Hi there, dreamers and deep thinkers,
Lately, I’ve been wrestling with a heavy realization: racism and hatred are not some shocking “new” forces unleashed on our world. They’ve always been here. From the genocide of Native peoples in the 18th century, to slavery and Jim Crow, to anti-Asian exclusion laws, to the horrors of Nazi camps — hate has shaped the world more deeply than I ever realized.
For a long time, I didn’t see it clearly. Partly because history books in America are often whitewashed to make us feel proud, not critical. And partly because of the way I was raised.
See, my mom had a rule in our house: you don’t hate anything.
If I ever slipped and said “I hate this” or “I hate that,” she would stop me in my tracks. Her voice would sharpen into that scolding, no-nonsense tone: “You don’t hate anything! You may dislike something, but you don’t hate.”
To her, hate was as bad as a curse word — maybe worse.
Growing Up with a Different Compass
Looking back, I realize how much that shaped me. She taught me empathy, not prejudice. It was my mom’s simple lesson that became the foundation: hate corrodes the person who holds it.
By teaching me that hate was off-limits, she forced me to find other words. Instead of writing people or things off, I had to think in terms of dislike, disagreement, frustration, or hurt. That small shift in language kept my mind flexible. It taught me to see people as complicated, not disposable.
Why Racism Still Feels Like a Shock
That’s why, when I learned about movements like Christian nationalism or Project 2025, I felt blindsided. It felt like some outrageous new wave of hate, something un-American and foreign to me. But the truth is, it’s not new. It’s just the latest expression of something very old.
The hate has always existed. It fueled slavery, exclusion, segregation, and violence. And every time it was challenged, it evolved into another form.
What’s different is that my mom’s lesson insulated me from normalizing it. For me, hate was never “just the way things are.” It was always taboo.
Resistance Isn’t Just in History Books
When we talk about resistance to racism, we often name big movements: abolitionists, the Civil Rights Movement, Black Lives Matter. But there’s another kind of resistance too — the kind that happens inside a family home, in the way a mother raises her child.
My mom’s refusal to allow hate in our vocabulary was her way of resisting. She didn’t dismantle institutions, but she dismantled hate inside me before it had a chance to take root. And that’s just as much a legacy as any law passed or protest held.
Carrying It Forward
So here I am now, realizing that the hate I once thought was “new” has been here all along. But I’m also realizing something else: my mother’s lesson is just as old, and just as enduring.
Every time I choose not to hate — every time I insist on empathy, nuance, and humanity — I’m honoring her voice in my head. That scolding tone becomes a kind of shield, protecting me from being swept into the cycles of anger that have plagued humanity for centuries.
Maybe that’s what real resistance looks like: not just fighting the systems of hate out there, but refusing to let them live inside us.
Keep open your heart as well as your mind. Stay curious friends. ✨
