"I saw a Latino woman with a black man at the Y today," I said to my wife, "and I wondered if she was safe."

She looked at me aghast, as if she didn't recognize the ­person she had been married to for nearly 40 years.

But that's not what I said. That's what she thought I said.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked.

"I can't believe you said that," she said. She was visibly upset.

"What do you mean? She was entering the studio for the next class as I was leaving."

Here's what I actually said:

"I saw a Latino woman with a black eye at the Y today, and I wondered if she was safe."

A single misheard word, man for eye. The words don't even sound alike. But with that simple misperception, one ­person's values and core beliefs had been fundamentally misapprehended.

How often do similar misunderstandings occur every day? How often do we send an e-mail or text whose tone is misperceived, and the ­recipient never asks for ­clarification?

And what about my values? If the woman had been light-skinned, would I have said, "I saw a white woman with a black eye, and I wondered if she was safe?" Am I guilty of subconscious profiling?

Our deepest assumptions are subtly revealed. Consider the title of Gay Talese's book, "Thy Neighbor's Wife." Change the gender to "Thy Neighbor's Husband" and you realize that our society's ­tendency is to think of maleness as the norm and femaleness as the exception, as Casey Miller and Kate Swift point out in "The Handbook of Nonsexist Writing."

Even having this conversation is risky. It's safer to hide behind a veneer of politeness and politically correct statements, as illustrated so revealingly in the Guthrie Theater's production of "Clybourne Park."

When I saw the woman at the Y, I asked myself, how often do people get black eyes from accidents? When my wife sees a doctor or nurse, she's routinely asked if she feels safe at home, but it wasn't my place to say something to a stranger.

My choice was problematic. I could say nothing and be party to abuse, or say something and risk causing offense, a risk that's greater — I'll say it — when communicating across lines of race, culture, gender and age.

So I went over to the instructor for the next class (a woman) and I said, "The Latino woman by the windows has a black eye. Maybe a staff person should ask her if she's safe." And I left.

I don't know the end of the story — except for the misunderstanding that occurred with the person who knows me ­better than anyone else on the planet.

So what's the answer?

As President Obama has suggested, we talk. We don't shy away from hard-to-discuss issues. We examine our values, come to a thoughtful conclusion about other people's viewpoints and even if we disagree, we try to understand.

We don't let our differences divide us.

Stephen Wilbers offers training seminars in effective business writing. E-mail him at wilbe004@umn.edu. His website is www.wilbers.com.