On the other hand, when I was about 13 or so, my best friend was hanging around some black guys, which meant I was, too. My dad picked up a baseball bat and ran them off. He came back and said something to the effect that no daughter of his was going to hanging around any blacks. First time I realized that he was prejudiced, and a pretty shocking way to find out.
The only one I remember was when I was 13 and managed to attract a deeply creepy 30-ish stalker who started waiting for me after school. I mentioned it to my mom who told my dad, who showed up for a couple days after scholl to warn him off.
As I wrote that, I just remembered a second one, although I only know a part of the story. When I was about 6 yo, my aunt’s second husband exposed himself to me while visiting us. He didn’t touch me, just opened his pants and pissed on the ground in front of me, making a "game "of it and trying to get me to piss too. What mighthave come of it I don’t know for sure, but he told me not to tell my parents so I told my older sister, who told my mom. Next thing I heard was that my aunt had divorced him and nobody ever talked about Uncle Bob after that. I hope enough was done so that he didn’t get a chance at somebody else’s kids. Weird - I hadn’t thought of that in years. Maybe I’ll ask my mom about it. 40 years should be enough time so she doesn’t freak out about it.
About the only incident I ever remember of my parents protecting me was one day that we were in Las Ramblas in Barcelona; I was 9 and walking last (the crush of people was huge). An “old man” (maybe 40s) who wasn’t much taller than me came up to me offering me money. I remember feeling sad for him, but also that there was absolutely no way I would have gone with him anywhere (now, if he’d offered books…). Dad suddenly came out of nowhere scaring the little guy away and yelling at me.
I didn’t like being yelled at, but I was used to it. Being defended for once in my life (even though I still think there wasn’t really much need) felt kind of nice, though. It still gives me the warm fuzzies, I just wish he’d done it when it really was needed (he usually left things like school relationships to Mom; the worst episodes of sex abuse attempts I’ve suffered have been from a teacher and from her Dad, my Dad never knew about Gramps’ doings).
I don’t remember anything ever actually happening, but I do remember that the one time my father truly frightened me was when he told me that if my sister and I were ever raped (or, in his words, “hurt that way”), he’d be dead or in jail because he’d go after the culprit.
I, um, I love my dad. But that was scary as hell.
My mom was forestalled the one time she might have gone Mama Bear on my behalf, but I kind of would have liked to see it happen. I can just imagine. My fifth grade teacher sent me walking over to the junior high school where my mom was the secretary to get a note excusing my absence from school. I’d been sick for a few days, and then several days went by when I either forgot to take a note or it just didn’t get written in the morning confusion. It was frigidly cold outside and when I got to the junior high I was miserable and couldn’t feel my fingers. Now, my mom had been giving me a ride to school because she didn’t want me out in that cold since I’d been sick.
Her boss, the principal, (who happened to be married to my teacher) gave me a ride back to my school. Mom told me later he did it because he was afraid to let her go over there. I have this small smile at the mental image of her giving that teacher what for.
Don’t know if it fits your criteria, but I had an incident where my son was being bullied at cub scouts. Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that he was/is somewhat different than most boys his age, and when younger he used to get bullied quite a bit.
At this one event I was the only adult in a particular room where I saw a group of kids first tease him, then choke him and slam him into a wall. I rushed over there, and while I did not touch the little shits, I did let them know in no uncertain terms what I thought of them. In my mental state I thought I was exercising considerable restraint by not kicking the shit out of these little 10-year olds.
One of the kids told someone that I had hit him. That and my little tirade got me barred from participation in cub scouts, which I think had subtle implications for my son and the rest of our family.
Erm…when I was (an early-developing, busty) 12-year-old, the 16-year-old brother of some girls I knew tried to rape me. Possibly the word “rape” is much too strong; while he did lure me to their house under false pretenses and then tackle me from behind when my back was to him, wrestling me to the floor, he stopped when I started to cry. I can only assume he thought I’d be up for it.
