So what was I to make of the unrest on the campus of the University of Missouri?

When I first heard that a black student was willing to starve himself to death unless the university president resigned -- along with a long list of other demands -- I began asking questions, not as a journalist, but as a person. What was so awful that a young man with promise was willing to lay down his life? I still don't have a perfect answer.

Along the way, a complicated story unfolded. As a 39-year-old white male, I understand that there are certain experiences I will never completely understand, but I feel I should try. I will never truly grasp what it's like to be a black person. I will never capture the essence of what it's like to grow up gay in a conservative part of the country. I will never know the anguish of a starving orphan in a far away land.

We all have our own upbringings and experiences. We can try to empathize. And we can act on empathy. But true understanding of another person's culture and grievances is nearly impossible without complete immersion. And I don't think I need to necessarily apologize for that.

My basic research into the events at Mizzou led me to a PBS story about a term called "microaggressions." In the report, PBS interviewed Columbia University professor Derald Wing Sue. Sue said everyday conversations for minorities can include verbal, nonverbal, intentional or unintentional slights. Over time, Sue said, these microaggressions add up. And then, a more overt act of racism can be a tipping point, the kind that would lead a man to a hunger strike.

I think the professor is on to something. I tend to disagree, however, at least on the surface, that microaggressions are limited to those in "marginalized groups." Minorities can't lay exclusive claim to intended or unintended insults. How many times, and from how many places have you heard the phrase, "Wake up, it's time to take our country back?" People everywhere are agitated.

Microaggressions are real. They invade our collective space like airborne viruses, and they are making this country ill.

For African-Americans, I imagine they resent the Facebook posts about "thugs" and Ferguson protesters, as if every black person in America is heaving bricks. I imagine their skin crawls when they're told they're not black enough when they excel in their studies, an intraracial microaggression. Those insensitive jokes about low-hanging pants -- it all adds up, and it's probably enough to set a person on edge. I get it.

An African-American woman I know and admire told me she often gets second looks when she shows up at conservative political events, as if she is out of place. Indeed, she does not look like the rest of the crowd. But she soon feels welcome in the group, and she told me she hasn't experienced racism in a long time. She doesn't interpret the second looks as racism. Nor should she. It is her choice how she interprets looks and comments, just as it is her choice to break a political stereotype.

But racism is out there. And it is ugly. A Mizzou professor featured in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch shared in a Facebook status that she had been called the n-word "too many times to count."

After her post was published in the Columbia Missourian, then reposted online by two national media outlets, the black female professor received hate-filled responses from racist people. She also said she had been called the n-word by faculty. In my eyes, the bombshell report offered credibility to the movement at Mizzou. There are other aspects that discredited the movement and the protesters, the false reports of the KKK being on campus and the exaggeration of a protester being hit by the university president's car being another. But I know that racism is real, as the university professor indicated.

As an editor, I've removed several racist posts from our online commentary section and banned a handful of disgusting, cowardly and anonymous racist people. I've received racist letters based on our coverage and placement of stories. The protesters are right in wanting to exterminate this rancid mentality. On whom the blame should reside for these racist demonstrations is a different question.

But let's examine the concept of micgroaggressions.

One example given online of a microaggression is asking a minority person where he or she is from. The question implies they are not from HERE, and hence not part of U.S.

I'm guilty of this. I met a wonderful man while working at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch several years ago. He was an Asian-American with a husky drawl, a sweet disposition and a Texas-sized laugh. I know I must have asked him where he was from. Because I know where he is from. I was and am intrigued by a man who was born American, but grew up the son of Chinese immigrants who operated a restaurant in the Lone Star State. That he developed a love for journalism, football and baseball is an interesting narrative, and I enjoy hearing about his childhood memories and his upbringing. I'm sure I asked him more about his heritage; I might have asked him if he spoke his parents' native language (another microaggression, I'm told). I suppose these microaggressions get tiresome for those who are asked those questions because of the way they look. But were my questions rooted in racism? I came to adore and admire this man. He is one of the best editors I've ever known. I hope he didn't consider my curiosity as intrusive or insensitive. They were not intended to be.

