Recently at my dad's funeral, I was reunited with some second cousins who I played with frequently when I was very young. Our families would get together sometimes. I haven't seen them since we were kids. I haven't thought much about them over time. But when I saw them again, a deep-seated memory arose inside of me. I can remember being at their house, in their neighborhood, when an older kid started picking on me. Instead of helping me or telling this other kid to stop, all of them joined together to laugh at my misfortune and call me names! I remember I felt quite alone and helpless and wasn't sure what to do at my young age. So as I said, I haven't thought about this for decades. But the memory arose shortly after I saw these two people. Apparently it was quite traumatic and stuck with me all these years even though it was buried. So if you think that bullying doesn't matter, I believe it does. I believe that calling people names, and vilifying certain groups...