The quintet of human, physical perceptual experience is well established: seeing; hearing; smelling; tasting; and touching. All sentient life – to varying degrees of efficiency – possesses some or all of these five capabilities.

· The eagle, from dizzying heights, can detect camouflaged prey scurrying along the ground.

· The shark, from miles away, instantly can detect the fluid of life mixed with brine.

· The nocturnal owl can detect the slightest disturbance within the brush at twilight – and reach that spot instantly.

· The ant and bee can locate incredibly remote food sources and unerringly return to home-base, and lead others to that source.

· The sight-challenged bat can hum its way through a maze in pitch-darkness.

· The nesting bird can detect micro-changes in temperature that require repositioning of the egg.

Not content with the natural challenges of our five points of perception, we humans (at least we Human-Americans) have come up with a new phenomenon further to test the potency of our perceptive powers. This new recipe for our social ills apparently cooked up in the kitchens of acadème, is called micro-aggression. Actually, the idea is not new, and it was not cooked up. The term was coined in 1970 by Dr. Chester M. Pierce, a Harvard psychiatrist who is African American. Miccro-aggression is how Dr. Pierce describes those frequent, unintentional, slights and dismissals he has noticed to be inflicted upon African Americans by individuals of the larger society.

In 1976, M.I.T. Economist Mary Rowe extended the term to include the same type of statue-conversation (this writer's coinage) offensive to women. Ultimately, the term micro-aggression came to encompass the casual degradation of any socially marginalized group such as the poor and disabled.

Naturally, the Right-Wing, who are the main practitioners of micro-aggression, finds all of this to be a more fanciful imposition of political correctness – which, for decades, has been the majoritarian term for, keeping me from saying whatever the fuck I please about them Niggers, Spicks, Gooks and crips (or Crips)!

Well, with all of that being said, tiresomely, it all backs up upon us Americans and our piebald, patchwork, national philosophy. Perhaps, in the same vein, we need these silly, inexplicit terms in order to come to terms with our inexplicit, hypocritical existence as a nation. Maybe we need the inexplicit, political correctness and micro-aggression to explain away the very explicit, We hold these truths to be self-evident...

**** ***** ****

Once, I met Micro Aggression

At a weird, self-help session.

"How's it going," I said.

He just scratched his head:

"Thought we had the same impression."

sombre
wind whistles

vibrating
bodies burn
in communion

chaos cheats
choir once
again

bourj al-barajneh

paris

palmyre

dancers of dead
follow
fountains of blood

names
numbers
now

night
this
night

howl
in terror"s tower

built
before babel

for baal

ba'al

take us
back to sound

of sewing
skin
back

fury's
secret

baal
bring bird
on shoulders
screeching

golden
afternoons gone

world no more

(than that)

let cacophony
of birds wing
flutter against flesh

wounded
we sing

alone
we come
to choir

secret safe
behind our teeth
but speech difficult

walk towards us

ribbons in hair

book in hands

living
souls
sing song
clouds ô clouds

ancient hours
open

open

open up
between feet

dance deliberately

without word
without

fear
tree of birds
crying

fear
tree of birds
crying

wash away
wash
away with
saliva

sister
& brother

heritage
hurting

hurting
beyond

belief
border

border

belief

learn
language of water

under skin
learn

now
learn

learn
now

go
to secret

become

ash
alphabet
shelter

secret
succumb

cough blood
outside gate
in garden

go with ghost

exchange tongues

count & count
again

place pebbles
in one pocket

then another

count pebbles
in palm

unfolding under horizon

I'm sorry I didn't say hello back to you when you said hi to me in the parking lot today. I heard you mumble, "Rude.", under your breath as you walked away. Yes, I know it seemed that I was being rude and unfriendly and, whether you believe me or not, I felt bad about being unfriendly. I didn't even raise my eyes from the ground. I may not be able to know if you will actually read this but maybe other men will and understand why some women aren't friendly when men we don't know are friendly to us. It's not personal.

