Why Be Insulted?

“Remember that what is insulting is not the person who abuses you or hits you, but the judgment about them that they are insulting.” –Epictetus

A lot of time is undertaken in the attempts to avoid being slighted by those who wish to exalt themselves by placing all those around them in a shabby state. What can feel more humiliating than being the object of some person’s amusement? I can remember being 12 years old and not wanting my friends to know my mom bought the shirt I was wearing at K-Mart (is this store still open?). The sheer thought of what others might say and think frightened me half to death.  Will I loose by current friends? Will my girlfriend dump me?  Will my picture show up in the yearbook in a “that guy” status?  Oh … the depression, the anxiety, and the lack of peace felt throughout my body. Loss of sleep and the desire for eating gone—all because my Mom lacked middle-school self-awareness!  

(To my mother’s honor, she was working with what she had, and what she had for a provider was a Baptist preacher—my father.  Is this an insult? What to do?)

As it turned out, the word got out that my family shopped at K-Mart. While I did not loose my good friends, though they sure had a good laugh, my super-cute girlfriend of four days did break-up with me. She said something about it being about her. Right!  That “something” was she couldn’t stand the idea of dating a K-Mart boy. Yet, vindication was mine. For after being the object of Amanda’s mockery and malicious gossip (it turns out I also was a bad “hand-holder”), one night my mom decided to stop by K-Mart to buy who knows what, and guess who I ran into—Amanda buying some jeans. Oh the thrill, the laughter that spilled from my tiny month, all directed at that miserable blasphemer of venomous lies. Luckily, for Amanda and my sake, Nirvana’s “Teen Spirit” was released that winter, and the Goodwill shopping frenzy of the early 90’s made my dressing habits look elitist.

In retrospect, I wish I did not go to school the next day to spread the dirty little secret I had just acquired, for, while feeling good for a moment or two (retribution always does), this strategy for dealing with insults was not a guarantee of tranquility. No matter how much dirt I could dig up on my mockers, I would still be hurt by the scorn and rejection. Plus, the amount of time and energy it took to dig up really good dirt was becoming cumbersome. I simply didn’t have the stamina to keep track of everyone’s wrongs (that requires a lot of memory), nor did I want to compromise my integrity by conjuring up lies. I discovered that the worst possible reaction to someone insulting me was to choose to be insulted. Why give them the gratification of hurting me? Why should I give someone that power? I shouldn’t. Therefore, I had to come up with a different strategy.  I have discovered at least seven ways to not let others ruin my day.  

Due to length, I will not post this article in its entirety. Here are strategies one and two.  

Strategy one: Recognize the truth of the insult and change

After many years of research, it turns out I am filled with flaws of fantastic proportions. Shocking, I know! For so long I thought I was perfect, and every time some chump insulted or mocked me, it was because he/she simply lacked the degree of perfection I possessed. My sanctimonious temperament did provide a shield from the onslaught of jealous predators, but such an illusion came crashing down one fall evening when a very astute gentleman mocked my voracious pride. All at once, my façade was discovered. Someone saw me for who I was, and who I was wasn’t all that great. The insult worked. I changed by becoming only mildly prideful, yet aspired to be like the wise, who listens to life-giving rebukes (see Proverbs 15:31).  I came to realize many of the insults directed at me had some truth to them. Simply discarding the motives of the insulator, I started striving to see the truth and apply it to my life.

Strategy two: Consider if the insults even matters

I have always been a fairly rough guy. Manners are not traits naturally flowing from my inner being; rather, they are actions achieved by force.  This became apparent in my time spent in Cambridge, England. The Cambridge University was refined, the people were refined, the people’s dress was refined, and their language was refined. Knowing I could not match the British accent, I strove to match their eloquence in speech with proper syntax and ostentatious locutions. But, despite my parent’s best efforts, The Simpsons raised me, and I was unable to discard my lack of decorum and cheep words—like, “things and stuff.”

After many encounters with the British elite, I found myself the object of snooty ridicule—be it the music I like, my speech, sunglasses, dress, the way I sat, and even moved. Many told me that I needed to discard my irregular behavior and embrace “the higher way of life.” Now in such cases, I normally take the insults as I just described above, for it is important to make sure an unhealthy pride is not the reason for dismissing an insult. However, in these cases, I did not feel like I was doing anything morally wrong. So what if I did not use refined speech. So what if I did not walk or sit with grace. So what if my rather frank nature made a few constipated Brits uneasy. As far as I was concerned, it was good for them.

I came to realize, I didn’t want to be like the high-class Brits. While I didn’t fit in at cocktail parties at the University, my rough outer shell suited me quite nicely in the local pub. There I (and and another friend of mine) were known as the philosopher, and many local Englishmen bought me pints in exchange for philosophical discourse. Their opinion of me was nothing but panegyric, whereas the elite University members, upon seeing me enter the formal hall, acted as if an omen of failure had been spotted. At the local English pub was where I belonged. These were the people I enjoyed talking to—the ordinary. I am sorry; I’d rather listen to Bob Dylan than Bach. All and all, I simply didn’t consider the insults of the elite Brits to matter all that much. As far as I am concerned, only the opinions of the wise should be thought highly of, and I did not find wisdom in such advice. I will act as nicely as I can when invited to their events, for I see no reason to cause scandal, but I will not change my entire demeanor because a few people found my body language “unbecoming.”   

Look forward to further post on strategies three through seven.