We Are Not Things

Words to remember. Words to live by.

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My dearest friend Chris bought me this bracelet. I love it (and her) so much that it finds its way onto my wrist nearly every day.

It’s a simple aluminum cuff stamped with the words “We Are Not Things,” which is one of the taglines from my favorite movie: Mad Max Fury Road.

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“We Are Not Things” is a cry of liberation from desperate women fleeing across the wasteland in search of a better life. But truly, it applies to every character in the film, including Mad Max himself.

And it applies to me. And to you. And to everyone I meet.

We are not things.

I always wear it on my right wrist, with the words facing me.

I catch glimpses of it at odd times during the day. When I’m cooking. When I’m putting on chaptstick, and especially when I’m at the computer. I spend most of my time alone so usually I’m the only one who sees it.

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But I’m the one who needs to see it. Because in this internet age, where wit is social currency, I sometimes forget that there’s another human being on the other end of the computer.

As a writer, I put a lot of stock in words. I know what words mean. I know how to use them. I know how to combine them to achieve exactly the effect I’m hoping for. The problem comes when I’m on social media, having fun with my snarky friends, trying to top one joke with another. On social media—especially Twitter—many times the effect I’m hoping for is “making myself look good at the expense of others.”

Most of the time this is okay. Even hilarious. Nobody is hurt when I mock Comcast for their poor service or make a joke about the latest political debate. But there have been times when I’ve let it get more personal, and more nasty, than that. Once, I trusted my words far too much.

I made some observations about a friend I’ll call Stephanie (not her real name). Then, I used those observations to talk about my own shortcomings. I thought it was okay to use Stephanie as a platform because ultimately, I was the butt of my own joke.

Just typing those words make me cringe. I thought it was okay to use my friend as a platform. I thought it would be funny.

It wasn’t funny. Stephanie didn’t care that the joke was on me. She cared that I’d used her to get a laugh. I’d treated her like a thing. She took me to task for it and has not yet forgiven me. Nor have I forgiven myself.

I never want that to happen again. So I wear my bracelet, and I remind myself that we are not things. And I stop and think before I tweet.

Chris has never met Stephanie. She didn’t know any of this when she gave me the bracelet. She simply wanted to give me a momento of a movie I love, a reminder of my own liberation, a token of our friendship, and a pretty piece of jewelry to wear.

But she also gave me a beautiful reminder to take care with my words, because I am not, you are not, and we are not things.

About the author: Alex Kourvo writes near-future thrillers under the pen name M.H. Mead. Nowadays, she channels her snark into her characters instead of onto the internet.

One response

  1. *hugs you super tight*

    I love this post. And I love you. This was brave and beautiful.

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