from us when asking questions
That might sound like a small thing, but if you knew her, you’d understand. She was fire, all lightened, questions, laughter, stubborn opinions.
Then suddenly, compliance with statements like “Okay.” “It’s fine.” “I don’t mind.”
Children don’t lose their spark without a reason, we all know this
I remember the exact moment it shifted from maybe to something is wrong.
She came back from school, dropped her bag, and went straight to the bathroom. Not unusual, until I heard the tap running longer than necessary, when she came out, her eyes were dry, too dry. Like she had already cried and cleaned it up before anyone could notice.
That same week, my neighbour’s son stopped playing outside.
At first, I thought he picked up some new interests, maybe video games or studying but one evening, I saw him trying to scrub something off his arm near the gate. Not dirt nor words but faint pen marks containing names, insults, I couldn’t fully make them out.
That was the moment everything connected not a coincidence but some kind of pattern.
I didn’t rush to them immediately, that’s one mistake many adults make we rush in loud, yelling and commanding them to tell us what the problem is and children retreat further. Instead, I created silence the safe kind.
With my niece, it came out in fragments, not a dramatic confession just broken sentences stitched together:
“They laugh when I talk…”
“They hide my things…”
“It’s just jokes…” " we were just playing"
“It’s just jokes.”
That’s how cruelty disguises itself, where bullying hides best
The neighbour’s boy took longer, you know boys are often taught to endure, not express but pain doesn’t disappear because it’s quiet.
One afternoon, I sat beside him not asking, just existing. Eventually, he said, “If I tell, it’ll get worse.” and that's the fear, that grip that the act of bullying is holding unto
That sentence tells you everything about bullying, it thrives on fear and power imbalance.
So how did I do, solve this... Okay, I don't need to come with anger first but with structure.
So i documented patterns, the dates, the changes in behaviour and specific incidents.
Then I engaged the school, not emotionally, but firmly. Schools respond better to clarity than outrage.
But more importantly, I worked on rebuilding what bullying had started to erase their sense of self, the laughter, their confidence, the ease.
We practice eye contact, voice firmness, simple phrases like, “Stop. That’s not okay.” Not because it magically stops bullies but because it reminds the child that, they have a voice.
I also made sure they weren’t isolated anymore, one ally changes everything.
And here’s the uncomfortable truth, sometimes adults underestimate bullying because it doesn’t look like physical violence. But you see psychological bullying? That rewires how a child sees themselves.
If I had my own child, I wouldn’t wait for signs, i'd build openness before problems. I’d ask real questions, not routine ones. Not “How was school?” but “Did anything make you uncomfortable today?” That’s where truth lives.
And if they were a victim? I wouldn’t tell them to ignore it, cause ignoring doesn’t work when the damage is internal. I’d act decisively, involving the school, escalate if necessary, and remove them from environments that repeatedly harm them if need comes to that.
But above all, I’d protect their identity, because bullying’s real damage isn’t the moment, it’s the meaning the child attaches to it.
“Maybe I deserve this.”
“Maybe I’m not enough.”
That’s the lie we must fight hardest and if there’s one thing I’ve learned watching both my niece and that boy it is bullying is rarely loud but its silence is deafening