I used to view public spaces as content farms – until the day my own thoughtlessness came back to bite me. Literally. After mocking a tired mom at the grocery store (complete with judgy hashtags), I found myself bleeding in her ER hours later.
The universe has a wicked sense of humor. There she stood – not the slouched figure from my post, but a composed healthcare worker deciding how quickly to treat the person who’d humiliated her online. The lesson sank in deeper than my kitchen knife had.
My public apology post became something unexpected: a collective reckoning about how we treat strangers. Hundreds responded with their own “I wish I hadn’t posted that” stories. And when we eventually met at a coffee shop, her quiet grace – “Most of us aren’t okay” – stuck with me more than any viral tweet ever could.
Now I practice what I call “digital hesitation” – that pause between seeing and sharing. Because everyone you photograph without consent has a story, and someday you might desperately need their help telling yours.
