I Hate, HATE (6/12/2018)

I fell down a terrible rabbit whole.  Wait...  While this is true, I am getting ahead of myself a bit.  Let me try again. 
 

First I’ll indulge in a little self-deprecation.  In honor of my dad who thought blonde jokes were the funniest jokes ever told (which I have grown to understand that they are actually very offensive) Here’s a joke that describes me recently: 

Three blondes walk into a building…You’d think at least one of them would’ve seen it!

But I digress…

Do you ever suddenly realize the universe, the powers that be, god, (whatever you want to call it), SOMETHING is trying to get your attention and you’ve been missing the hints for a while?  I like to kid myself into thinking that I am “aware” and “in tune” with things.  But, there are times that I blithely and quite literally, “blondely” miss things that are practically slapping me in the face. 

I think it actually started subtlety, a few years ago…in 2015.  The moments and instances were small and scattered throughout my life.  Gradually, they’ve become more prominent and more regular.  Slowly the meaning and importance have been seeping into my consciousness.  And suddenly, I can see the clear path mapped out from the past - each event -leading me to today.   As I type this, I wonder if it doesn’t go deeper into my past than I realize.  I can continue connecting the dots and thinking of events throughout my life that fit like puzzle pieces in the big picture.  Humm…..

Ok.  Enough cryptic babble.  What is clogging my bandwidth of late is HATE.  I have become acutely aware of and achingly pained by all the hate in this world.  As a child, my mom didn’t allow us to say the word.  I always thought that was odd.  What difference did saying a word make?  Thinking about it now, I understand that the overuse of the word has desensitized me and probably most people to the significance of using the word.  “I hate broccoli.”  Nope.  Not an appropriate use of the word.  Stop and consider the definition:

HATE or HATRED - intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury.  Think about that.  Let it sink in for a second. 

Then, consider for a moment the names throughout history that we associate with hate.  Further think of the wars, incidents, crimes and other horrific things that are associated and or fueled by hate.  Hate is evil.  And while I’ve been guilty of this myself, after the intense amount of consideration I’ve given this in the past week, I firmly believe that we use the word rashly and irresponsibly in our daily lives. 

A couple weeks back my mind meanderings about hate began when hate literally walked into my house - uninvited.  It wasn’t a horrific entrance.  Rather, it was calm, subdued, friendly and came bearing gifts to me as a hostess.  In all honesty, hate slipped right by me and I didn’t even recognize it.  It really is the most dangerous kind of hate.  A guest to my house brought with them a friend that publicly displaced permanent marking denoting his allegiance to organizations that insight and promote hate.  I was stunned when it was brought to my attention, but in the midst of attending to a large number of guests, quickly found my attentions diverted.  I had a couple small interactions with the man and his partner during the course of the evening, and found that I wasn’t able to really process my thoughts about him or the alliances that he was proud enough of that he tattooed them to his body.  Even the next day, when I shared this revelation with my husband, I still felt my head swim a bit when I thought about it. 

In all honesty, my initial thoughts – the things I used to do a little self-soothing – went something like this:  I suppose he could have made bad choices in his youth that he now regrets.  And… I don’t know what kind of life he has lived or what he did because he knew nothing else.  And… Who am I to judge?   And these statements are where my liberal ideals began to fail me.  I am liberal in that I tend to be less leashed to tradition and more open to new behavior and or opinion.  I try to see differences not as a reason to pass judgment, but rather as an opportunity to broaden my own knowledge, experience and understanding.  Therefore, being true to this sentiment, I set out to understand.  I didn’t really think about it, I just followed my natural instinct.  I set out to educate myself beyond what little I knew about organizations of hate.  And this is where I fell down the horrific rabbit hole that still plagues me. 

I did some research.  And as is typical, the more I read, the more I realized how much I didn’t know.  The more I read, the full scope of my blissful ignorance began to come into focus.  The more I read and the deeper I fell into the rabbit hole, my sadness and disbelief became worse.  I learned things about people and organizations that made my stomach turn.  I read historical facts that made me ashamed of the human race as a whole.  And as I read, I began to grasp what hate really is, the ignorance associated with it and the evil that feeds on it.  I began to feel trapped in the strangling tentacles of the lunatic fringe of society.  Worse, I began to feel hopeless in that these bottom dwellers have been emboldened by the lack of resistance they are receiving and are proudly rearing their ugly heads in our society because they don’t feel shame for their hate motivated actions.  I don’t care who you are, or what position you hold – whether a citizen or the President of the United States, if you don’t oppose and stand up against hate, you are part of the problem. 

I don’t want to be part of the problem.

