There was a time when I used the word hate.
It was generally in the context of a sports nemesis or a food I didn’t particularly care for. At times, hate would describe a thoroughly miserable activity, or my feelings about history’s most twisted despots.
Hate was a brief, yet definitive word — four letters with the bold power of a Chuck Norris roundhouse. It aroused emotion, displayed conviction, and demonstrated an uncommon strength of descriptive purpose.
It was the perfect word to describe, say, the Florida State Seminoles — the archrivals of my beloved Miami Hurricanes. Every time their fans celebrated a touchdown during my time in college — regardless of the opponent — I would feel sick to my stomach.
Hate remained in my lexicon into adulthood. If something really upset me, that four letter word became my go-to descriptor as I rehashed the incident over late night drinks with friends.
But recently, I realized the error of my ways, and I decided to make a change.
Now, hate is no longer in my vocabulary.
***
You see, hate is like gasoline. It boldly fuels any discussion it’s injected into — and it can quickly burn out of control.
When we say we hate something, we wish ill will upon it. Worse still, we wish pain and suffering upon it. The more we fixate our mind on these desires, the more dangerous they become.
Eventually hate can consume us, to the point where we become unbalanced and irrational. It’s at this point that those blinded by hate can cross the line from desiring the suffering of others to actually delivering it — causing shock, horror, pain and even more hate.
It’s a devastating, destructive cycle.
***
In the wake of the deadliest shooting in our nation’s history —one where someone used his contempt to deprive dozens of people of the most fundamental and precious thing they had — it’s time we think about the ramifications of hate.
The aggression, the senseless tragedy hate brings about — it’s simply unacceptable.
And it’s something we can prevent — by ridding ourselves of the sentiment in the first place.
We may not always identify with each other — I don’t personally identify with the LGBT community, the black community or the community of Florida State Seminole fans, for example — but we can still accept each other through our differences. We can at least find common ground there. We can, and we must.
This is why I abolished hate. This is why I sternly remind others that hate is a strong word whenever I hear them using it.
But it can’t start and end with just me. Everyone needs to pitch in.
We must abolish hate. Our future depends on it.