Life isn’t two-dimensional. Neither are people.

The internet, and social media in particular, is like a steamroller. It takes something with dimension and shape, such as a mound of asphalt, and flattens it into a bland yet seemingly intelligible object. It is easier to map a flat surface than a complex hill. But two-dimensional shapes are often misleading. Many famous optical illusions rely on presenting two-dimensional shapes as incomprehensible objects of depth and complexity.

We humans, by eyesight and moral judgment, are meant to see in three dimensions. Yet the flat, comfortable blandness of two dimensions is tempting. Complexity, after all, is challenging.

Someone I know, through her own poor judgment, had her moral complexity and worth steamrolled into a simple, misleadingly easy-to-decipher two-dimensional object. To speak in internet parlance, she said something cruel and stupid and has now been cancelled.

I am here to take the two-dimensional Emma Gravazzi being ceaselessly steamrolled on the internet and give shape to her actual character.

Given the tragic event of the last week, it doesn’t take a close observer of the news to understand her likely transgression. Emma, a senior at St. Bonaventure University and class president, posted a picture of herself to a private social media group, grinning at the news of Charlie Kirk being shot. Someone in the group apparently took a screenshot of the image and shared it.

Now, social media accounts, some with millions of followers, are calling for her to be expelled from school, blocked from future employment opportunities, or worse.

I get it. If I didn’t know Emma, I would feel the pull of that temptation. But like all of us, I’m at my best when I resist my instinctual urges. I struggle to understand how someone could find joy or satisfaction in the public assassination of a young father for the mere offense of exercising his God-given rights. Plain and simple, Emma was wrong.

But in private, I’ve certainly made my fair share of off-color jokes. This is something rarely discussed in polite company, but nearly everyone does this from time to time. Be honest with yourself, have you never made an edgy joke as a young adult? If you haven’t, well, be sure to give me a wave as you enjoy the fast lane through Saint Peter’s Gates.

Given her offense and her all-too-human shortcomings, how is a stranger supposed to judge her character? After all, if you Google her name right now, all you’ll see is social media smashing her into a two-dimensional caricature. I’d like to help anyone who goes through the trouble of looking past this one moment see her in full, in three dimensions.

I first met Emma in one of the lamest ways imaginable: as her substitute teacher. I think we can all agree, substitute teachers are a pitiable lot. Few people want to be a substitute teacher because few people respect them, students especially.

I came to the job at a low point in my life. I had recently lost in the primary election for county commissioner in my home of Elk County. I ran for the position while in grad school in Rhode Island, which, in hindsight, was a fool’s errand.

So, I was out of school and out of a job. Nonetheless, during my excursion into local politics, I learned the position of chief clerk — roughly akin to a county administrator — was likely to become available the following January. While waiting for my shot at the job, which I eventually got, I had to earn a few bucks.

Thus began my brief career as a substitute teacher. Through another strange set of circumstances, I was also serving out the remainder of a four-month term as a city councilman after a member of my hometown council in Saint Marys passed away.

Most high school students don’t give a damn about substitute teachers. They assume it will be an easy day in class and treat it as such. This was my view in high school. Others use it as an opportunity to cause havoc.

Strangely enough, a few go out of their way to be nice to substitute teachers. That was Emma.

I believe she was a junior at the time, and I was always excited when I had her in class because it meant at least one student wouldn’t view me as a talking office chair. Not only that, but it was also obvious she was smart, hardworking, and ambitious.

While moonlighting as a councilman, I also attempted to revive Saint Marys’ defunct youth activities commission, which was meant to function as a youth city council. I was incredibly excited when I found out that Emma wanted to join. The commission never really took off. There were a variety of reasons for that, but mostly because I’m a poor institution builder. Nonetheless, during Emma’s time on it, she brought the same level of attention and hard work she brought to class.

I lost touch with Emma when I left my job as chief clerk, moved to Pittsburgh, then later Philadelphia. It frankly would have been inappropriate for me to stay in touch with her. But given her work ethic, ambition, and kindness, I figured she was off to big things.

When a friend texted me last Wednesday that Charlie Kirk had been shot and then sent me the video of the bullet passing through his neck, I didn’t think that event, through a bizarre and tragic twist, would be how I learned what Emma was up to. But that’s the nature of our digital age.

Although our politics mostly align, I was never into Charlie Kirk’s style. None of that came to mind when I saw the video, though. My stomach turned, I started sweating, and I had to pause work for about an hour to regain my composure. The extreme violence and public setting of the event moved me.

But if I’m honest with myself, and once again bring up something that rarely gets raised in polite company, the initial news broken to me over text didn’t move me. It seemed almost fictional, as though these events were on an elaborate stage with dedicated character actors. It took the video for the gravity of the event to sink in.

I’m not sure how Emma learned the news or how she initially felt. Maybe it seemed fake at first, or not that serious. Or maybe she really does hold those with differing opinions in such low regard, though I doubt that.

What I do know is her tasteless reaction doesn’t outweigh everything else I know about her. I don’t know her well, but I know her better than those on social media calling for her future to be ruined.

After all, there are few people in American society more easily mocked than substitute teachers. Emma never did that. As silly as that sounds, I’d like to think that says something.

If you can get past the social media firestorm around her reaction, a three-dimensional image of Emma since high school begins to form. As a freshman in college, she wrote a book about a Civil War veteran from Pennsylvania. Over the summers she worked at Elk County’s beautiful visitor center and is clearly involved in campus life.

What moved me to write this piece is Emma’s apology. As you can imagine, the social media firestorm engulfed not only Emma but also the entire Saint Bonaventure campus. Understandably, the university put out a statement denouncing her post and announcing an investigation. At her request, the university publicly released an apology from Emma. I encourage you to read it in full.

This part struck me:

“I hope that I will be afforded the opportunity to do better. I hope that my character might be defined by the total sum of my actions and attitudes, rather than by a simple insensitive lapse in judgment.”

Shouldn’t we all aspire to that, and seek a culture that embraces that outlook? I know I do.

So let me take a moment to attest to Emma’s character: she is kind, smart, hardworking, and despite our political differences, someone who will hopefully someday contribute meaningfully to our shared American project.

Do not fall for the comfortable two-dimensional objects put in front of your screen. They are often optical illusions. Instead, try to see the full person on the other side. Charlie Kirk’s assassin fell for this temptation, and now a husband and father is dead. This isn’t easy, but our humanity depends on it.