When your actions are good, truthful, and pure, you don’t need acknowledgment or praise. If you know what you are doing is right (without harming someone else)—that’s freedom.

You get to be responsible for your actions. All of them.

It’s inevitable that you will make choices in life, it’s part of the human condition. Some of those choices will have perceived goodness and some won’t. Your bad choices don’t make you a bad person nor do your good choices make you a good person.

Sometimes we choose to label people as “bad” or “good” based on their actions, because humans like categorization (think of the layout of our grocery stores, the different “types” of careers we can choose, the genres of books we read, etc.). We hear and say things like: ”Oh yes, he’s a good father.” “She’s a bad communicator.” “They are bad people.”

When I see something I disagree with or am hurt by, I have to remind myself that a person is not their actions. When I have a fight with my sister, I still love her deeply. When a friend doesn’t call me back, I don’t assume they don’t care about our friendship. When a stranger says something hurtful, I find forgiveness and patience. I remind myself in each of these situations that my personal life experiences have shaped what I believe is good—as do theirs.

It’s hard to love people when we disagree. It’s especially difficult to love when we witness or are victims of actions that we deem unlovable, painful, or ugly.

Right now, I see a lot of anger, confusion, miscommunication, and upset within the communities I am a part of. It saddens me. I sincerely wish I could make it all better. Though I know I can’t, I do want to do my part.

Tonight, I was out on my bike, alone. I was doing a casual ride around Lake Hefner, a place I often visit when I ride solo. It’s usually uneventful and peaceful. I am always happy when I am on my bike and so I was chilling as I cruised around the perimeter of the lake.

Unfortunately, this evening was a little atypical. There’s a stretch of road shared by bikers, runners, and cars. When I reached that section, a car came up behind me. I moved to the side in order to let them pass.

Instead of passing, the car rolled up and drifted close beside me.

Two men, each around 30 years old, were inside the car. The one in the passenger seat rolled down the window and stuck his hand out to touch me. He grabbed my bike shorts and pressed into my flesh and muscle underneath.

It was only for a moment and then they drove away, smiling. The guy stuck his head out the window and gave me a thumbs up. A gesture I could only shake my head in disgust to. I thought—did that really just happen? I can still feel where he touched me and I’d like to shower again, despite bathing as soon as I got home.

Some people would have flipped them off, called the police, yelled. I don’t know, exactly. What would you do?

I know this choice wouldn’t be advisable for all situations. Because I was in an area where others were present and frequently passing by, I felt brave enough to confront the men.

I decided to catch up with them and have a conversation.

When I reached them, a couple of minutes after the initial encounter, they had parked their car and were looking out at the water.

I slowed my bike to a stop, looked the man who touched me straight in the eyes, and said in a calm and firm voice “Excuse me, don’t ever do that again.”

His friend said “What did he do?” and I replied “You both know exactly what he did and you should know that it’s unacceptable behavior. There is enough hurt in this world right now. YOU do not need to add to it. Touching me like that is harmful. Don’t be responsible for making this a scary place to be.”

I kept going on my rant with as much kindness and empathy as I could muster.

I think the men were 1. Shocked that I was talking to them and 2. Felt incredibly embarassed.

At first they both just stared at me, flustered. The guy apologized profusely, claiming it was a dare. I told him to rethink the dares he chooses to engage in because there is no reason—dare or not—that he should participate in that type of behavior.

He reached out to shake my hand. I told him, “I am not going to shake your hand. I don’t want you to touch me. I want you to remember this moment.”

He looked as if he was going to cry. I will note, this was a peculiar sight given his trucker cap that read “BADASS” across the front.

I decided I had made my point. I reminded him one last time to think about what he’s doing and pressed into my pedals to continue my ride. I felt violated and sickened. I also felt the strength and courage of other individuals who have been in this situation (and worse) before.

I recognize that not everyone has the capacity to handle situations like the above in the same way. I also know that the following thoughts may be controversial, but they are important to me.

If we can separate action from individual and choose to care for people with fierce bravery, I think we’d more effectively manage the difficult circumstances we have to deal with.

I am SORRY that those men grew up in a world allowing them to believe that they can touch someone like he touched me without any consequence.

My body does not become a public object simply by entering a public space. Nor does yours, regardless of your gender or any other factor of your identity.

I am frustrated with the actions of those two. One committed the act. The other encouraged it. It was wrong.

I don’t think they are bad people.

I chose to handle it in the way I did because I wanted them to recognize my humanity. I think the secret to real goodness is that: recognizing the humanity within yourself and surrounding you.

I encourage you to choose wisely and find the best within yourself.

With my love and wishful thinking for a better future,

P