Anyhoo, he let me go with a stern warning not to tell anyone and I said I wouldn’t, then as soon as I got in the back door burst out crying and told my mom.
Her reaction was interesting, and I didn’t see this until years later. First she wanted my 21-year-old brother to go over and beat the kid up. My brother, who could see the problems in a 21-year-old going after a 16-year-old, tried to talk her into calling the police.
Instead she went over there in an absolute rage and bawled the kid out. Nobody ever called the police and 30 years later I’m not sure my dad was ever even told about it.
Why the heck didn’t she call the police? The only answer I can come up with is that in an emotional state when she wasn’t thinking clearly she reverted back to her own childhood. She was born in Chicago in 1926 and grew up in an ethnic Belarussian family. Probably if someone insulted one’s daughter in that time and place, that’s what you did: have your son/father/husband go over and beat up the offender. Could she have felt she didn’t want the kid to have a police record or have the neighbors raising questions about my own behavior (hardly!) or whatever? Why didn’t she tell my dad? We’ll never know now.
Thanks all.
I started this thread because I supposed that a parent going wild in Parent Bear mode will more likely scare or baffle their kidthen make them feel loved and protected.
If I may count reactions so far:
No Parent bear and glad/neutral of it: featherlou, SomeUserName, DMark
No Parent bear and sad about that: fishbycicle, Nava and Maastricht (would have liked protection when it was necessary)
Parent bear and scared/baffled: Maastricht, delphica, Ace309 (mortified), SisterCoyote (about potential action)
Parent bear and glad/proud: **Obsidian, AuntiePam Student Driver **(mixed) **Drain Bead **(non-violent incident) olivesmarch4th (also non-violent) Khadaji (non-violent defense) maggenpye (as long as parent had self-control) **Ol’Gaffer **(talking defender) **Nava **(but a bit baffled); thirdwarning (theoretical)
Unclear (you didn’t say how you felt about your parent bears intervention): dangermom, Cub Mistress, fisha, Mrs. Cake; a35362
So far, the bottom line seems to be that the kids who answered here liked their parents sticking up for them, ut only if the parents exercise self-control in doing so. And also that parents often don’t know what the kids actual problems are.
Overall positive, but then they only stepped in when things were escalated beyond what I could handle.
For example, there had been a bit of bullying at middle school, (admittedly not much as I tended to stand up for myself, but as a rather shy bookworm I was an obvious target). I was about ten. Towards the end of it one of the girls had a great idea, she thought, and enlisted her older brother’s friends.
They rang on the doorbell at home, and had one of the boys turn up to say he and his friend were there to go out with me, because they’d heard all about me. I said I didn’t know anything about this and I wasn’t interested, and went to close the door. Unfortunately, the guy didn’t like that reaction and tried again, with his foot in the door. Even more unfortunately my father was in hearing range and heard him get pushy. Picture a teenage boy picking on a ten year old girl, and suddenly finding himself facing a very angry scotsman.
One of my treasured childhood memories is Dad verbally flaying him. His friend was at the end of the drive, but I think most of the neighbourhood heard the speech, so he got the point. No swear words, but “cowards”, “shameless” and a number of questions about whether their parents knew what they were doing were raised. They slunk off, and I didn’t see them again after that. The girl who set it up avoided me for the rest of the year.
Maybe I should mention the other time my mom took on that teacher. Teacher had given us the world’s most stupid assignment, time-consuming, useless and repetitive. I stalled on it, and she told Mom I was way behind on it. So Mom (as expected) made me do it. Well, I was working, and working, and working, on it, and the mother asked me what was taking me so long and what the assignment was. I explained, she told me I must have it wrong, and she checked with the teacher about the instructions. See, the whole thing was so incredibly stupid Mom was sure I must have misunderstood it. No, I had it right. So she told my teacher she wasn’t going to make me do it, and she told me I didn’t have to finish it. The whole thing just quietly went away. I still have a warm spot for that memory.