A reflective personal essay: Living with the Weight of Unwarranted Hatred
After seventy years of living, one undeniable truth becomes apparent—there are people who will hate you simply for being who you are. This isn’t a fleeting observation or a pessimistic thought; it’s a hard-earned realization, a pattern witnessed time and again. For those who have experienced this kind of hostility firsthand, especially those in marginalized communities, the question often arises: How can people harbor such hate toward someone for something as innate as their identity?
The answer isn’t simple, and perhaps it never will be. Hatred often grows from fear, ignorance, and insecurity. It becomes easier for some to lash out at what they don’t understand than to confront their own prejudices. But acknowledging the source of this hatred doesn’t make enduring it any less exhausting.
For transgender individuals, or those in any marginalized group, this experience can be even more profound. Simply existing authentically can attract hostility. While moments of acceptance and understanding do exist—and can be deeply affirming—the persistence of hatred remains an undeniable force. The rare instances where someone’s perspective shifts for the better can shine brightly, but they can feel like exceptions rather than the rule.
A lingering question persists: What about those who never change? The people who seem immovable, who direct their hatred like an arrow aimed at one’s very existence. This hostility can go beyond mere words, manifesting as physical threats or systemic discrimination. And so, the issue of safety emerges. Can true safety exist as long as hatred endures?
The instinct to withdraw becomes almost second nature. For many, agoraphobia—or the avoidance of public spaces—develops not out of choice, but as a means of survival. The world outside begins to resemble a battleground, and home becomes both a refuge and a prison. This self-imposed isolation may offer a temporary sense of protection, but it can also feel like a slow erosion of life’s vibrancy, leaving one trapped in a space that feels increasingly confining.
Living under the shadow of such relentless hostility can lead to profound despair. When the weight becomes unbearable, the thought of escape, even through permanent means, may seem like the only way out. But even in the darkest moments, survival becomes an act of defiance. To exist, to continue breathing and being, is to resist the forces that seek to erase you.
No one should have to carry this burden alone. Even the smallest connections—a kind conversation, an understanding friend, or a supportive community—can serve as lifelines. These moments don’t erase the pain, but they can soften it, if only for a while.
If you find yourself in this place, know that your existence matters, even if the world doesn’t always reflect it. Sometimes, surviving another day is the bravest thing you can do. And in that survival lies hope, however faint, that the world can shift—even if just a little—in your favor.
𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆,
𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍.
Related Poetry by Belle
Other Blog Sites
Featured on It Be Life | Facebook
Comments