During a night that was supposed to be filled with fun and frivolity, I witnessed a fight about masturbation. The intensity of the argument escalated to the point that one participant narrowly avoided a black eye.

After a period during which the group splintered apart to various locales to regain composure, some new people came to the party. Then ensued another, more civil, discussion about the relative value of one’s opinion that lasted until 5 a.m. Because all of this added up to a cumulative five hours of having my ideas challenged, I had to dwell on it some in the following days.

First of all, what is it about masturbation that incites such anger in both sides of what I had never before considered an argument? Our society has left behind the days of graham cracker and cereal companies trying to convince us of all the medical complications getting oneself off causes.

What I learned is that some women my age still think it’s something only men can or should do. A few still believe the myth that men medically need to masturbate. Those appalled by others’ openly embracing the practice of flying solo thought the idea of touching themselves, the same skin that covers the rest of their body, was disgusting. They thought they should wait for someone else to arrive to deliver their orgasm but still felt guilty about the two-party sex they were having.

However, they defended their refusal to approve of their comrades’ self-satisfaction by citing religious reasons, and understandably so. It’s unreasonable to expect someone to renounce their religion even for the sake of orgasm.

At the same time, those of the belief that masturbating is fun for all and necessary for good sex with others seemed intensely frustrated with the resistance they met. It seemed almost as if they considered masturbating a hot secret they had discovered and now found themselves saddled with the task of spreading the good news.

Now picture what this must have looked like to me, who for once played the role of observer. Women in their 20s screaming, pulling their hair out, jumping up and down and nearly crying over this disagreement. Four of these women lived together and were close friends. I tried to understand not only how this became an argument at all, but why it got so out of hand.

That same night, we practically deconstructed the universe with the not groundbreaking but certainly unsettling discussion of whether one can advocate social change and respect the very opinion one is trying to influence. While this brought up some tension and frustration among those in the discussion, it didn’t ignite the hostility the arguably less important masturbation fight did.

But the second argument applies to the first. If, as a masturbator, one wishes her friends to know the joy she knows, she’ll want to change their opinions. She has good intentions: orgasms for all, better and more often. But she has to respect her non-masturbating friends’ stance. If someone has a religious conflict, that’s a fair reason and one that is probably very sensitive. Yelling about how “repressed” someone is isn’t going to change their point of view.

The world spins with the force of people trying to make change. But no one can expect to change a thing by not giving those they disagree with any credit. Every opinion, every religion, every idea has some merit, or else no one would hold the opinion, follow the religion or subscribe to the idea.

Making change means first realizing how similar we all are and then respecting why those similarities have an end.