The ice in the glass of lukewarm ginger ale rattles against the sides with a rhythm that feels like a judgment. I am sitting at the far end of the mahogany dining table, the one my aunt insists on polishing until it reflects the overhead chandelier like a dark, polished pond. My left hand is wrapped in a compression sleeve that looks like a second, tighter skin, and my right hand is struggling to hold a fork without trembling. It is a family gathering, the kind where the air is thick with the smell of rosemary chicken and the unspoken expectations of three generations. Then, it happens. A well-meaning cousin leans over, his voice dropping an octave as if he is sharing a secret he found in the basement of a courthouse. ‘You’re not going to become one of those people who sues for everything, are you? You know, the jackpot justice types?’
A hot flush of shame crawls up my neck, stinging worse than the nerve damage in my wrist. Just 17 days ago, a surgeon was digging through my carpal tunnel to repair what a distracted delivery driver broke when he jumped a curb. I am 47 years old, and for the first time in my life, I cannot pick up a 1937 Parker Vacumatic-the kind of fountain pen that requires a steady hand and a soul for precision-to repair its delicate breather tube. My livelihood as a pen specialist is suspended over a canyon of medical bills and lost contracts, yet here I am, feeling like a thief because I might ask for what is fair.
Internalized pressure to accept harm quietly.
The physical cost of a preventable error.
The Corporate Story: Turning Victims into Villains
This shame is not an accident. It is a finely tuned instrument of corporate storytelling, a melody hummed so frequently that we have forgotten who composed it. For the better part of 37 years, a massive, well-funded PR machine has been at work, transforming the victim into the villain. They have convinced us that seeking accountability is a form of greed, that the courtroom is a casino, and that the ‘frivolous lawsuit’ is a plague on the American spirit. But when you look closer, the plague isn’t the lawsuit; it’s the systemic delegitimization of human suffering in favor of corporate quarterly reports.
The Caricature of Justice
(The story they told)
(The context they omitted)
They sold us a caricature of justice so that they could protect the bottom line of insurance giants who see a paralyzed worker as a line item to be minimized.
The Tension of Justice: Pen Nibs and Legal Necessity
I’ve spent 27 years repairing pens, a job that requires me to understand the tension between the nib and the paper. If the tension is too high, the paper tears. If it is too low, the ink doesn’t flow. Justice is the same way. We need that tension to keep society functioning.
The reality that strips ‘frivolous’ of all meaning.
Without the threat of a lawsuit, safety is merely a suggestion. When you hire siben & siben personal injury attorneys, you aren’t just looking for a check; you are looking for someone to stand in the gap and say, ‘This happened. It wasn’t your fault. And you deserve to be made whole.’
Whose Property Is Sacred?
There is a strange contradiction in how we view corporate rights versus individual rights. If a company’s patent is infringed upon, we expect them to sue for every penny. We call it ‘protecting their intellectual property.’ But when a person’s physical body-their only true property-is infringed upon by negligence, we tell them to be humble.
The Leaking Barrel of Guilt
Guilt
Symptom of a sick culture.
Privilege
Those judging are sheltered.
Demand
Accountability is non-negotiable.
I realized that my guilt was a symptom of a sick culture, not a sign of my own character. They were speaking from a place of privilege, sheltered by the very propaganda that seeks to leave them vulnerable if their own luck ever runs out.
Refusing to Be an Inconvenience
As I sit here now, looking at my trembling hand, I decide to let the shame go. I think about that ex’s photo I liked-that tiny, insignificant error-and I realize how much energy I spend trying to appear perfect, trying to appear ‘no-maintenance.’ But I am not a machine. I am a person who was hurt, and I am a person who deserves to be repaired. Justice isn’t a dirty word. It is the mechanism by which we tell the powerful that they cannot break us with impunity.
Reclaiming Self-Worth
Dignity Restoration Progress
95%
Dexterity will return slowly, but self-worth is immediate.
I will fix my pens, one shaky stroke at a time, and I will let the lawyers handle the giants. Because at the end of the day, a society that shames its victims is a society that has already surrendered its soul to the highest bidder. And I, for one, am not for sale.