Stand by them
BEING young is not easy. Several moments in my past still bring a pang of shame. Even with decades of wisdom, experience and intellectual insight, I cringe a little at some of my less glorious choices.
And I clearly recall “the photo”. Taken by a friend in the film camera days, I was wearing a très cool black hat, or so I thought, and pulling a funny face. Not so funny when my closest friend put the pic on her bedroom wall. She was one of the cool kids and lived two streets from the school, so there were multiple parties and visitors to that room, all of whom had a good laugh at my ugly mug.
Being the butt of someone else’s humour is never amusing and I can testify that at the age of sixteen being posted on someone’s wall with multiple chins, bug eyes and no context is mortifying. What may seem like gentle fun can cause deep angst.
Although the walls are now more likely digital than physical, I suspect some things never change.
We humans do odd things to each other. Sometimes these acts are unwittingly painful, like that of my friend who genuinely thought my photo was cute. Others are deliberately hostile and designed to hurt.
I’ve written before about passive aggression, for which this country is renowned. The silent treatment, sniggering and sledging-dressedas-humour. As adults, it’s rife in workplaces, common in local community clubs and, staggeringly, actually celebrated in some sports.
In Greater Geelong, we all appreciate the wonderful aspects of small towns and regional cities — the convenience, strong networks and friendly familiarity. That club feeling can be incredibly supportive, however it has a nasty underbelly that presents as parochialism and cliques.
Indeed, one underrated benefit of big city life is anonymity. The opportunity to move through life, love, work and play without feeling watched and judged is not to be sniffed at. That’s not about flying under a radar, rather it’s the absence of radar.
The freedom to just be. Regardless of where they live, for teens in particular this feeling of being assessed is amped up through social media. Young people are constantly rated according to likes, friends, followers and comments. That brings pressure to perform and manage things like random photos and how they are shared.
The teen screen world is largely silent and invisible to parents. This makes it challenging to know how kids are coping. And right now some are not.
Maturity includes building breadth in our social worlds to dilute potential harm from smallminded hostility. I could give lessons in being excluded and I must confess it still stung as recently as five years ago. But I’ve become as tough as old boots and choose to no longer dwell on petty politics.
Only two weeks ago I was excluded from a meeting of regional leaders to develop a recovery plan for Greater Geelong. When I questioned why the Mayor of Geelong was not included, I was advised elected officials weren’t invited. It seems this was untrue, as a couple of state MPs attended. When social exclusion is practised in broad daylight at state leadership level, I have the luxury of calling it out. It doesn’t affect me emotionally, professionally or in any practical sense, which is a hard-earned advantage.
Teens don’t always have that armoury. Most are hyper-sensitive and emotionally tender.
We have a heightened sense of anxiety in our region right now. Teachers, parents and our teens are all feeling it. As adults, our role is to calm the heck down and be their collective rock.
Having met with the nation’s mental health experts this week, I’ve learned that NIP is the acronym for “notice, inquire and provide”. As parents, adults and friends, we can nip this anxiety in the bud: NOTICE means observing changes in behaviour and attitudes; INQUIRE by asking how things are going, what could make things better and then listening without judgment; and,
PROVIDE your support, empathy and validate their feelings. Remind them that feelings do pass, keep the communication lines open and let them know help is available.
Understanding Winston Churchill’s quote, “If you’re going through hell, keep going”, is easy when you’ve reached an age to appreciate the words “extra firming” on your body moisturiser bottle.
Young people are still learning that life requires us all to keep getting up after a knock. Right now, the critical thing is that they know we have their backs as they grow.
Stephanie Asher is the Mayor of Greater Geelong.