Why Do You Hate Me?

Do you really know why?

Image by Amber Clay from Pixabay

I know you hate me, even though you don’t know me or have never met me.

I can tell, by what you say, what you write, how you act, and even by who you vote for. You seem to find joy in hating me and others like me. I don’t know why.

My skin might be a different color, black, brown, red, or yellow. Is that why you hate me?

I may not have been born in this country, or my parents may have come from abroad. Is that why you hate me?

I might love someone of the same sex or be married to someone of the same sex. Is that why you hate me?

My family might be poor or homeless. Is that why you hate me?

I might have a different religion from you, even though we pray to the same God. Is that why you hate me?

I might not be as healthy or as bright as you, and I might be handicapped. Is that why you hate me?

I may be of different sex or I may even be transgendered. Is that why you hate me?

I may not think or believe the same way you do. Is that why you hate me?

Please tell me because I don’t understand. I’ve never done anything to you or your family, yet you still hate me.

My same-sex marriage doesn’t affect you or your marriage, yet you try to destroy my marriage.

Your relatives, either present or past, came from another part of the world, yet you don’t want me, because I, too, come from somewhere else.

You go to church on Sundays to hear the teachings of a man who preached love, acceptance, and caring for the poor and less fortunate, yet every other day of the week, you espouse hatred and violence towards your neighbors.

You say you have faith in this poor carpenter, yet you bow down to the almighty dollar. Instead, you have converted to the religion of money and choose to ignore the poor in your quest for wealth.

You have read the Bible and say you live by it, yet you pick and choose what passages to live by and even reinterpret those passages to justify your hatred and bigotry.

The more I know you, the more I am convinced that you don’t hate me for who “I” am. I think you hate me for who “You” are.

You don’t hate me. You’re afraid of me. You’re afraid of becoming a racial minority. You’re afraid of me because you don’t understand me, but you don’t want to learn about me. You hate me because I make you feel uncomfortable being with people who are different from you. You hate me because you are afraid to compete with me. You hate me because you are unsure of your sexual identity and intellectual abilities. You are so insecure that you feel the only way to raise yourself up is by putting other people down.

I don’t feel bad or depressed because you hate me. I feel sad for you. You are so insecure and so fearful that you are unable to better yourself by expanding your horizons, by getting to know me and others like me. I feel sorry for you.

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