Hate the Hate

I thought by moving away from the Midwest I could escape racism, intolerance, and narrow-minded thinking.   But I have learned that ignorance and hate is everywhere.  Hearing  derogatory and offensive comments about poor people and minorities makes me hate ”white culture.”  I hate it so much it hurts.

The other day a colleague of mine told a story about how she got lost downtown and she was surrounded by black people.  And in her words “they were not nice ones.”  Ones.  She called them ones.  It was so disturbing.  And I didn’t say anything.  I felt I couldn’t.  She’s my superior.  And I thought:  this is what happens when we become isolated in our gated communities.  We forget that not everyone lives like we do.  We forget there are other cultures and other ways to do life.

I pray that I never become so calloused and cold.  So hateful, and deceptively nonchalant about all of it.  Just like I struggle with being cynical about the church, I struggle not to hate the white society I was raised in.  But I do.  I hate how we are afraid of the “black parts of town.”  And how we make jokes about chicken wings and hot sauce.  And how we laugh at ebonics or a truck full of immigrant workers. 

And I pray that my daughter is never forced to listen to someone belittle another person’s culture or struggle.  I pray my children are compassionate and kind and gracious.  And I pray  that one day I will have the courage to tell someone it is not okay to casually refer to a group of people as “ones.”