I was walking along the river when I heard what sounded like an animal in distress. It was a high-pitched rhythmic noise. I couldn’t place where it was coming from. The water was flat, the sidewalk empty, and not even the wind was enough to shake the branches.
Then I heard it again.
This time, looking down, I saw it.
This is that story.
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Bug: Ouch, fuck!
Me: Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to step on you Bug. I didn’t even see you there.
Bug: You broke my leg.
Me: I’m sorry, I didn’t even see you there.
Bug: I can’t walk.
Me: What about flying? Can you still fly? Are your win-
Bug: Let me try.
(Bug tries flying)
Bug: Can’t fly.
Me: Want me to call an ambulance?
Bug: No. I don’t have health insurance. I’ll call Mark.
Me: Who is Mark?
Bug: Another bug.
Me: Ok, I’ll wait here with you.
(Bug calls Mark)
Mark: Buzzidy buzz buzz it’s Mark, what can I do ya for?
Bug: Mark, it’s Bug, a human stepped on me and broke my leg, can you come help?
Mark: Yes. Where are you?
Bug: By the river. I can’t fly either, you may need to bring S.
Mark: We’ll be right there.
Me: Who’s S?
Bug: The Swarm. They’re coming.
Me: What does that mean? You know I didn’t mean to hurt you right? Why does the swarm need to co-
Bug: To carry me home. This isn’t about you.
(Bug and I wait in silence for 4 minutes)
Me: You know Bug, I really am sorry.
Bug: Yep.
Me: No really, I am, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to step on you.
Bug: Sorry doesn’t mean shit. And I love shit.
Me: What do you mean?
Bug: You say sorry to me today, but you’ll probably step on another bug tomorrow, or even later today. You’ll probably kill hundreds of bugs in your life.
Me: No I won’t.
Bug: Show me the bottom of your shoe.
(I turn over my shoe)
Bug: Oh my god, you’re a fucking mass murderer.
Me: Wait, wait, no what?
Bug: These are fresh kills too! You literally killed 4 bugs this morning. Look at the crevices in the outsole of your shoe.
Me: I’m so sorry
Bug: I told you, sorry doesn’t mean shit.
Me: But I am! I’m sorry!
Bug: What does sorry mean to you?
Me: It means I apologize for injuring you!
Bug: And?
Me: And what?
Bug: And what about the other bugs before me? And the ones that will come after me?
Sorry means nothing to me.
It may make you feel good. You may even think that by saying it everything is ok but sorry is just a comfort awarded to yourself that gives you permission to keep repeating the same actions without change or consequence.
Does your sorry mean that you are going to start walking cautiously? I doubt it. That you are going to set up traffic cones and post signs here asking your peers to walk cautiously? No, you won’t, because you’re a human. The only apology worth considering accepting is one that recognizes what is wrong, presents a genuinely authentic agreement not to repeat, asks what one can do to repair their wrongdoing, and then offers space for others to fully express themselves.
So, no I don’t accept your apology.
Me: I never thought of it that way.
Bug: Of course, you didn’t. You’re a HuMmAaNnN. You’re incapable of doing that. We’ve watched you for thousands of years.
(I look down and inhale through my nostrils)
Bug: And the toughest part is that I recognize that you don’t know better. That you’re actually doing the best you can with the information you have. The real tragedy here is not my leg, it’s your species’ general lack of curiosity.
Me: Well Bug, I still am sorry. I recognize that today, and all days before, I’ve been walking carelessly, and I mean it when I say I will commit to being more careful when I walk so I don’t hurt you or any more bugs. And, as we wait for Mark and the Swarm to come, I’m going to go sit on that bench to give you some space. Before I do, is there anything else I can do?
Bug: Nice try.
Me: Bug, c’mon, I’ve apologized like 6 times. I’ve even checked off all the requirements you just told me. I think you should be a little more reasonable.
Bug: First off, you don’t get to decide if and when I forgive you. Second, I won’t know if you’re for real for at least a few months, only then will I be able to see if you actually change your behavior. And third, do you kill mosquitoes?
Me: What?
Bug: Do you kill mosquitoes?
Me: I mean, I shoo them away?
Bug: So, you don’t kill them?
Me: No, not intentionally.
Bug: So you do kill mosquitoes?
Me: Okay, yes, I have. Sometimes. They can carry diseases!
Bug: YOU CARRY DISEASES! AHHHHHHHHHH FUCKKKKING CHRIST HUMAN!!!!!!
Me: What?!
Bug: Have you ever thought that this is about something more than me, or you, or me and you, or me you and the other bugs that look like me?
Your new apology, which I get you’re trying, is still so short of enough.
This is about all of us. It’s about mosquitoes, bees, fruit flies, cockroaches, deer, cows, quail, flowers, trees, and people. It’s about everything.
All your apology did was confirm your hierarchy above others and open a seat for me and the bugs that look like me. But only us. It was an apology that continued to protect and prioritize you and extended those same protections to me and the bugs, but no one else.
Allowing others the same luxuries, comforts, and privileges afforded to you, won’t threaten yours. Rather than extend invites to an elite club, try expanding your empathy.
Me: Okay, well I commit to protecting mosquitoes, bees, fruit flies, cockroaches, deer, cows, quail, flowers, trees, and people too.
(Bug puts head in wings and shakes it in disappointment)
Bug: You don’t get it.
Every week, we watch you. Week after week, a new shiny cause to care about and correct comes and captures your attention. You get loud, say you’ll change, but don’t actually introduce any individual change, and then forget about it after a week.
Why? Because truly changing may require each of you to eliminate some comforts you feel entitled to. It may mean that others begin to benefit before or at the same time as you. It may even mean that you are inconvenienced so a larger group can gain access to what you’ve had all along.
Imagine not being able to walk along the river so millions of bugs could live.
Have you ever thought about the destruction your convenience causes, or the benefit that could come from choosing slight inconveniences?
I don’t just want us bugs to be protected, everything and everyone deserves that same treatment. It’s not just about being better to your friends and shitty to those you’ve yet to meet.
(Mark arrives with Swarm)
Mark: This the fuckity fuck head who stepped on you?
Bug: Yeah.
Mark: Swarm, activate operation kneecap!
Bug: No no! Mark, stop! He didn’t know better. He wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt me. He’s just like every other human, oblivious to anything outside of themselves. I may be injured, but I’ll heal. I actually just really feel sorry for him. Let’s go.
Mark: Stand down swarm!
Bug: Go home Human.
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A Ricki is a digital diary entry. They’re narrations that document the details and capture the admiration I hold for the world as I experience it. They’re my imagination. They’re meant to take minutes to read, but days to digest.