Snarl

Snarl

Jennifer L McKeighan

I was driving to my sister's house when it happened.

I was pulling up to the four-way intersection when the traffic signal lights malfunctioned. All four drivers interpreted the green light as a solid 'go' as they surged forward to meet in a screech of brakes, metal, and voices. If I had been in line one car sooner, I might have been in the accident. As it was, I now had a front-row view of the chaos.

I called Kat to tell her I would be late for our coffee date and asked if she wanted to cancel and try another day. We lived two towns away from each other; we could reschedule.

"Well, are you okay?" she asked. My younger sister was a self-appointed guardian of the family.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm waiting at an intersection. Not a ding on me or the car."

"Good, good. Do you want me to stay on the line with you?"

"Kind of you to offer, but I have a good book in my bag. It will help me pass the time."

"Oh, good. What are you reading?"

I paused for a moment.

"I'm just re-reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird'." I hated that I lied to her.

"If you change your mind, call back."

I couldn't help myself from wondering if she both heard and interpreted my pause.

Since there wasn't a book, I decided to close my eyes and rest them for a moment. I had stayed up reading the night before and was paying for it now.

Another car pulled out of my lane and attempted to find a way through the intersection. They ended up trapped between my car and the accident scene. A traffic officer came over and read them the riot act, which secretly pleased me. Act like a dimwit on your own time, I mused in the other driver's direction.

It was then I saw a bumper sticker on the car. It was one of those that shows all these symbols for different religions and spells out the word 'COEXIST'. I laughed to myself about the irony of that sticker on Mr. Intolerant's car. Life is too funny sometimes if you know how to look at it the right way.

That got me thinking about the ways political correctness has altered us. It's a mindset that has radically changed how we think—or has it? We use kinder words these days, but are the old prejudices still there? I am all in favor of kinder words, but I hope they also lead to kinder actions. If not, why are we bothering? After all, one has to keep aware of how everyone wants to be referred to now. Is it even working?

A tow truck arrived to pull one of the cars out of the pile-up. I could see the driver of that car angrily gesturing at the defunct traffic light, making a case for a possible lawsuit, I imagined.

There it is. Why did I automatically assume that man was looking to sue the city? What if he was just scared—or upset his car got smashed, and he was probably late for a meeting or an appointment? It had taken me about 2.5 seconds to prejudge him.

That made my thoughts turn back to my original ramble on the value of political correctness. I mean, we don't need to look too far to find some other person to judge. Skin color, religious beliefs, disabilities, appearance, weight, sexual partners, etc.--was there anyone beyond possible disdain?

I thought of my friend, Aaron, who was black and disabled. He had was caught in an urban crossfire, and a bullet destroyed his spinal column. He would never walk again. He had what some might consider a 'double whammy', and this was a shame.

You see, Aaron has been there for me in ways no so-called able-bodied person has ever been. I am not exaggerating when I say he is the dearest soul I know. When I thought of anyone looking down on him—for any reason and for a single second—it made me seethe. We are not fair to people who are at all different from us.

Political correctness is something Aaron despises, which surprised me when he first told me.

"It's a mask," he told me. "Someone can say all the right words and still hate or fear you. The only difference now is that I have more trouble determining who is 'woke' from those hiding behind a mask. That doesn't help me at all."

"How did you know I was 'woke'?" I asked him that day.

"Who says you are, white girl? You could have a Klan card for all I know."

I adore the lopsided grin he gives me when teasing me, and I was looking at it that day.

"See, here is what I mean. A person could be affiliated with all the right groups—the civil liberties folks, the environmental groups, the various people trying to make things better for specific others, etc. But all that proves is where your extra cash might go. It doesn't say anything about what your actions might prove."

I nodded in agreement.

"It can be dangerous, too. If I think my neighbor is a nice guy, but he secretly has a white sheet with a matching pointy hood, I am trusting someone I should not. The night he comes to my door with rope and torches to place a burning cross on my sidewalk and drag me off to someplace to be lynched, it will be too late. I do myself a disservice if I make easy assumptions that political correctness does any good. Trust me, my hanging ass is no longer going to care how you refer to my dead body."

I wanted to think he was overthinking it, and people have changed for the better. But was he right? Was PC thinking merely a smokescreen for haters?

When I was a child, our favorite schoolyard insults were 'retard' and 'fag'. We played a game once called 'smear the queer'. We didn't hesitate to think about how wrong these words were. 

I wondered if my nephews were any different today—and how much of it was due to their parents teaching them to say the correct words. I knew young adults, just out on their own, who reverted to these old ways of thinking, as though political correctness was a restriction placed on them by their parents and just one more thing against which to rebel.

I went down the rabbit hole, so to speak, my mind reeling with all the different things we have labeled people throughout human history. I marveled at how many old prejudices survived unto this day. We can be a hostile species, you know?

A loud car horn sounded. It was the car behind me. I looked ahead and saw the intersection cleared, and traffic was flowing again. The light in front of me glowed green.

"Pull head outta ass and move!" a shrill voice screamed out behind me.

I did as instructed and was soon on my way to Kat's once more.

I couldn't help but smile, however.

The woman hadn't sugar-coated it. She told me exactly how she felt, courtesy be damned.