Stuff Brittney Says: People always ask me, "What are you?" Spanish? Italian? Hawaiian? Persian? Armenian? Puerto Rican? Albino Jamaican? ... I'm human, does it matter?

A Love Letter to the Haters

June 4th, 2012

Haters. We all have them. With what I do, I have a whole rolodex of them … but that doesn’t mean I have to call on them.

I never read comments on my blogs and articles published on-line, anymore. Yet, people will make verbal comments such as the other day following my recently published article in the Charlotte Observer. Someone walked up to me and said “Don’t pay attention to those mean comments. They were really tearing you up.”

Well, I wasn’t paying attention until you brought it to mine, thank you (not) very much. … why would someone do that anyway? That’s almost a passive aggressive insult!

Anyway, a few years and articles ago, I would have felt compelled to go see what people were saying about me. But I learned my lesson. Back in 2009 someone put something up about me on The Dirty.com. So naturally, I went to go read all the comments. I was happily surprised the majority of the comments were defending me. But like it really matters because you can get 5 compliments and only hear the one insult.

My good guy friend Drew let me know he was disappointed in me for reading the comments. Caring what other people think (good or bad) shows a lack of confidence, seeking it from without rather than within. He was so right; other people’s acceptance is irrelevant if you accept yourself.

Throughout my years working in the media I’ve read that I’ve got thunder thighs, I’m a talentless hack, I’m packing on the lbs, I am fake, I’m a racer chaser, I’m stupid, I look like Snooki, I’m a troll, I sleep my way into jobs …

All coming from people who have never so much as met me — let alone had I done something to them.

I could bark back and say, “Glad you have dial-up Internet in your parent’s basement” …but that would just put me on their level. I really just want to give them a hug.

Because haters are just people who need love. And Jesus.

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