It has more to do with us and a little bit of our personality type but a whole lot about how we grew up and what we saw and experienced as females. Some of us are just plain shy and it's difficult to be put on the spot in public spaces, it's uncomfortable and difficult. For many others of us it has to do with being a victim of a predator at some point in our lives. It could have been a bully. It might have been a father figure who scolded us not to present ourselves as 'easy' to men around us. We may have experienced sexual abuse, been molested or raped. You have no way of knowing so we appear cold and unfriendly and rude. That's not your fault- I'm sure you are a great person and would never think of harming someone but, there it is. Unfortunately, all men have to bear the brunt of what a few have done. It's human nature to avoid something that has caused harm in the past. People who have been in a serious car accident tend to be be overly cautious drivers- not the fault of all other drivers, just a reaction to a past traumatic experience.

For some women who have been molested, sexually assaulted or raped the reaction from family, friends and law enforcement was not supportive and as we witness quite regualrly in the news women are often ortrayed as bringing it upon thmselves. The following are true stories that have been altered slightly so as not to cause further harm to the women. Perhaps, you will understand why they don't say hi.

A little girl is lying in her bed in her dark room with light shinning on the hallway floor. Her mom and dad are out for the evening and her babysitter is in the living room watching TV. Just as she is about to fall asleep she sees a shadow coming down the hall, quiet foot steps come into her room and a figure hovers over her bed, determining if she is asleep. She feigns sleeps because Daddy gets very mad if she doesn't fall asleep right away. The babysitter, a young man of 15, slips into bed with her. She almost stops breathing- wondering why he is in her bed. She lays very, very, very still hoping he will go away. He doesn't, instead he begins to touch her 10 year old body making his way to her underwear. What is happening!? What will Mommy and Daddy say? What can she do to make him stop? He keeps touching her and fondling her and she can hardly breath, confused and afraid and helpless she lays stiff until he goes away. After he leaves she doesn't fall asleep until she hears her parent's car pull in the driveway. A sense of relief flows through her. She is safe now. Her fear and shame prevent her from telling her parents, they tell her what a nice boy he is and how nice it is that he is willing to babysit. This wasn't the only time it happened and her fear of confiding in her parents prevents her from telling them and she endures it many more times. She was 10. When she is an adult woman and gathers the courage to tell her husband and he tells her she is over sensitive and over reacting, "Ah, that's nothing. He was just a kid, he didn't know what he was doing. At least he didn't rape you." She never tells anyone until she finds a kindred spirit.

A young woman is invited to a party and she is really excited, she is new to the school and is happy to be included. The parents aren't home, the rooms are dark with only candles, the smell of marijuana permeate the house, and alcohol is flowing freely when she gets there and many of the other students are visibly drunk. As the evening goes on a young man shows interest in her, she feels flattered and accepted and returns his interest. Slowly, before she even realizes it, he has maneuvered her into an empty bedroom and closed the door. Her heart is pounding. She hardly knows him. She barely knows any of the kids in the house. Music is playing so loud no one can hear each other. Her pulse is racing and she is frantic. How can she get out without all the new kids realizing that she has been alone with him. Will they laugh at her? Will they make fun of her? She just wants to go home. Before she understands what is happening she is held flat against a bed and his pants are down and he is forcing himself on her. She fights him off, grabs her things and runs out the door and all the way home. Seeing her daughter upset and crying and shaking; her mother took her to the hospital to be evaluated. The hospital staff did their very best to blow off both daughter and mother, no exam was done, no charges were pressed. The daughter learned to keep quiet about it, no one wants to hear or know. She thinks it's her fault for allowing it to happen.

A 14 year old girl is visiting relatives in another state. Her aunt and uncle take her out to dinner to a fancy restaurant. She feels special and grown up. During the meal she goes to the bathroom by herself and when she comes out her uncle is waiting for her. He suggests she go with him to the parking lot to get her aunt's purse. Out in the dark parking lot with no one around he grabs her and tries to kiss her and pins her to the car. She wiggles free and runs back into the restaurant. At the table her aunt smiles at her and asks if she is having fun. How can she tell her aunt that her husband has just tried to fondle her? She says nothing. To no one. Until she is an old woman and confides in a friend.

