In this day and age where “politically correct” is a catchphrase oft extolled or demonized, I have to say that I admire honesty and yet recognize the offensiveness of people’s honesty. 

When it is who they are, and they can unapologetically admit to it, it at least opens up the opportunity for dialogue.  Perhaps what they think is reasonable to think, and maybe not even racist, sexist, or homophobic (but sounds it).  Or perhaps it comes from a lack of understanding of a perspective that has yet to be successfully communicated. 

We cannot change what we do not acknowledge. 

For example if I were to call a homophobe a “faggot,” that’s not as offensive as if he were out of the closet, because the homophobe might deserve that, and it also may be true, as self-hate is the beginning of all other hate. 

Or if I describe someone as black, is that offensive?  Should I avoid saying the word black?  Should I say, “what is the name of that new girl, y’know, she’s tall, has dark hair, brown eyes…”

“Is she black?”

“Um, I didn’t notice.”

I don’t see color.  I’m color blind.

And what about Men who say that it matters to them what a woman looks like, and that they won’t date someone who isn’t in good shape or thin, or whatever.  Do we condemn him for thinking that, for saying it, or for even admitting it to himself, when you know it’s true? 

I’m not saying all men are like that.  In fact, I believe that once a man gets to know you, what matters most is whether you make him feel good or bad, and that’s true with women too.  People want to be appreciated for who they are and want to be.  And then you end up wanting to please that person who pleases you.  But at first, to say that looks don’t matter, or to condemn a man for admitting that it does, seems wrong. 

Why is it politically incorrect to tell the truth?

I’ve never been one for teachers.  To this day. many years since I’ve darkened any school hallways (you don’t need to know how many), I think school was a waste of my time – and probably ruined my chances of really becoming what I want (except for the fact that I’m not dead YET).  I played music, still play a little, I’m getting back into it now, and never responded well to instruction there either.  I always felt that all I needed was practice.  And writing.  I search for the answers about how to become a successful writer.  Well, figure it out yourself, that’s what you have to do.  That’s what I have to do, you might be different (which goes without saying so don’t make me repeat it).

As a great teacher, Constantine Stanislavski, once said, if you can’t find a teacher that you can trust, turn to the only teacher you can trust.

That would be yourself.