With this new series, my intention is to help foster and nurture an open and profound bond between father and daughter, one that transcends the awkwardness of puberty. (I wrote about it in more detail here.)
And in that spirit, I’ve agreed that once a week I will answer – honestly – any question my husband puts to me.
So, here’s what hubby has come up with for me this week…
Hubby: I was thinking about a certain situation, and how it was a bit odd last time and maybe we shouldn’t repeat it. Anyway, it made me want to ask you: cliquiness. Seems to be a (mostly) female problem, can you shed any light? In fairness, this seems to happen around you quite a lot, doesn’t it…
Me: Thanks mate. Yes, you’re right – it does. So let’s talk about it.
I can’t tell you too much about it, because honestly, I don’t always understand it. It’s certainly not something I ever wish to be involved in, or want to watch/implicitly be a part of. In my opinion it’s akin to bullying, but with a less juvenile, less inflammatory label. Because it almost suggests a tight group, doesn’t it – and what’s wrong with that?
Well, what’s wrong with it is that, in my experience, it’s a close-knit group to the exclusion of all others, or – often – to the exclusion of one other. And so it does, in fact, amount to the same thing as bullying. Whether by design or by chance, it results in one or many feeling marginalised.
Granted, trying to gain access to an established friendship group can be the equivalent of trying to infiltrate an enemy faction, ie. dangerous territory. You do so at your own risk. I have no idea quite why this is, but few succeed without some battle scars for their troubles. However, the more interesting, less-understood, and arguably less kind situation is when a group comes together at the same time… and then divides.
Let’s be real – cliquey is a pretty way of saying bitchy.
- Friend or Faux: Should You Ditch Your Cliquey ‘Friends’?
- Guest Post: Was I Bullying Him? Yes
- Coward? No – I Was Just Being a Good Mother
What I do know for sure is this: it’s not something I ever choose to remain part of once it’s become an obvious issue. I don’t get it, I don’t like it and I definitely don’t respect it. So the reason I seem to encounter it a lot may be because I refuse to tolerate it – I prefer to walk away than be involved in a destructive ‘friendship’. I think it’s actually quite common, but lots of people simply accept it as the norm. Not me.
If the friendship is worth saving, I will attempt to resolve the conflict. And if it won’t be a great loss and I’ll be happier without the stress, then I’ll simply walk away.
But why do adult women (or men) behave in this way in the first place? Now there’s a question to which I’d dearly love an answer. I have great fears about the prevalence of bullying in schools and I’m intrigued as to how that develops into adulthood:
- Is it most often the bully or the victim who becomes the adult perpetrator?
- What can we do to discourage this behaviour in our children?
- How can we best support them if they are targeted – or, indeed, if they’re a bystander?
I will be coming back to this subject and examining it more closely in due course. I may even find myself an expert to help answer some of these questions.
And in the meantime, one person I would love to speak to is the school bully. Not my school bully; the school bully. If that was you and you’d like to put things right, please contact me to be interviewed (anonymously). There will be no judgement; I’m simply fascinated to discuss your perception of events, and hopefully learn from them.
Like this? You can check out more of my hubby’s ponderings (and my attempts to answer them) here.