Empathy as a Shield

Hero Image by Nik on Unsplash

Do you ever run into one of those clown-ass lifted trucks, barreling down the road with aggressive swagger? The kind with “Glock” and “Don’t Tread on Me” stickers, maybe a thin blue line flag—jacked up so high the owner probably needs a ladder to climb in. So practical. So battle-ready. And of course, spotless—a truck that’s never hauled anything heavier than its owner’s ego. *sarcastic eye roll*

Then comes the instant irony: “Back the Blue” while driving like a sociopathic maniac. It fries your brain. “Wait—if these people worship law enforcement, why don’t they follow the law to the letter? Why do they drive like wannabe terrorists?”

Or picture yourself at the beach, at a quiet hiking trail, and someone—a fellow Hispanic probably—starts blasting music you didn’t ask for and don’t want. “For fuck’s sake… how can one be so selfish or clueless?” And off the mind goes.

The smallest signs of perceived arrogance or carelessness could send me spiraling. Five minutes gone, easy—thinking about cults, politics, weak men compensating, disrespect, the decay of humanity, whatever. My body tightens, my mind churns, and then the realization: this is poison. Literal poison. Even if I’m “right,” I’m still wrong, because I just wasted energy I’ll never get back.

The problem wasn’t the truck, or the guy, or the noise. The problem was me—bleeding life on shit I couldn’t control. That’s when empathy stopped being “soft” and started looking like armor.

Flip it: maybe you’re the one sneering at a Prius covered in peace-and-love stickers, role-playing Punisher 3.0 in your head. Same spiral, just inverted. (And let’s be real, Frank Castle would look at our cosplay rage and possibly tell us to grow the fuck up. Then he’d walk off without a second thought.)

Point is: We’ve all been there. But we don’t have to stay there.

Empathy as Armor

Empathy doesn’t mean agreeing, excusing, or endorsing. It means not letting strangers hijack your brain. That’s it. The lifted truck, the Prius, the 2 a.m. mumble rap—none of it has to pierce your peace.

Empathy reframes. Instead of villains or masterminds of vulgar idiocy out to ruin your day, you see humans shaped by circumstances you’ll never know. Empathy doesn’t excuse them—it just keeps us from bleeding out on BS we can’t cash in.

Judgment is expensive. It burns energy like jet fuel. It hands control of your mood to people you’ll never see again. Think about how insane that is—you’re letting some random stranger in a truck dictate your state for the next hour. That’s not justice. That’s self-sabotage.

Who made me judge, jury, executioner? Nobody. And every time I swing that hammer, I’m burning my own fuel.

Empathy, then, is frugality for the soul. Not surrender—protection. Soft without breaking. Absorbing without being pierced.

Judgment sets you on fire. Empathy makes you fireproof.

Bias: The Hidden Fuel

Here’s the kicker—those spirals, those “WTF is wrong with people?” moments? They’re just bias putting on costumes.

Bias isn’t academic—it’s primal. Conscious bias is when you know you’re judging, like deciding the guy in the lifted truck is compensating for something. Unconscious bias is sneakier—it’s the knee-jerk reaction, the irritation that hits before you even notice it.

And when empathy drops out, bias goes full display. We stop seeing humans and start seeing enemies. Not neighbors. Not fellow men. Just villains in our own cheap little drama.

So let’s call it:

• Bias = the brain’s lazy filter, distorting reality.
• Judgment = swinging that filter like a hammer.
• Empathy = the countermeasure. The extinguisher. The reminder: “I don’t know their story—and I don’t need to.”

Without empathy, bias weaponizes judgment. And then we’re not just wasting energy—we’re wounding each other.

Marcus Aurelius said: “You have power over your mind — not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

You have power over your mind — not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.

Modern translation? Stop letting clowns in traffic and randos at the beach hijack your peace.

Bias will always flare up. Judgment will always tempt. But empathy—that’s the armor. That’s how you walk through lifted trucks, blasting speakers, and clown-world nonsense without burning alive.

You don’t win by burning hotter. You win by refusing to burn at all.

Empathy makes you fireproof.