I walk into the break room at work to see the tv showing a news report of an airport shooting. I pour my coffee, walk back to my desk, and take an anti anxiety. I walk into the break room at work a few hours later to see the tv showing a news report of a man being tortured on Facebook live. I walk out and hide in the restroom for a while.
I come home to two beautiful children. They have never known abuse or faced a hate crime. They don’t know to fear this world. They see school as safe, and airports as fun. They believe that strangers are often nice, and that differences in religion and image are cool. They will tell you that the job of a police officer is to keep people safe by reminding them of the rules. They use the internet to see what dinasours lived in the ocean, and learn State Capitals.
I come home, look at these children and am forced to wonder when the fear will start. When will they begin facing bullies? When will they notice that not everyone likes their mommy and daddy being different colors? When will the internet turn dark for them? When will they start to loose hope? Can I protect them from that? Should I protect them from fearing the world?
I tell myself everyday that kindness can make a difference. That love can change people. That we should hope for a better future and work to see that happen. But how do we fight those who hate and kill and persecute without becoming them? Is hope truly there? At what point should we simply give up? Why does it seem that hate is so much stronger than love?