I always have had difficulty with a deft comeback comment when someone may teasingly or not so teasingly slight me. It takes an extremely fast mind to react to an insult and score points in a verbal joust. Winston Churchill had that rare ability. In an exchange between him and Lady Astor: She said, “If you were my husband, I’d give you poison,” and he replied, “If you were my wife, I’d drink it.” Comedians are highly skilled at quick riposte. An example of this occurred during the Oscars when the actor, Will Smith, fell prey to the comedian, Chris Rock. Rather than engage with Mr. Rock verbally, Smith lost his cool and got physical with Rock resulting in him hurting his reputation, in addition to losing the privilege to attend future events sponsored by the Academy of Motion Pictures. Quite a price to pay, especially, after he received an Oscar for Best Actor in the film King Richard.
In an earlier blog, I related that Arthur Kovacs, both a therapist and mentor of mine, once told me that my fault was not one of commission but rather one of omission. In situations where I may have found myself in need of defending myself, not wanting to risk ruffling someone else’s feathers, I would say nothing. Sometimes the simplest response of not responding at all can reinforce rather than end an ugly confrontation with another person.
During my first week of my Psychology Internship in Orange County, California, I met Tom, also an intern with whom I shared an office. We introduced each other, and soon, we appeared to have established a friendly working relationship. I told him I was finishing up at Rutgers University; he said he was at Fuller Theological Seminary where he was completing his doctoral work. Additionally, he spent some of his time performing the duties as a Lutheran minister. When he asked, I told him I was of the Jewish faith which he appeared to accept without further question. At the end of the first, we had talked about some of the struggles we each faced as graduate students in psychology. This helped us establish a mutual understanding that strengthened our bond. I believed we had enough in common to not only be co-interns but also to become good friends.
After a few days of orientation in which we both learned about our job functions, we began to meet other staff members of the clinic. I experienced nothing less than shock when Tom introduced me to the group by saying: “This is Bern, the Jew from Rutgers.” As I was left speechless, people looked at me, somewhat uncomfortably, not knowing what to say. His comment felt as if I had been stabbed in the back by a dear friend. Until the moment he uttered that ugly phrase, The Jew from Rutgers, I very much had resonated with Tom. I had thought we were heading toward a close relationship having shared some mutual experiences vis-a-vis the hurdles we had overcome to be where we presently were.
Rather than react, I ignored what Tom had said with the naïve hope his comment merely had been an aberration, and not the Tom I had befriended during those first few days at the clinic. I quickly learned that this was not to be the case inasmuch as soon after, once more, he presented me as “The Jew from Rutgers.” Again, the staff members looked at me uneasily not knowing how to react. On this second occasion, I took Tom aside and told him I did not appreciate him labeling me in the manner he had done. His reply was “isn’t that who you are? Are you ashamed of who you are?” When I told him I was not ashamed of my identity, he countered by telling me then I shouldn’t mind being identified by who I was.
On another occasion, when Tom ignored my objections, I shot back: “Here’s Tom the WASP from Fuller.” When I said this, I observed that those workers we met showed little, if any reaction. Moreover, the remark that I had made did not put an end to Tom’s blatant disregard of me evidenced by the manner in which he continually addressed me to staff.
Totally frustrated and extremely annoyed, I spoke to my older brother, Benj, who had a reputation for leading with his jaw. He told me not to refer to Tom as the WASP from Fuller but rather as the Kraut from Fuller. After some thought, I realized that calling Tom the WASP from Fuller, in the setting we were in, was similar to Tom calling me the Jew from Rutgers if our internship had been at Hebrew University. That is to say that many of the staff members would pretty much fit into the category of WASP just as the personnel at Hebrew University would be predominantly Jewish.
I now felt armed. Recognizing that my brother had hit on a more direct and individualized confronatation, the next time Tom and I met a new group of employees at the clinic, not giving Tom a chance to speak, I chanted loudly: “Here’s Tom, the Kraut from Fuller.” Upon hearing this, the staff members started laughing. Because I had no idea how they would react to my statement, their response came as a great relief to me. Tom’s face reddened revealing his embarrassment and, he remained silent. Never again did he address me as the “Jew from Rutgers.”
I learned that ignoring obnoxious behavior may not resolve awkward unpleasant circumstances in which you find yourself the target. Furthermore, polite assertions such as my telling Tom to stop labeling me the way he was, also may not be effective. I knew that Tom’s use of the word Jew, when referring to me, was not meant as a compliment. Some situations, similar to the one I was in with Tom, require a counter punch harder than that thrown by one’s opponent. I accomplished this by labeling Tom a Kraut, a derogatory term for a person of German ancestry. That our co-workers found my assertion about Tom amusing added to the impact it had on Tom and, my pleasure at seeing him squirm.
Dr. Bernard F. Natelson 