Yesterday I watched the director of a documentary talk about the film, Bully, being released March 30th. It is making the news right now because it is rated R. Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) gave it this rating because of “some language” in the film — roughly seven uses of the word “fuck” — which means no one under 17 will be permitted to see the film without a parent or guardian. One of the students in the documentary testified against this rating because he could not go see a film about the life he lives every day. The MPAA will change the rating to one for a broader audience if the director removes a few of the F-words. Instead the director has used this as a another opportunity to call attention to bullying, that no one wants to believe it is this bad, that kids will be kids, and the host of many other reasons that we as a society have not stood up against this.
There are lots of films and organizations out there talking about this but for some reason this one reached deep inside me. Maybe it is this fight against making a documentary on bullying more palatable to audiences and the public, when the reality for kids who live with bullying daily is anything but. Or possibly it reminded me of some of my personal demons long tucked way. I was never bullied non-stop like so many kids are today. As a youngster I could go home and there was no non-stop of barrage from the internet or cell phones. Home could be a retreat that is no longer available to kids today.