Can Someone Offend Me?

Can I be offended?

By words?

Yes. But where does the offense occur? In the word? In the intent of the offender? Or in my own mind?

Certainly someone may intend to offend me, with words. But can the words offend if I do not accept them? I can certainly understand the intent, if they are spoken with contempt, with anger. But must I take offense at words?

I must say, no. I am not compelled to take offense. It is a choice. Or maybe it is better to say that I am not compelled to accept the offense, even if intended. I can acknowledge the intent without internalizing the pain of that intent. Theoretically, at least. It is much harder in practice. I will certainly grant that.

If I am called, “stupid,” or some nastier word, can I hear it without internalizing it? I know that I am not stupid, or I should know it. But I think we all feel as if our knowledge, our skills, our experience is lacking. It is part of our Fear of Inadequacy, the seed of all fear itself. Not of fearing, the verb, but Fear, the noun, of something we have.

It is a choice to accept the insult, the barb, to allow it to take root in our mind, to take a wound from it, even if it does not feel like choice. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me. But of course words do harm us, especially if we internalize them.

This should not be construed as a license or justification for using certain words. I will not enumerate them here. We all know there are words in every language linked, inextricably with the violence and oppression of large groups of people based on race, sex, gender, culture, and religion. There are no appropriate places for their use, with the possible exception of art, but there, only to condemn them for their destructiveness and connection to violence and oppression.

These words have been used, over and over again, as weapons to control others, to label them and to keep them down. They are contemptuous. They are always used — by the group in power — with ill intent, as a threat. To employ such words is an attack and an offense, because we know, or should know, that they are destructive and offensive.

Physical attacks, to which I would include the racist, sexist, and bigoted words alluded to above, are real offenses. We do not have to choose to accept them for them to be so. If they cause or threaten physical harm, to us, to our property, or our ability to survive in the physical world, then it is an offense. If someone punches you in the face, it is an offense. If the words they use threaten to do so, it is an offense. If they steal your car, your home, burn your crops to the ground, this is an offense. It is not a matter of choice on your part.

But do we, the attacked, have no choice at all?

If I am attacked, must I be a victim?

I have been victimized, certainly. But to be a victim, I must choose to think of myself as one. That is my choice, alone. My attacker cannot make me a victim. It is a label. They can victimize (a verb of action), but not create a victim (a noun). I alone can do that. Or, I can choose not to be one. I can choose to reject the label.

That does not mean the label does me no harm. It might do harm to me in very real ways, external to myself. But I do not have to internalize the label, and should not, because then the word is truly destructive.

Please do not think that I am, in any way, blaming the victimized for the attack: that they somehow brought it on themselves, or that their pain is not real. One of the most destructive aspects of attacks, whether physical or verbal, is the psychological pain they leave in their wake. I do not blame anyone for feeling that pain, or for feeling they are a victim. It is perfectly understandable. I often feel I am a victim of one thing or another. But being a victim, as opposed to being victimized, will not help me to recover. In fact, it means I am stuck in a cycle of internalized pain.

The sooner I can change my internal language from ‘victim’ to ‘victimized’ the sooner I will begin to heal and take back control of my own mind: control my attackers have stolen from me.

Reaction and Response

How I respond or react to the attack is also my choice. It is completely my choice. I can react violently, in words or in actions. Or I can flee, or walk away, if I am left alive of course. But those are my choices. They may not be appetizing choices. But they are still choices. I can choose to defend myself, my family, my friends and neighbors, or choose not to. I can choose to give up my life to my attacker. Or I can resist, or run if that is an option. All my choices.

Any of those choices are understandable. I would not judge the attacked for their choices. I have chosen all of them in my lifetime, with the exception of giving up my life. I’ve run. I’ve stood my ground and fought. I even once tried to kill my attacker. I stopped, fortunately, before achieving that end. But the thought ran through my mind as I pummeled him on the ground. It beat in my ears like a drum. So, I get it. But that was a choice I made. I was driven by nothing, or if I was, I allowed myself to be driven, by anger, by fear, by contempt. It was a choice.

Choice is the root of individual responsibility.

It is in the word, itself: respons-ibility, the ability to respond. We should have a corresponding word: react-ibility.

React is what most of us do. That’s what I do, most of the time. I react; I do not respond. Reaction is natural. It is a lizard-brain, fear instinct. It is built into our DNA, the construction of our brains. But we can learn to temper it, if not control it. I am not sure I can control it, completely. I’ve written an entire book on fear, and years later, I still struggle to control my fear-based reactions, especially in the moment.

It is very hard to interrupt it. I do, sometimes, manage to cut it off before I speak or act in anger. But I still feel the anger/fear reaction in my mind. My heart rate goes up, the blood rushes to my feet and hands, to flight or flee. In that moment, we are given the tiniest fraction of time to decide, to respond, or at least not to outwardly react.

If we can mange to cut off our outward reaction, we may limit the damage done. We can then breathe, take time to cool down, to allow our conscious mind to regain control before deciding how to respond. That is always the goal.

Do I manage it?

No, not often.

I think that in moments like these, a tool, like counting upwards, is helpful. Of course, we must first interrupt our fear/anger reaction. But if we can manage it, then we can start counting, as we breathe. One, two, three, four,… Walk away if we have to. Step away from our computer screen or phone, put it down. Do not type that snarky comeback on Facebook. Instead, go sit with your anger and fear. Try to allow it to go. It’s okay to be angry, pissed off, afraid even. It’s natural.

But that doesn’t mean we have to react, or respond. We can choose to respond, later, if ever. Not responding to offenses is also a response. The response of non-response. Silence is often the best response to intended or unintended offenses. To say, or write, or do anything will often inflame the situation.

That doesn’t mean we should never respond. Some attacks should be rejected and condemned out of hand, in particular, the verbal, racist, sexist, and bigoted ones. This is especially true if one is — as I am — a member of the majority, ruling group, and we see or hear such an attack upon someone else. To stand by and allow it to continue is a tacit approval. We should speak up, or act, to stop the attack, even if it means possibly being attacked ourselves.

Other offenses, especially if we think they might not have been intended, can be addressed with understanding. This is more likely if the offender is a friend, or family member, who we believe really does care for us. They might not know they said something, or did something to which we took offense.

If so, we can approach them, later, after we’ve cooled down, and say, “I know you did not mean to be hurtful, but what you said/did was.” Then explain why.

You should know why, first. This is a question we should ask ourselves whenever we feel offended. “Why do I feel this way?” “What in my past, or my socialization, would cause such a reaction in my mind?”

Knowing this is to take ownership in our own feelings. Our feelings do not belong to someone else. They are ours, alone. No one makes us feel anything. Our mind is our own. Others may have helped to construct it, but it is our responsibility (there’s that word again) to fix it. We should own our feelings and realize that sometimes we are taking offense when none was intended.

This will help us when we sit down to explain to a friend why what they said or did was hurtful. Then they get to respond or react to what we’ve said. What they do or say will determine whether they are truly a friend, or not.

For those instances where offense was intended. We should speak up for ourselves and set clear boundaries. Make it clear that you will not stand for offensive language, that what they’ve said is not okay, and why. If you need help to do this, reach out to find it. Then work to resist internalizing their attack, to resist thinking of yourself as a victim. Because to do so would allow them to win.

Steve Bivans is the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers: Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians, The End of Fear Itself, the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth; and Anno Draconis: Dawn of the Dragon. He loves to hear from his readers! CONTACT STEVE