When Bullies Punch Down, I Punch Back (and Why I’m Done Being Quiet)
I hate bullies. I hate them with a passion. Not in a casual, eye-roll way. I mean a deep, lived-in dislike that comes from decades of being on the receiving end of their cruelty.
I was born with a lazy eye, clinically known as strabismus. It is part of my body. It is part of my face. It is something I did not choose and cannot control. And for as long as I can remember, it has been an open invitation for strangers, classmates, and now internet randos to say something slick, “funny,” or outright cruel.
If you have ever been bullied for your appearance, your body, your condition, your disability, your neurodivergence, your accent, or simply for existing a little outside the norm, you already know this story. It starts young. It hurts deeply. And at first, it makes you cry.
I cried. A lot.
But at some point, crying stopped working.
The moment anger replaced shame
There was a turning point in my childhood where sadness hardened into anger. Not the kind of anger that destroys you from the inside, but the kind that wakes you up. The kind that says, “No. I am not the problem here.”
Bullies taught me several things, whether they meant to or not.
They taught me that bullies are scared human beings.
They taught me that bullies suffer deeply.
They taught me that bullies will grab onto anything they perceive as smaller, different, or vulnerable so they can punch down and feel powerful for five fleeting seconds.
I am not offering some groundbreaking psychological insight here. We have all heard it before. Hurt people hurt people.
But here is where I draw the line.
I refuse to be hurt by hurt people.
Once I understood how deeply insecure bullies actually are, something shifted in me. I stopped internalizing their words. I stopped assuming they were right. And I started talking back.
Why I stopped being polite about my pain
When someone is bold enough to comment on my body, my eye, or my condition, something I cannot change, then they have forfeited my politeness.
That realization is how I survived that part of my childhood.
I matched their energy.
I named their behavior.
I made it clear I was not ashamed.
Was it always graceful? No.
Was it effective? Absolutely.
Because bullies rely on silence. They rely on you shrinking. They rely on shame doing their work for them.
When you speak up, when you push back, when you show them that their words do not own you, their power evaporates. They are suddenly exposed for what they are: insecure people flailing for control.
Screenshot 1
Online bullies are not different. They are louder.
Fast forward to adulthood, and the setting has changed, but the behavior has not. The playground is now a comment section. The whispers are now public replies. The cruelty is now dressed up as “jokes.”
Recently, I received a comment on one of my videos that leaned on an old, lazy, ableist joke about my eye. The kind of joke that bullies think is clever because they have heard it echoed a thousand times before.
I responded.
Not because I needed validation.
Not because I was hurt.
But because I refuse to be silent.
Online or offline, I will call out nasty behavior when I see it. I will point to it directly and say, “This is what you are doing, and it is not cute.”
This blog post is part of that same refusal.
Where my confidence really came from
I need to say this clearly: I did not get here alone.
I was fortunate. Deeply fortunate.
My grandmother raised me to know there was nothing wrong with me. She did not minimize my pain, but she never let me believe the cruelty I faced was deserved. She taught me that the problem was never my face, my eye, or my existence. The problem was always the people who felt entitled to comment on it.
That foundation matters.
Because when you grow up being told you are whole, you are far less likely to believe people who try to tear you apart.
Thanks to her, I learned how to stand up for myself. I learned how to take up space. I learned how to speak without apologizing for my body.
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The truth bullies do not want you to see
Here is the part that makes bullies uncomfortable.
The joke is never really about you.
The joke is about their emptiness.
People who know and love themselves do not need to mock someone else’s body to feel joy. People who are secure do not punch down. People who are at peace do not need to humiliate others for entertainment.
Ableist jokes are not humor. They are confessions.
They confess fear.
They confess self-loathing.
They confess a desperate need to feel above someone, anyone, for a brief moment.
That is why I can say, without hesitation, that the joke is on him. I know myself. I love myself. And I do not need to tear someone else apart to feel worthy.
Bullies cannot say the same.
If you are being bullied, read this slowly
If you are reading this and you are being bullied right now, I want you to hear this clearly.
The problem is not you existing.
The problem is not your body.
The problem is not your condition.
The problem is not your disability.
The problem is not your difference.
The problem is the bully who cannot stand to see you exist because your existence reminds them of the hatred they carry toward themselves.
You do not owe anyone silence.
You do not owe anyone softness.
You do not owe anyone understanding at the expense of your dignity.
Whether you choose to clap back, block, educate, or walk away, the choice is yours. Power looks different for everyone. What matters is that you do not internalize their cruelty as truth.
You are not too much.
You are not broken.
You are not wrong for taking up space.
And if no one has told you this lately, let me say it plainly.
You deserve to exist loudly, confidently, and unapologetically.
Even when bullies wish you would disappear.
Especially then.
#ableism #bodyShaming #callingOutHarm #ConfidenceBuilding #disabilityAdvocacy #disabilityVisibility #LatinaWriterPerspective #livedExperience #marginalizedVoices #onlineBullying #OnlineHarassment #PersonalEssay #Resilience #selfLove #selfWorth #standingUpForYourself #strabismusAwareness #traumaAndHealing
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