In a new country with new cultures and new friends a 16 year old girl has a boyfriend that is a popular athlete and student in the high school. She feels lucky to have him, partly because he continually tells her how lucky she is to have him. Years later her therapist explains the term gas-lighting to her and she understands that she had been in an emotionally abusive relationship. During their two years together he coerced her into having sex with, questioning her commitment, her love and that she should prove her commitment to him by sleeping with him. He frequently fondled her publicly saying it was his right as her boyfriend. She never told anyone because he was a popular athlete and she was... well, she was just an average girl that would be nowhere if it wasn't for him. Years later a friend told her, "You need to get over that, I mean how long are you going to carry that around? Gees, it's not like he raped you." She worked through it with a therapist and now helps young girls in counseling.

Sometimes there isn't even contact for a man to make a woman feel violated. We can walk into a room, walk down a street, get coffee in the employee lunch room and a man can talk to us like we are only there for his viewing pleasure. If we complain, we are told we are 'too sensitive', 'over-reacting' or 'imagining it'. If we go to HR we are frequently asked, "Is this something you really want to pursue? He will have to receive a written reprimand and it will go into his file. Are you sure this is was really what happened?" Many women feel pressured to not pursue anything.

These are the kinds of stories that haunt some women. Some can just push them aside and not be affected by them. Some are deeply affected and need counseling. Some are affected and function but have difficulty in certain social situations. Many continue to be mocked. When a man approaches a women with a painful memory her lack of response may be a result of these kinds of past experiences. When you tell her she is being rude you may be adding to the painful memory. You don't know and she shouldn't have to justify her actions to you. Chalk it up to a difference of personality and move on. One day when we live in a culture that takes women seriously when they talk about sexual, emotional and physical abuse then we can all feel safe meeting strangers. Until we can all agree on what is an acceptable way to discuss and treat women and we can all agree that it isn't 'just locker room talk' or that 'being fondled isn't better than rape' we are going to have to agree to different levels of what we think is 'just being friendly'. We don't know if you are just being a friendly guy and that you are genuinely pleasant and sociable, so we error on the side of caution. We don't know if by returning your hello and smiling at you are interpreting it as a come on so we don't take a chance.

I wrote this to help people understand what it is like to be the victim of a predator. I wrote this before the election. Now we have a predator in the White House and if you aren't concerned I worry for you, but mostly I worry for our daughters.

Recently a young woman, Brittany "Bree" Newsome, climbed a flag pole. She felt inspired to do so because of a series of events that gave her the confidence and the sense of 'the time is right'. Quite an heroic act especially since she was arrested, which is intimidating for most of us. What is it that makes us come out of our shell to do inspirational things? Pitching a baseball for a few million doesn't require the same kind of motivation. It's much easier to practice a profession when one is highly rewarded such as politicians, celebrities and executives are. It is when we act without reward, when we do something for the betterment of another human without the promise of reward that we become heroic. Our local news often high lights a story about just such people and it is my favorite part of the news. It reminds me that the world is still full of exceptional people, many that we will never know or read their biography. It is important to learn of these people and share their stories because it helps inspire us so that when we are tested we may find the courage to act heroically.

For a long time I have collected stories from people I know about their life experiences, in particular, heroic experiences, often they had no idea they were being heroic. They were just doing what they thought was right at the time. I call them Little Heroes. It has nothing to do with home runs, profits made or structures built. These are people no one hears about they just go about the business of life, quietly and unobtrusively.

My great grandmother was one of these people. She was the post mistress of her little town, not because she was trying to make a statement about equal rights for women in a small rural town in 1930's Manitoba, but because she saw a need and filled it. One of her daughters operated the town's credit union. She saw what her mother had done and just assumed she could do the job and did it. People like this are heroes because they don't do something for the glory or the adoration of the public but because they step in when they see a need and fill it. Sometimes a hero is someone who enters a burning building to rescue someone but sometimes a hero is someone who steps up and does a job without worrying about if they should or if it's politically correct- they simply step in and quietly get a job done without fanfare. Often the job isn't glamorous or lucrative.

