How one casual phrase turned into a reminder that decency takes effort.

The other day, I used the phrase “bad juju” in a casual conversation.

I meant exactly what most people mean when they say it – bad vibes, bad luck, something feels off. Nothing serious, nothing targeted, nothing with any real weight behind it in the moment.

And then, almost immediately, I had the thought: Wait. Is that offensive?

That question has become weirdly familiar to me.

Not because “bad juju” is some giant, flashing red-light phrase on the level of an obvious slur. It isn’t. Most people would hear it and keep moving without a second thought. But it does come from an actual cultural and spiritual context, and once I realized that, I found myself thinking, Okay. Maybe this is one of those things I should phase out of my personal lexicon.

Not because I’m terrified of being canceled by the phrase police or whatever nonsense people say when they’re looking for an excuse not to care.

Just because I’m trying.

And the more I try, the more I understand something that feels uncomfortable to say out loud:

I understand why racists and bigots exist.

Not because they’re right.
Not because there’s anything morally defensible about it.
Not because I have any sympathy at all for cruelty, dehumanization, or laziness disguised as conviction.

I understand it because it’s easier.

It is so much easier to never stop and ask, Should I be saying that?
It is easier to assume your intent is all that matters.
It is easier to decide that if you didn’t mean harm, then no reflection is required.
It is easier to treat other people’s discomfort as oversensitivity and your own habits as neutral.

It is easier to care only about your own comfort and call that common sense.

Trying to be a good person – especially if you belong to a group that has historically had the luxury of not thinking too hard about these things – takes actual effort.

It takes paying attention.
It takes humility.
It takes the ability to ask a question without immediately getting defensive about the answer.
It takes being willing to hear, “Hey, maybe that has more baggage than you realized,” and not turn it into a courtroom drama about your intentions.

And once you start actually trying, you notice the pitfalls are everywhere.

You say something you’ve heard your whole life and find out it has a history.
You use a phrase casually and realize it comes from a context you never bothered to learn.
You start understanding that thoughtfulness is not a destination. It’s not a medal you earn and wear forever. It’s a practice. A choice you keep making, over and over.

That can be exhausting.

There are absolutely moments where I think, Yeah, I get why some people just opt out of this entirely. Not because that’s respectable, but because selfishness has always been the easier path. It takes no effort to dismiss people. It takes no effort to refuse nuance. It takes no effort to decide that anyone asking for care, context, or consideration is simply asking too much.

But that doesn’t make opting out noble. It just makes it lazy.

And for me, it’s still worth the effort to not be a shitbag.

That’s really what this comes down to.

The goal is not perfection. I’m not trying to become some flawlessly enlightened person who never misspeaks, never misses context, never has to rethink anything. That person does not exist. The goal is to stay reachable. To notice. To care. To adjust. To repeat.

That’s it.

That’s the work.

And honestly, I’d rather occasionally feel awkward because I’m trying than stay comfortable by deciding other people’s experiences are not worth the inconvenience.

Being better is harder.

It’s also better.

Keep learning…especially about yourself.

Stay safe,

DBD/DBAD/DFTBA

-Amos