I honestly believe that people sit behind their computers and

The truth-telling comedian and warrior of words, Leslie Jones, once declared with sharpness and sorrow: “I honestly believe that people sit behind their computers and just get really brave.” Though born of the digital age, her words echo an ancient wisdom: that courage without consequence is not courage at all. In her voice we hear both humor and hurt—a lament for the age in which men and women speak boldly from the shadows of screens, wielding words like weapons, yet shrinking from the light of accountability. Her quote is not a jest, but a mirror held up to our times, revealing how the tools of connection have also become the walls of cruelty.

In the days of the ancients, bravery was measured by deeds done in the open. Warriors stood face to face; poets spoke truth before kings; philosophers risked exile or death for the sake of their convictions. To be brave was to act despite fear, to confront danger or injustice with one’s whole being exposed. But now, as Leslie Jones observed, a strange kind of false courage has arisen—a courage born not of the heart, but of anonymity. Behind the glowing veil of the computer, the timid become tyrants, the quiet become cruel, and the weak of spirit mistake hostility for power.

Her words come from a place of deep experience. When Leslie Jones, a comedian known for her fearless humor and radiant presence, faced a storm of online hatred after her appearance in the Ghostbusters film, she was not attacked in the streets or on stage—but through screens, by faceless voices who hid behind usernames and avatars. Their “bravery” was borrowed from distance; their cruelty was amplified by invisibility. They hurled insults and threats they would never dare speak aloud. And thus, her observation was forged in pain: that many who seem bold in the digital realm are but shadows—people who, without their walls of glass and wire, would never dare to confront another soul.

This phenomenon, though modern in form, is ancient in spirit. The philosopher Plato warned that when men are hidden from the consequences of their actions, their true character is revealed. He told of the Ring of Gyges, which granted its wearer invisibility—and with that power, even the just man was tempted to commit injustice. What Leslie Jones speaks of is the modern Ring of Gyges: the internet, where invisibility gives rise to untempered emotion, to the illusion of courage. But it is not courage born of virtue—it is the shadow of fear disguised as strength.

Yet there is hope within her wisdom. For though the digital age has birthed this false bravery, it also offers a test of character—a chance for true courage to rise again. To stand with kindness in a place where cruelty is easy is the new act of heroism. To speak truth without malice, to defend rather than destroy, to remember that behind every screen is a living soul—these are the deeds of the modern warrior. Jones, in her defiance, showed such strength. She did not vanish from the stage; she stood taller, her laughter louder, her light undimmed. She turned her pain into purpose, becoming a voice for dignity in a world drowning in noise.

The ancients would have called her a truth-teller, a herald who reminds us that words, like swords, must be wielded with honor. They would have said: “Bravery is not the act of striking unseen, but of standing revealed.” Her message is not to condemn technology, but to awaken integrity. The computer is not evil—it is a tool. But it magnifies what already exists within the heart. If we use it to wound, it multiplies harm; if we use it to heal, it multiplies hope.

So let the lesson be this: true courage is not found in the shadows of a screen, but in the light of empathy. When you speak, imagine the face of the one who listens. Let your words build, not break; let your strength show not in insult, but in restraint. Remember that bravery is not loudness, but love—the willingness to see humanity even in those who anger you. For every generation must redefine what it means to be brave, and ours, perhaps more than any before, must learn to be brave in kindness.

Thus, Leslie Jones’s words endure not merely as critique, but as calling. She reminds us that bravery without compassion is hollow, that strength without grace is corruption. When you sit before your computer, remember that your words are not weightless—they are stones cast into the hearts of others. Choose them as the ancients chose their battles: with honor, with care, and with the courage to stand in the open, unmasked, and fully human.