Intolerant of Intolerance

The past few days in dealing with the world I've found myself a bit down on "humanity" again.

Each time I write a post of this nature I tend to draw some comments that question if I am actually not this way as well.  I don't think that I am, but I do have some traits that project the same kind of intolerance.  I am intolerant of intolerance.

I don't reject others based upon sex, race, religion, sexuality, gender, and so on.  I do reject others based upon stubbornly clinging to wanton ignorance, hatred based upon those things I listed above, and certain irresponsible behaviors that really aren't forgivable because there isn't a reasonable reason/excuse for doing them.

I've written before about facing racial prejudice first hand.  I don't know why I get angrier when it's something I witness or hear about that doesn't happen directly to me.

When I was in 6th grade a black family moved in about 3-4 miles away from me.  This was before the demographic had shifted... before a reasonable percentage of the community had become diversified (usually Hispanic).  Within a week of them moving in someone burned a cross in their yard.

The caught the person that did it.  It was an 18 year old white dude that lived in my town.  He was let off easy with probation and some community service because "it was a joke" and he "didn't intend to do any harm." 

Seriously?  Fuck.  I don't see how that could ever be interpreted as a joke.  I don't see any reason why someone would ever do something like that without intending to harm.  Using a symbol of some of the most horrific events of our country's history to inflict terror and fear upon people because they are different... yes... a joke, right. 

My senior year in high school (pre-Columbine), a group home opened up within our district that housed inner-city kids from unsafe homes.  Several of them were black and ended up attending my school.  The city I lived in was on the edge of rural.  The part closest to the city were everything you'd expect from a suburb.  The parts farthest away from the city were farms or isolated homesteads.  One day as we were leaving one of the rednecks approached one of the black students and said "Better watch out, I've got a shotgun in my truck and I might be goin coon hunting after school."

I remember a few of us that were nearby just about lost our shit.  The threatened party was calm and didn't even respond.  When asked why he didn't retaliate his response was simple: "this place is so much better than where I'm from.  I'm not going to fuck that up."

While the threat may have been a "joke," it was quite likely that they actually had a shotgun in their truck.  To this day I still want to kick that kid's teeth in. 

I know that a lot of my depression stems from my view of the world and of people.  It does nothing to really help me to feel that way.  I am convinced that I must always be angry and outraged when I should be angry and outraged.  There are certain things I never want to accept or tolerate.  There are certain things that I hope to God that it is never "okay" to allow them to happen.  If that makes me a worse person, I can accept that.