Words are powerful. Anyone who’s been emotionally scarred by thoughtless or harsh words from parents, partners, or other loved ones—which is basically all of us—knows this. So does Taira, an insecure and habitually worried character from You and I Are Polar Opposites. Hurtful comments from past classmates have left him a ball of anxious insecurity, overly concerned about what others think of him. His anxiety initially even stunts his friendship with Azuma, a caring girl who was his classmate in middle school when Taira first began to withdraw into himself. But something small yet momentous happens in the most recent episode of the series (S2E6): The power of words is beginning to work in reverse, showing Taira—and reminding us—that the things we say can leave a profound impact on others, including for the better.
If you follow me on Twitter, you know that Taira and Azuma are my absolute favorite pairing right now. On their own, the two are surprisingly complex for characters in a cute romcom anime—Azuma is trying to work through the realization that she allows herself to be used by men (her arc deserves an article on its own!), and Taira is, as I explained, constantly in his own head about what others think of him. Together, the two somehow get each other—they have the oddest but very real conversations.
Case in point: While riding the train home from school, Azuma tells Taira that she notices he always holds back while laughing—he never lets himself just break down in laughter. As Taira explains why he’s so reserved, he remembers former classmates whispering that his laughter was creepy.
This scene hit me hard, not because I’ve been made fun of for the same reason, but because I know I’ve been in his classmates’ shoes, talking trash about someone for no good reason—and being overheard. In high school, I asked a close friend why his girlfriend didn’t seem to like me, and he confided that it was because I’d made fun of her in a really mean way when we were classmates in elementary school. The mean things I’d said all those years earlier had stayed with her.
I think that’s important to note: We often don’t even realize the power of our words. Although we’ve all experienced the harm that words can cause, most of us can probably feel the truth of Proverbs 18:21a: which says, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (ESV). We’ve all said mean or harsh things to others—even to loved ones. My parents have hurt me by their words, and I’m not proud to say, I’m sure I’ve done the same to my kids.
But we don’t like to talk about how words have wounded us: they’re too personal, they make us look “weak,” and it’s too uncomfortable to work through the emotions. And so, when we’re the perpetrators, we often don’t witness the repercussions of our words nor comprehend the harm we do. So unless you find yourself in a situation as I did with my friend, you may never know what scars you’ve inflicted on others; worse yet, if you’re like me, you’ll justify the words you’ve said as simply being “harsh truth.”
But we need to be honest with ourselves. Proverbs 15:1 offers us this wisdom: “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger” (ESV). Other translations render “soft” as “gentle” or “mild.” The point is clear: the way we respond can change a person’s entire mood or approach. Imagine, for instance, if Taira’s classmates had laughed along with him rather than criticized him. Maybe Taira, who is sitting by himself far apart from the group, would move one step closer to friendship with them instead of away toward isolation. Maybe then he’d be more confident with his current friend group.
Those words from the past impacted him then and still affect Taira now.
But there’s a counterattack happening. As much as Taira struggles because of those harsh words from the past, his group of friends now is “fighting back” by showing him kindness. By not judging him. By standing up for him. By including him.
And leading the way is someone from his past—Azuma. Riding the same train as Taira, she gets the chance to have more one-on-ones with him than any other in their friend group. And over and over, she treats him with respect. She doesn’t pretend his insecurities aren’t there; she simply refuses to let them determine how she treats him.
Azuma isn’t consciously doing this every time she talks to Taira. But this constant kindness makes such an impact that Taira—as anxious as he is—feels compelled to give Azuma a White Day gift out of gratitude.
That moment is symbolic. While Taira isn’t free from his past yet (he continues to struggle—which is absolutely consistent with the long process of transformation), he realizes how meaningful she’s been to him. And because he’s grateful to her, he’s able to be vulnerable—something he usually struggles to do.
We as Christians are not immune to using harsh words, tearing people down, or gossiping. But we must follow the example Azuma sets, resisting the instinct to join the crowd, condemn others, or simply be mean. Our words can destroy or they can build up. They can push people away from Christ or draw them nearer. They can be of the devil or of God.
So let’s be better with our words. Let’s take inspiration from You and I Are Polar Opposites and be Azumas to the Tairas in the world—sharing a kindness that wounds less, heals more, and points people toward Christ.