Another woman I know was a young mother in Latvia as the country was being invaded during WWII. Her story stays with me and when I tell it I get choked up and tears come to my eyes. I ask myself, "What would I have done? Would I have made the same sacrifice?" I am not sure we can answer until we are faced with such a serious threat. er story stays with me even though she has passed.Her husband had already been dragged away from their home and imprisoned because he was educated and knew two languages so it was assumed he was a spy and was sent to a POW camp. She did not hear about him until the 1990's when the Russian government released old documents. He had died in a concentration camp. As the Russian invasion was imminent the people of Riga packed a bag. Yes, a single bag because they didn't have time for anything else. The train station was about to be invaded and trains were leaving, people were scrambling to get on the train and out of harm's way. She had an 8 year old boy and a 10 year old daughter. The trains were so packed with people it was hard to find even standing room or get on board. People were crammed into the cars, standing room only was an exaggeration. After a brief moment of thought she literally threw her children up on to some people on the train and into the arms of strangers. The train started moving before she could climb aboard. Her children thought it was going to be the last time they saw their mother. They were alone in a packed train heading to places unknown. Alone. Meanwhile she had run to the back of the train and jumped onto the last car. She scraped and shoved and scrambled until hours later she was able to reconnect with her children. What went through her mind at that time? What were those frightened children thinking? They had already lost their father and home. People can pull from a reserve of strength that we don't even know we have until we are tested, that is where heroism is born. We see something bigger and more important than ourselves. The only reward she had was- life. The life of her children and herself.

Years ago I worked with a lovely young Vietnamese woman. I had heard about 'the boat people of Viet Nam' but had never met anyone who had come to America that way. As we became friends I asked her how she came to be living in the US. She told me that when she was 14 and her sister was 13 her parents scraped together their savings and paid a man who put them on a boat to the United States. She was a 'boat person'! I was curious and asked her more about her experience. Here was a successful, happily married young woman with a nice husband and children. I wanted to know more about her. How had she managed? I was amazed at the living conditions that would induce a woman to place her children on a boat and ship them to another country. Alone. As the mother of 3 young children at the time I thought things would have to be really horrible for me to ship my children off like that. She didn't see her parents again for 30 years after she left Viet Nam. She said that as the end of the war became apparent her parents worried about what would become of them and had heard about some who were leaving the country on boats to Australia and the US. It cost a lot of money. Similar to the Syrian refugees arriving on Greek shores. How deep does one's despair have to be that one would willingly place their children in a dangerous situation because the situation they are in is even more dangerous? Such a brave sacrifice and what faith they are placing in humanity to take care of their children. Hard to compare to the image of a man paid a lot of money to throw a football.

When my father was 5, his father died, leaving his mother alone with 5 children and a farm. Unfortunately, the farm was going to be taken away from her because she a woman and not allowed to own property in her own name. She asked questions and studied alternatives and decided that she would speak to her elected official 1500 miles away. Leaving her children alone with relatives she boarded a train to Ottawa to meet with the political leader of her town. At first he would not see her but she persisted. Grudgingly, he met her and was so impressed with her tenacity that she was able to convince him keeping the farm would enable her to raise her children and not force them to become dependent on the government. All of her children grew into fully independent, self-supporting adults. Perhaps because of the role model of a woman who did not take no for an answer.

That is what heroes do for us. They show us that we can overcome obstacles, achieve goals. They prove to us that we can dream and hope. Heroes are in our everyday lives, working next to us. They are our neighbors. They are our family and friends. When we think situations are too difficult we can remember the person we knew that did something special even when others told them no. Right now the voice of NO is very loud. NO is on TV, social media, in the work place, on the streets, even within our own families. The world seems like it is slipping back and the majority of people have to work for nothing. It hasn't always been this way. It won't always be this way. Because there are always those who don't stop. Those who plod on despite setbacks. An accumulation of everyday heroes can inspire us to try harder. Look for them, they are probably right next to you.

"Never believe that a few caring people can't change the world. For, indeed, that's all who ever have." Margaret Mead