Dear Friend of a Facebook Friend:

I said I wouldn’t do it any more, but I did.  I commented on a political post on Facebook and when you responded, I engaged.  I knew I shouldn’t– my stomach hurt when I read your comment, and my heart raced as I typed my next question.  “Why are you so angry?” You assured me you were not, called me a “typical liberal, making accusations when you don’t get your way.” You assured me you were just stating facts and told me to “keep my opinion to myself.”  You called me a “snowflake,” told me to go sing “Kumbaya,” called me “sweetheart” and told me that you despised the party that I represented. Besides, you said, you were bored at work and it was “fun” bantering with me.

I should have stopped the conversation, should have stepped away to take my morning walk, should have breathed deeply and let it go.  But the night before, I had watched a documentary about a Muslim woman interviewing men from the alt-right and it affected me. The men she interviewed were, by and large, lonely, sad, and sheltered.  It made me wonder–in the age of rapid and world-wide communication technology, why have we stopped listening to each other? Just listening to understand, not to argue. I stopped commenting on Facebook posts months ago when I realized it is not the place for productive conversation.  It is a place where people shout at each other, double down, dig in, and insult people they’ve never met. It is a place full of assumptions, with a layer of anonymity that allows people to say things they would never say face to face. That morning I wondered–if I could just engage you in conversation, would you keep insulting me?  So I asked you where you work. You responded, again, with anger– you didn’t want to get to know me, sweetie, so I should stop asking “stupid questions” like where you work. Then you told me “God Bless.” Then you apologized for calling me sweetie, because you didn’t want to hurt my precious feelings again.

I apologized too and said I didn’t want to hurt your feelings either.  I called you “sugar pie” and maybe that showed you that I have enough of a sense of humor that I was not melting under your “banter,” because you continued the conversation.  You told me you needed a new job. You told me your son was going to the Arizona border to be a border patrol officer. You told me an officer was killed there recently by an “illegal.”  You told me you weren’t worried for him– that you “couldn’t be more proud.” I said “I wish him luck.” And then I went to work.

Later in the day, I checked Facebook again to see if you had commented more and I found all my comments were gone.  Your comments were gone. You were gone. I looked you up by name, and your profile was gone. Blocked, I assume. You blocked me.  Which is fine. But why? Are we at such a place that my engaging with you– trying to be human with you in spite of your insulting, demeaning “banter”–scared you?  Did you think I was trying to change your mind? Turn you “liberal?” Did you think I was a Russian troll?

All I can say is, it makes me sad.  I know, I know….sadness is a soft, liberal “snowflake” kind of emotion. You probably think I’m weak.  You will probably tell me to go back to my “safe space” and cry. I know being strong is important to you.  But I truly am sad that we Americans have lost our ability to talk politely to each other. I’m sad that we have so much distrust for the “other side” that we won’t listen any more.  I’m sad that a gesture of kindness is perceived as a threat.

I’m sorry that I scared you, sugar pie.  God Bless.