ArcaMax

About a week after my column on the fifth anniversary of George Floyd's death was published, I received a vile email from a reader who called me a "leftish, DEI b--h." At the beginning of his despicable message, he used a nasty expletive to describe Floyd and ruthlessly suggested that we should dig up the body to make sure Floyd is dead. Like most people who hurl insults online, this reader did not have a profile picture, and I immediately blocked him. Yet his words stung a bit. I have never been called the B-word to my face, nor have I been verbally assailed with the N-word from a reader. What momentarily got to me was this particular reader's repulsive presumptuousness to basically call me a racist. He hastily generalized what he thought to be my political stances since I am a Black woman, and in our current anti-DEI climate, he spitefully assumed I was a quota hire for my Ohio State University faculty position. He has no idea how God graciously opened doors and blessed me to get through graduate school at OSU. He does not know the discipline it took to pass rigorous exams and write research papers, nor the long nights I spent studying and reading scholarly journal articles in my field. Because he saw my nationally syndicated column on Floyd and vehemently disagreed with my opinions, he dared to insinuate that I did not earn my credentials.

I've been doing opinion writing long enough to know that ad hominem attacks are par for the course in this business, especially in our ever-present digital age. However, my reaction to assaults on my character now differs significantly from how I used to respond. During the early 2000s, I remember receiving an email from a reader who replied to a column I had written about the racial stereotypes of Black players in the NBA. While I stated that African American athletes make up most of the league's players and are physically gifted in basketball, I also pointed out that cultural and economic factors contribute to their interest in the sport. For example, back then, young Black boys were heavily influenced by the television shoe commercials of highly successful NBA players like Kobe Bryant and Tracy McGrady. These players had a substantial cultural impact, especially for Black boys who were not exposed to other sports such as hockey and tennis. In some instances, their parents may not have had the means to support them participating in more expensive sports, and basketball was and still is easily accessible for youngsters growing up in urban areas, where a playground or park usually has a court. This reader did not want to consider these possibilities and snarkily replied that I needed to go back to journalism 101. He followed up with this absurd remark: "Do you think polar bears are white because they want to be?" My mistake in interacting with this reader was that I gave in to my pride and boasted myself up by scolding him on logical fallacies. The conversation went nowhere as we exchanged offensive barbs.

Thankfully, I have matured since then and, more importantly, grown in my faith in God. I decided not to respond to this angry reader's hateful comments on Floyd, as it was clear he was not interested in having a meaningful discussion. As I deleted his email, I thought about what Christ taught in Matthew 5:44, where He commanded us to love our enemies and to bless those who curse us. It's challenging to do this in what young folk presently call our "clapback culture," where people give in to the impulse to counter disparaging comments with equally hurtful jabs. This cutting verbal sparring is useless, much like how the Apostle Paul described "(beating) the air" in 1 Corinthians 9:26. I'm at a point now where I know I am not obligated to prove anything to anyone through senseless arguing. This is another reason I reference God in my columns, no matter what topic I am addressing, because I want my readers to see where my inspiration comes from. I take joy in acknowledging the One who blessed me with this platform.

In the conclusion of my Floyd column, I referred to "Godly love" as the "definitive answer" to racial injustice and police brutality. The reader who furiously responded missed this point, but as a Christian, I must love him despite his disdain for me. I choose to love because it provides enduring hope that he can change.

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Dr. Jessica A. Johnson is a lecturer in the English department at Ohio State University's Lima campus. Email her at smojc.jj@gmail.com. Follow her on X: @JjSmojc. To find out more about Jessica Johnson and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

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