Michael D. Davis

I don’t know it to be true, but I like to think that when I was just a chunky little baby, my big sister, just a kid herself, flipped me the bird, and I returned the favor.

The Unholy Middle Finger, The Bird, The One Hand Salute, all of these are just synonyms for a single finger on the hand; that when thrust to the sky alone, is supposed to show your contempt and disgust.

I frankly think there is more to that. Many people have shown their contempt and disgust for me over the years, and rarely did they use their fingers. For me, the middle finger is a lot of things. It is a ‘hello,’ a ‘goodbye,’ a ‘good burn buddy, ya got me.’ But more often than not, it is a way to oppose conformity.

I walk around our little burg, usually draped in black adorning a large vest with a painting across the back. The painting is one I did myself, of a skeletal hand giving, you guessed it, the finger. The reason for this is that I have been bullied, put down, and generally shoved into a box my whole life. It wasn’t till I found my vibe and accepted myself as the fat weird asthmatic freak that I am, that I painted that finger and donned it as my Superman cape.

I know what you’re saying. But Mike, that is still using the finger as a symbol of contempt. Contempt for conformity. And you’re right, my good friend, but let me elaborate on the other reasons I love this finger.

For one, the finger is universal and ancient. You don’t need to speak the same language to give someone the finger; you flip the bird, and you are all on the same page. The ancient Romans knew that they called it the digitus impudicus.

Also, for all the times I have given the finger, and I have given the finger a lot, I have rarely given it out of anger. I don’t know if I just see this gesture as something different, but I often give the finger when laughing. I have flipped the bird to my mother, father, sister, and just about every friend I have, and I’ve received the same from them.

Even when given in anger, there is nothing finer than flipping the bird. It’s that silent swear that can be given with a tense hand when your boss quickly glances in the other direction. It helps blow off steam, and it’s fun!

I’ll leave you with a story of a first impression. One of my longest friends has a brother that I believe is 18 now. When he was just a boy of around three or four, my very first meeting was seeing him run across the yard in his underwear while, as they say, flipping me the bird.

I did not see my friend’s brother for about 15 years after this incident. When I met him again, he was grown, and I asked him if he was the one that ran across the yard in his underwear, flipping me off.

“Oh, yeah, that sounds like me,” he said laughing.

Michael D. Davis, an STC graduate who lives in Toledo, is a correspondent and cartoonist for the Tama-Toledo News-Chronicle.