I was painfully shy growing up.
I'm still introverted, but you can't realistically claim to be totally shy when you write stuff for a living and genuinely want people to read it. I love that part of writing -- hearing people's reactions, taking part in conversations, sharing ideas.
Okay, that might be a little lofty for a humorist. Maybe it's more like "taking part in inappropriate giggling" and "sharing potty training horror stories." Same concept, though.
However, the introverted part of me remains cautious. I'm not a boat rocker, and I don't care for confrontation. Naively, perhaps, in spite of overabundant porn and Nigerian cash scams, I still want the Internet to feel like a safe place. Luckily, my sense of humor seems to attract like-minded, sweet people with a hint of snark and an appreciation for occasional boob references.
I'd managed to avoid any run-ins with trolls. Those online bullies post inflammatory comments just to... what? I'm not sure. Be mean? Get an emotional reaction? Whatever the reason, I can tell you I was a little afraid of them. Confrontation is still confrontation, even if met through the glass of a computer screen. After all, that screen is the only thing separating the trolls from my thin skin.
But I knew it was only a matter of time.
Not long ago, I was excited to see one of my jokes retweeted by @HuffPostParents. Within minutes of reaching a larger audience, my words were met with overwhelming support and humor -- and one (I thought) unnecessarily venomous response.
Yikes!
Everyone's entitled to their own opinion, right? And everyone's entitled to post their opinion on the Internet.
But is everyone allowed to launch a personal attack against someone else's marriage and parenting based on one 140-character quip? Can you say whatever you want, as long as you follow up with, "Just sayin'"?
I tried to be as nice as possible, within the parameters of civility she had set.
And then I realized something that surprised me: my feelings weren't hurt. Maybe she was being a bully intentionally, maybe she was having a bad day, or maybe she just had trouble more kindly expressing her opinion within the confines of 140 characters, but I found I truly didn't care.
I still didn't care when she continued to tweet to me, and instead of being upset or cringing from the confrontation, I continued to respond with as much kindness as I could muster.
As I decided against congratulating this woman for being the very first person on the entire Internet that I ever had to block, my eight-year-old daughter came in and asked why I was laughing.
She knew I had posted her funny one-liner on Twitter (she was joking, by the way, when she said that -- she does know I occasionally lift a finger around here), so I told her quite simply that, in addition to a lot of really nice reactions, a bully had replied to it. She was as surprised as I was.
And I was happy to report to her that I'd responded the same way I'd always taught her to respond to bullies -- with kindness. And when that didn't work, with silence. And, the best surprise -- with my shy head held high.