Hatred was always just a word to me. A strong one. Loaded. Something that belonged to history books, documentaries, other places, other times.
I thought I understood it. I didn’t.
I had never truly experienced hatred until I moved here.
This community became the place where the word stopped being abstract and started being lived. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Methodically.
đź“‹ Hatred, Respectably Packaged
There were no slurs. No shouting. No overt declarations. That would have been too crude. Almost honest.
Instead, hatred arrived dressed as process.
It smiled while it excluded.
From day one, the message was consistent, even if never written down: You are not here to belong. You are here to be managed.
Not a neighbour.
Not a person.
A problem file.
đź”” Quasimodo, Updated for Modern Times
Once, we locked Quasimodo in a bell tower “for his own good.” We mocked him, feared him, used him- and later congratulated ourselves for feeling sorry.
Today, we’ve refined the technique.
We don’t need towers anymore. We have rules. Committees. We call it neutrality. We call it the way things are done here.
Different century. Same instinct.
🗣️ The Whisper Campaign
Lies were whispered. Quietly. Repeatedly.
Not debated. Not verified. Just passed along like something infectious.
People who had never once spoken to me – never exchanged a word, never asked a question- knew my name. And when they said it, they said it with certainty. With judgment. With hatred.
That’s how you know it’s real.
I became a story before I was ever allowed to be a person. A version of me circulated freely, while the real me stood nearby – visible, silent, erased.
No confrontation. No courage.
Just whispers and sideways looks.
This kind of hatred thrives in “nice” communities.
It leaves no fingerprints.
It ruins reputations without witnesses.
And everyone involved gets to believe they are decent people.
🧊 Hatred Without Rage
Hatred doesn’t always look like violence.
Sometimes it looks like indifference with authority.
Sometimes it looks like consistency applied just enough to harm.
Sometimes it looks like being told – calmly, repeatedly – that your existence is inconvenient.
This community is not confused about what it is doing. That is the hardest truth. Hatred does not always require malice. It only requires comfort with someone else’s exclusion.
I used to think hatred was loud. I was wrong.
Hatred is quiet. Hatred calls itself reasonable.
And this place- this community – became the moment I finally understood what the word actually means.
