The New Golden Rule

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Louis C.K. said something once that stuck to me like the skin I wear. “When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don’t get to decide that you didn’t.”
I try to live my life by basic principles of right and wrong. The notion reads easily enough, but right and wrong, like so many other things in this world aren’t clear cut. Because this world isn’t black and white. The world isn’t shades of grey either. We live in a techno-colored ball filled with billions of people. Each having their own ideas about why they’re experiencing the emotions they feel.
My personal ideas about right and wrong are simple. If I cause harm to another person, whether physically or mentally, on purpose, I’m wrong. If I cause harm under the same guidelines accidentally and refuse to acknowledge I’ve caused harm, I’m wrong. Simple. There are no “buts” or “what ifs” or “in this situation.” History is filled with loopholes contrived by people who clear their conscious by setting parameters that make their wrong doing more palatable. Nazi Soldiers gassed men, women, and children. All under the pretext of “following orders.” Law Enforcement in America harass, assault, and  murder men and women of color with impunity. The pretexts for these offenses ranging from “the suspect looked suspicious” to “the suspect was resisting” to “I feared for my life.” All of us as people have preconceived notions, both positive and negative, about others that don’t look, talk, or act like us. The pretext for these stem from how we were raised, the societies we live in, our friends, families, and the bubbles we create as we grow. In every one of these instances, the perpetrator can shift the blame to an external factor that excuses them for their actions. And in every single instance they’re the ones at fault. These are all “Grand Scheme of Things” examples, of course, but we all do it. We wrong someone and pass the buck.
“Oh, I stepped on your foot? The train’s crowded, it wasn’t my fault.”
“Yeah, I threw a gum wrapper on the floor, but there’s a janitor, it’s his job to clean it up.”
“I know I kept you waiting, but the bus was crowded.” And on and on and on.
I get it. I do. We’re all busy, hurried, harried, people, trying to get through life as best we can. Why must we waste time acknowledging the moments when we’re assholes, when more often than not, everyone’s being an asshole? Why do we have to acknowledge we’re wrong if we mean no malice? Why can’t others be less sensitive? Why does this issue matter so much to them? Those are good questions. Questions I’ve ignored instead of trying to find the answer to because I was naive enough to believe only idiots couldn’t understand empathy. Sadly, life is long. And I realize now, people who can rationalize their way around reflecting on their words and actions towards others are the ones hardest to convince they’re standing squarely in the wrong. Myself included.
Except it’s not difficult for me to see someone working through a pain I’ve caused and say “Damn, I was a shitty person in that moment to them. I have to do better.” That doesn’t mean apologizing and putting the moment on the backburner. Quite the opposite. That’s looking at another person’s pain, reflecting on why they’re hurting, and hopefully understanding that pain is bigger than your own ego.
Because if I say that you hurt me, you don’t get to decide that you didn’t.

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