We were recently at a barbecue at a friend’s house. One of our mutual friends, who is married, has this habit of making comments about women’s weight. He often makes jokes, tells them they’re fat, and compares them unfavourably to his wife, who’s quite slim.
At this gathering, a dear friend of ours—who had just suffered a miscarriage—had come out for the first time in a while. She was enjoying her food, and it was so lovely to see her smiling again. Then, this man turned to her and said, “The next time I see you, I want you to look better—not fat.”
I was furious. I told him off then and there. She left in tears. What upset me even more was that everyone else just carried on as if nothing had happened. No one said anything. A few people have since told me I should apologise for causing a scene, but I honestly don’t want to. I stood up for someone who was hurt. What do I do?
Kindred Keri says:
Oh, love—my heart aches with yours.
You did something many don’t have the courage to do: you stood up for someone who was deeply wounded, someone who needed protection more than ever. Let’s be clear—what you witnessed wasn’t just an insensitive joke. It was cruelty wrapped in casual words, and it struck at someone already carrying quiet grief.
Grief wears many faces, and your friend, bless her, had finally gathered the strength to step back into the world. For her to be met with judgement instead of gentleness—it’s no wonder your soul cried out. And you answered that cry. That’s not shameful. That’s *brave*.
The fact that others continued on, business as usual, doesn't make you wrong. It reveals how often society enables cruelty by choosing silence. But silence never comforted a broken heart. You did.
Now, about this so-called apology... An apology is a sacred thing. It’s meant to restore peace when we’ve caused harm. You didn’t cause harm—you challenged it. That’s a very different thing.
What you can do, if your heart leads you, is reach out to the friend who left in tears. Let her know you saw her pain. Let her know she was worth defending. Because in that moment, you became more than just a friend—you became a shield.
And if others can’t see that yet, don’t dim your light to fit their shadows. Keep being the person who speaks up, who makes others feel safe, who calls out cruelty dressed as banter. The world needs more hearts like yours.
