To the man who called me a dumb b*tch

A man called me a dumb b*tch on Saturday as he roared past me in his car.

Had he slowed down just a bit, I would have asked him a follow up question, but he apparently had very important places to be and a desperate need to get there quickly.

His word choice, the venom with which he spat them out and the fact that he was angry at all took me aback, but they didn’t affect my mood.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I had a far better day than he did.

I mention it here because the encounter got me thinking about how we humans express ourselves.

The mode by which we communicate has expanded exponentially. We can text, tweet, post, instant message, FaceTime, email, chat, and call by phone or video. We can also write, shout, speak, sign, whisper and sing.

But the means by which we communicate has never changed in all these years of human existence.

We use words, and we have access to millions of them.

The words we use often say much more about us than they do about the people and things we describe.

The two words that man used told me plenty about him. They told me he had a short temper and a reflexive comfort with misogynistic vulgarities.

Our entire encounter lasted less than the five seconds he took to swerve past my parked vehicle in the uncongested airport drop off area. I have to wonder what was actually bothering him that day.

We live in an inequitable world and we all have our own heartaches and struggles.

But we humans share the unique gift of language.

The words we choose have tremendous power. They can wound or comfort, advance a cause or damn it, build a relationship or tear it down.

Words can make our hearts swell, our bellies laugh, our eyes water and our faces blush.

I just think sometimes we need to choose them a little more carefully.