Sticks and Stones...

...may break my bones but words can never hurt me.

This is a lie. Words can hurt the most and leave wounds and scars much deeper than those left by sticks and stones. Some words can leave festering wounds that only appear to have healed, but that can be ripped open with the tiniest whisper. Some words are deemed to have so much negative power that it is taboo to speak them.

They are words that strike at the core of who you are. They attack an essential aspect of your being, your make up, your you-ness. They attack a part that is integral in who you are, but also a part that you have no control over. A part that was not picked, but a part that you were born with. The part of you that carries all your family history and that part of you that will pass onto future generations.

The other day I was called a cheap Jew, after I had been told to take my star of David and shove it. It was hurled angrily at me by a person I considered a friendly acquaintance. It was thrown out with the sole intention of causing hurt and pain. It was a sucker punch to the gut, a low blow.

The hurt was instantaneous and the rage was only half a second behind. I was livid.

ASSHOLE! HE CAN GO FUCK HIMSELF!

Then the red haze began to lift and I realized he was sad and pathetic. He knew he had nothing else with which to hurt me so he went to this dark ugly place. He is unhappy with his life and chose to lash out at me in such a way because that was his only weapon.

And that is when I realized all he warranted from me was pity. He is a sad, small little man. He is nothing to me and he doesn't matter anymore in my life.

My Jew self is awesome!

And P.S. Jerkface, I'm a broke Jew, not a cheap Jew. There's a difference, learn it.