I learned this lesson early in my childhood.  I was four years old.  I watched some unruly older kids throw rocks outside in our church parking lot.  I knew it was wrong.  As I stood there, I knew undoubtedly that they were going to get in trouble.  As anticipated, grownups did come outside, my dad included and the kids got in big trouble.  But, so did I.  My dad explained that because I had stood by, watching and knowing that what they were doing was wrong, yet, said nothing, I was just as guilty for not stopping it or seeking help from someone who could stop it. 

Facing the “trumped-up” (pun intended) levels of hate in our society, that lesson holds true more than ever today.  While one man cannot be held responsible for the inappropriate hateful actions of another, should one not denounce said hate, he shares guilt in the outcome.  I certainly don’t want to be THAT person. 

Back to the incident I mentioned above - the neighbor that brought a hate filled person into my home.  I was very proud of my husband, who didn't just let it lie, but who casually brought it up to the neighbor and asked about his affiliations.  The neighbor all but defended him and went to so far as to make the statement, "Yeah, but he is a good guy."  Wait...WHAT?!?  How does that equate?  Um....

 

This man has tattooed his body and proudly displays his affiliation with hate-mongering organizations that proliferate my means of inciting violence, fear, ignorance, intolerance, corruption and the vile attributes associated with the worth characteristics of mankind.  And yet, you want to say - and you want me to believe - that he's a "good guy?"  Seriously?

No.  Just no. Those things simply do not co-exist. 

But isn't that is part of the problem.  Making excuses for or trying to "cut them some slack" isn't helping the problem.  Should we not all be exposing, condemning and rejecting those who act this way?   Turning a blind eye to the situation doesn't keep us safe and out of the issue.  It makes us part of the problem and it makes the problem bigger.  It allows the issues to fester, infect others, embolden the guilty and decay our society - which is a problem for everyone whether we want to admit it or not. 

This line of thinking is being thrown at me in one manner after another.  Yet again, I found the powers that be bringing me to a point and asking me to be aware. 

Since the beginning of the year, as part of my book club, I've read a couple books recently that have struck a cord with me and fit into this whole line of thinking.  First in the mix were two books that were about historical events:  Killer of the Flower Moon by David Grann and The Unquiet Dead by Ausma Zehanay Khan.  And a couple that were rather apocalyptic:   The ever popular Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood and Black Fish City by Sam Miller.  I mention these for a couple of reasons.  First, when it comes to the historical books, I found myself delving into research to know more about the incidents the books were written about and was appalled to get a glimpse into the horrors that humans can bring to and torture other humans with because of greed and hate.  Secondly, the fiction books paint a picture of how things can go so array when hate gets enough power to consume and control.  These were cautionary tales that should not be overlooked.  Two historical warnings and two fictional warning that have merit in the times in which we are living.  It can't simply be ignored.   

And this is where I found myself - forced to pay attention; emotionally bruised by my new found knowledge; struggling to wrap my head around the expanse of pure hate that is apparently closer to me than I realized; fearful for the outcome for our country and humanity in general; and generally discouraged and depressed about the world I live in. 

I also came to the realization that I am also part of the problem.  I blithely go about my privileged, middle-class, white-girl life not realizing the advantages that I have just because of the color of my skin.  I like to think that I can relate to prejudices based on my gender.  Yes, I’ve been the target of harassment because of being female, but that is just a small piece of the puzzle. 

My trials cannot be compared to the friend who has the conscious thought every time he gets in the car:  “Don’t do anything suspicious because if I get pulled over by the wrong person or do something deemed aggressive, I could die.”   Or the friend who says that she had to make a daily effort to not only excel at her job, but go above and beyond expectation because she is certain that anything less than perfect would have certainly been the end of her employment.  Or my friend who, following me out of a big-box store in my neighborhood, was stopped at the exit and asked if he had paid for his bagged item as he and his receipt were scrutinized.  Mind you, no one looked twice at me as I opened my item with no bag and my receipt tucked into my purse.  Why?  Because I am white and my friend is black. 

I'm fortunate - privileged.  I don’t have to live my life with fear hanging over my head.  I can’t understand the toll it must take on one’s soul to constantly need to be on guard as a means to sustain your very life.  The constant worry and concern is emotional torture.  Why should anyone endure this abuse simply because of the color of their skin?  It is insanity.  It is HATE.   

In a perfect world….even in a better world, there would be no use for the word hate.

I am weary of heart.  I am saddened by the world we live in.  I can confidently say that I HATE, HATE. 

But now...So, I am aware.  Now what.  Can I even make a difference?  How?

 A Doodle by Autumn Boyet Stinton ©2018