The Gravity of Hatred

People fascinate me.  More specifically, what motivates them does. As a result, I have grown to hate people as a whole, with a deep and bitter disgust that I seldom share because the blank expressions I get only fuel my fast thinning desire to keep my hatred to myself.

For those that spend any time near me – it is clear that I don’t care at all what your skin colour, income, heritage, history, or any of that is. Because, to be quite frank, idiots exist in all walks of life. People who are incapable of thinking independently of those standing next to them also outnumber the small few who aren’t afraid to reject rather than regurgitate.

Automatic discrimination makes me so angry that my head swims in what feels like a toxic drug that removes all reason.

The young man who taxies me around is a sweet and innocent faced born and bred Zulu guy who I pay to drive me around because I don’t drive. Medical reasons and all. I had a conversation with him about staying at arms length from me or in the car because he wasI was worried about him because the reaction was ‘angry’ and he getting given a hard time in his own language about walking with me. He refused to walk anywhere other than right next to me, and on top of that – he insisted on pushing my shopping cart. But what I realised after a few minutes was that he was being playful because I would look and there would be a whole lot of bananas or bags of sweets and he would be grinning. I found it refreshing that he didn’t care what other people thought of the young black man wondering about a mall with a tattoo clad white girl who clearly doesn’t care either.

Ignorance was bliss before I moved here. It is one for me to proclaim that I don’t care what colour people are. But it is another when you are in a part of the country where for reasons I don’t understand yet – it is still a thing. It still matters.

I have a temper – and yesterday I was walking too slowly for someones liking and he called me something in Zulu and literally picked me up by my arms and moved me out of his way. Three months ago I would have lost my cool. Yesterday I just stood there, staring at his back, feeling like I had missed something. I was so sad, and felt so helpless. It felt like it didn’t matter anymore that I don’t care.

And then today, the young man who drives me around, came into an Indian run hardware store with me. He was his usual happy, playful jovial self. He picked up a wooden handle of something, I don’t know what it was for, and the man behind the counter snapped at him and told him to put it down. Which – because he is soft hearted and kind and sensitive – he obediently did.

He was embarrassed, as the other people standing there turned to look at him. I on the other hand was not embarrassed. I was livid. I was imagining ramming the wooden pole so far up the hardware store owner’s ass that I could hear it tap the inside of his skull. Blood. Lots of blood.

So I ask him: Why exactly did you just reprimand a complete stranger in what in theory is a store where people should be allowed to pick things up and have a look?

So he looks at me like I have just asked an obscenely stupid question.

You are Muslim? I ask him. Would you like it it if I treated you differently simply because you have a frilly hat on and a dress??

Its not a —  you should go!

Why? Because I have offended you? Embarrassed you? You can do it to people who you assume to be one thing but I cant ask why?? I can’t demonstrate my ignorance with out rebuttal like you just did?

I had to sit still in the car for a few minutes before I could talk. And then I had to use Google maps to find a different hardware store. But I also had to wind down the window and tell the car guard to fuck and threaten to kick a hole through his remaining teeth if he didn’t stop glaring at my still embarrassed friend in the drivers seat.

Its simple. Be nice. If someone hurts you – then roll up your sleeves. But until that happens, try not wear a fucking blinking sign board on your head that says you are a moron and you just hate for the sake of hating. It is white people that have hurt me the most physically in this world. It is black people that have shown me more kindness in situations that I have needed serious compassion. I was homeless in London for a short time after the fire – and an Indian gentleman used to stop and check on me. Its got nothing to do with colour. It has to do with how you think.

Hate is an all consuming thing. But so is ignorance. There is a printing shop I use here. One of the girls behind the counter took a shine to me and told me she is pregnant and that the guy who was just in the store is the father. She then told me that he gave her the scar on her face. For a moment, I thought she was kidding. Then I told her she was an idiot.

She started to cry. It got awkward. She tried to tell me she had no choice. So I told her a little about me, and what happened to me – and then told her that if he ever hurts that child, she is as revolting as he is for ‘staying’.

Yes, I can say that. I have been the girl that gets the snot smacked out of her and worse – and now I am the warm fuzzy fluffy bunny with anger management issues.

I bought a sickle and an axe today. I have a cleaver and a machete. I plan on hanging them all on a wall with a sign that says: Pick one – and then try not to be fucking stupid.