“You’re blocked.”

“I’m what?!” I sat and stared at my computer screen in utter disbelief.

I had just accepted an offer to write a regular opinion column for this newspaper. So out of curiosity, I looked up a few columnists on Twitter. I came across someone I’ve read consistently over the years, someone whose opinions I regularly disagree with (though not always), but someone with whom I’ve never had any exchanges, and I’ve never met.

But I couldn’t see more than just his profile picture because he had blocked me. Blocking someone is what you do in response to harassment, but I hadn’t harassed him. I don’t recall any interactions with him at all.

“You’re blocked. You can’t follow or see (user name)’s Tweets.”

∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗

I am, shall we say, “outspoken.” I’m really at ease speaking my mind. This can be problematic. I’d characterize myself as “frank and assertive” – attributes that are typically associated positively with men, but negatively with women. I’ve been told I’m “too opinionated,” and I’ve never quite understood that. Isn’t that an oxymoron? How can anyone be too opinionated? How can anyone not have opinions on just about everything?

Everyone has opinions. Take ice cream. Which is the best? Chocolate? Vanilla? Or strawberry? Daylight Saving Time, or Standard Time, or both? (Yes, I’m thinking of you, James!) Patriots or Steelers? (Can there be any argument? Go, Steelers!) What about more controversial issues such as gun control or kneeling during the National Anthem? For or against, most of us have an opinion.

What has taken me by surprise is someone telling me, “The problem with you is, you always think you’re right!”

Well, of course I do.

My opinions are based on my education and lived experiences. I mean, do you walk around thinking your convictions are wrong? I think most people think they’re right. (And if you’re sitting there thinking I’m wrong, good for you! Because that’s an opinion, and so you’re proving my point!)

Or is the problem that I’m too vocal about my opinions? Well, I think that’s a good thing too.

For years, I’ve maintained that we shouldn’t be so concerned with the fact that we all hold differing opinions, rather we should focus more on how we express them. Debate and discussion are good. I grew up in environments where lively conversations at dinner were the norm. We yelled and it wasn’t personal; we were just fiery.

In fact, I remember a dinner at my dad’s when my best friend shed a tear after discussing whether fraternities were worthwhile college organizations. (She was really fine, Dad! Just not used to anyone as passionate as we were!) Some of my favorite memories from college were robust debates on the social contract when we read Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, and Machiavelli.

One of my best friends, Chris, was a staunch Republican, a conservative, and a political science major. I wasn’t sure who I was, but I tended to lean left. Chris and I spent most of our time considering and debating notions of justice, morality, and ethics. We’d get worked up, yell, and then find ourselves laughing — especially when we disagreed fervently. Because we took the time to listen carefully and fully explore subjects, we often changed each other’s minds.

And so, one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is that while it’s good to have like-minded friends, it’s equally good to not isolate ourselves too much. We’ve become so comfortable in our carefully curated tribes that we’ve forgotten that we have something to gain from dialogue. I may not always agree, but I try my best to listen to points others raise that I haven’t considered. It’s through this process that my mind can in fact be changed, and I can learn. And yes, from time to time, I even find that I am *gulp* wrong.

∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗

“You’re blocked.”

I read it again. And then I laughed. Actually, I squealed — in the way teenagers do when something really exciting happens. Because, you see, while I’ve read his columns regularly, I’ve never been interested enough to even glance at his social media. But it sure felt good to know I was compelling enough that he looked at mine.

So, I’ll be here on Sundays offering my opinions. I can’t promise you’ll like them, but I eagerly invite you to join me in spirited debate. You can follow me on Twitter if you like. But here’s the wonderful thing about my opinions, just that: they’re mine. At the end of the day, it’s OK if you don’t like them.

Turn the page or block me on social media. I’m a woman, I can take it.

Hilary Koch lives in Waterville. She welcomes comment at: hilarykoch@pm.me

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