I had a post prepared and ready to go this morning but then I read this over at Alpha Game and my schedule immediately changed. This one hit me hard. Not in an emotional way, nothing silly like that. It hit me in a way that I knew exactly where this kid was at as I had been there before at almost the exact age.
A heartbroken mother has penned an emotional post after no one turned up to her little boy’s ninth birthday party.
That is a quote from Vox’s link to the Daily Mail. There are also photos of this kid standing by his birthday balloons with a painful smile for the camera. Vox then had this to say:
Furthermore, note the way that the mother appears to be overbearing. She certainly doesn’t hesitate to ensure that his humiliation will last forever on the internet, all so she can vent her personal outrage …
If you see a boy with a face like that, encourage his parents to get him into contact sports and physical challenges to raise his testosterone levels and his social status ASAFP.
I know exactly what the woman in this story is like. She is a replica of my own mother. When I was ten I was bullied a lot at school. I didn’t know how to fight back because my father had never taught me. It went on for a long time but eventually it got too much for me and I made the terrible mistake of divulging what was happening to my parents.
The next day my mother marched me into the school, one of the top private boys schools in the city, and she went to town on the teachers, the principles, and the instigators of the bullying. She was like a whirlwind. It went on for the entire morning and the school faculty was in complete panic. Through it all I sat with the dreadful knowledge that this was not going to end well.
The next day I ate lunch by myself in the playground. And every lunch after that for the next two years until I eventually enrolled myself in the local government high school without my parents’ knowledge. I was twelve when I did that. I knew that the situation was unrecoverable and that I needed a fresh start.
All the while my mother boasted to anyone and everyone how she had gone into that school and given them what for. She dismissed any protestation that I made as to the effect of her actions on me. It was simply irrelevant as far as she was concerned. She had been the all conquering hero and I was an ungrateful little snot for not appreciating all that she had done for me. Thank God there was no internet in those days.
Then when I was thirteen my father discovered the sport of whitewater kayaking and introduced me to it. Hard physical activity combined with danger. But above all kayaking is a one man show. It’s you against the river. There is nowhere to hide. I became good at it. Every weekend we’d go kayaking with a bunch of other families. Often we’d camp overnight. There were adults as well as young people my own age. I learned how to interact in a grown up world. I learned what was acceptable behavior and what was not. I began to learn what it was to be a man.
Most of all I was saved from becoming an SJW. But the saving took two directions. The physical activity saved me but there was something else as well. My mother’s behavior was so awful that even I at a very young age could recognize it, and her continual insistence that she had done nothing wrong only opened my eyes further to an awful truth:
My parents could be wrong.
This set me on a path of questioning everything. By my mid teens I was a confirmed contrarian. I tortured my teachers at school by continually questioning the validity of their social engineering masquerading as teaching. I recognized the danger of group think and it was this that caused me to forgo university while all my peers were following the dutiful trail that our teachers and parents had told us we had to do if we were going to make it in this world.
So there is hope for this kid. But he has to want it. He has to succumb to the painful reality of opening his eyes. And he needs to get out there and get good at something physical. Like kayaking.