It's about this point in the column where many of you are beginning to roll your eyes. These "victims" of "microaggressions" are sissies; they need to grow some thicker skin.

OK, I see your point, but let's flip the script.

What about people who call Christians religious zealots for their opinion that the religious sanctity of Christmas is disappearing year after year? Microaggressions.

Christians, how do you feel when atheists mock those who "close your eyes and talk to an invisible man in the sky?" Or when you read a Facebook post about the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster? Does that offend you, even in a small way? Microaggression.

Teachers, when people claim how nice it must be to have summers off, does that offend you? Microaggression.

As an editor, every time I hear the term lamestream media, or liberal media, it irks me. Microaggression.

Police officers, how do you like being called a murderer? Or a pig? Or having a routine traffic stop recorded on video? Microaggressions every day, all day.

Tea Party activists, how do you like being called racist because you believe in limited government?

It doesn't matter who you are or to what group you belong, whether you are in the minority, majority or a marginalized group, microaggressions are all around us. All of us are being attacked and insulted all the time. Now imagine the number of these microaggressions a person must hear if she is a black, gay cop? The microaggression possibilities are endless and no doubt ruthless. You can see how these put downs, whether perceived or not, could add up, especially to minorities. We fail to see what we have in common, and focus too much on our differences.

The tone of the discourse in the country, from all sides and angles, seems to be at the root of so many of our problems. The anger and pessimism that abounds can be found in the projection and reception of our words. Insulting language is part of today's political lexicon, with famous pundits, politicians and their passionate followers creating divisive terms and positions to accentuate differences and exacerbate fears. We assume prejudice where there may not be, because we don't know the hearts of people. We absorb these microaggressions and collect them, measure them, add them up, make them precious and take stock. Then we unleash our rebuttal when the opportunity is presented; and it is presented on social media several times per day. Sometimes, righteous anger is justified. But sometimes we just need to let it go. Sometimes we should examine and calm ourselves and strive to change hearts by being honorable humans.

These microaggressions, like a swirling frenzy of indestructible gnats, make us an angry people. We hold on to things that upset us, even when they shouldn't.

Take for example a column we published on our opinion page on Wednesday, written by columnist Rich Lowry. He was admonishing the popular use of the peace symbol with an Eiffel Tower that went viral and was adopted by many on Facebook as their profile photo in the wake of the terrorist attack in France. It was a symbol shared millions of times over as an offering of unity, much like the blue, white and red striped overlay that many placed over their regular profile photos. Millions of people across the globe on Facebook showed their support for France in this way. I was among them.

"We take grotesque atrocities and launder them into trite symbols and slogans that are usually self-congratulatory and, of course, wholly ineffectual," Lowry wrote.

Lowry is obviously angry and disgusted by the attacks, as we all are. But how distorted must his worldview be that he would condemn a harmless effort that shows support for an ailing nation? I later learned that many French citizens take offense at their own flag because it represents the far right in that country. There's an offense to be taken in everything.

So here is a vow I'm willing to make. I will be careful with what I say and how I approach people. I won't apologize for being curious about them and their upbringing and their cultural past, but I will not be surprised if they don't fit a stereotype. I won't apologize for being who I am, but I will acknowledge I had advantages in growing up the way I did. I will understand that we live among 7 billion people on this planet and the majority will not believe what I believe. As such, and as long as a person does no physical or criminal harm to others, I will be slow to take offense and be measured in my response, even when I'm micro-offended. I will laugh and encourage more than I shout and disparage. I will say "please" and "thank you." I will return smiles and make eye contact. I will defend my freedoms and my family. But I will pick my battles carefully.

Bob Miller is editor of the Southeast Missourian.