Before I publish this story in a few hours, I would like to discuss with you the meaning of "chasing the hatred."
Hatred is an emotion often treated like fire. It burns, it scorches, it obliterates. However, not all fire merely destroys... Some fires warm, illuminate, and even allow metal to be forged into something stronger and more useful. The question stands: does hatred deserve only to be extinguished, or are we permitted to study it, perhaps even chase it?
Many avoid the word "hatred" as if it were a poison dangerous enough simply by being spoken. From childhood, we are taught to love, to forgive, to be patient, and to accept. And true, these values are beautiful, noble, and essential for our collective survival. However, not everything we hate is born merely from the malice within us. Sometimes, hatred is born of wounds, of injustice, of unredeemed humiliation. In such cases, refusing to acknowledge the hatred is akin to refusing to acknowledge that the wound is real.
Thus, "chasing the hatred" does not mean celebrating vengeance, but rather having the courage to gaze into the dark visage we so often cast into the corners of our consciousness. Chasing the hatred means running toward it, not away from it. We summon it from its hiding place rather than suppressing it deep within. For only then can we understand it, and ultimately, perhaps, if we are lucky, we can tame it.
First, let us ask: why is hatred born?
The short answer: because of love.
One hates because something they love has been wounded, betrayed, or insulted. Hatred never stands alone. It is the dark shadow of love. Observe a mother in a rage against someone who has harmed her child. That is not mere anger; that is hatred. Yet, that hatred is born of a profound love for her child.
We hate oppression because we love justice. We hate lies because we love the truth. We hate betrayal because we love trust.
Thus, hatred is a testament that we still care. A person who is numb no longer hates; they are merely apathetic. Hatred, however dark, demonstrates that the fire of life still burns within us.
But herein lies the danger: that fire can easily consume oneself. If the love that birthed the hatred is not guarded, it transforms into a destructive obsession. At that point, hatred ceases to be a witness to love and begins to become a poison that slowly kills.
Most humans choose to flee from hatred. We close our eyes, we attempt to forget, we say: "I no longer care." But is it true that we do not care? Or are we merely hiding it inside a black sack in the corner of our hearts?
The problem is, what we hide rarely truly disappears. It resurfaces when we least expect it. Like the roots of weeds that continue to grow even after the stems are cut, deeply suppressed hatred will seek a fissure through which to emerge. Sometimes in the form of nightmares, sometimes in small outbursts of emotion, sometimes in the form of mysterious physical ailments.
Thus, the opposing choice is: chasing the hatred.
To chase it means: we do not let it run ahead of us as a terrifying shadow; instead, we pursue it, we capture it, we examine it. We ask: From where were you born? What are you protecting? What do you want from me?
In this way, hatred ceases to be a ghost and transforms into a teacher.
Every hatred we feel is a mirror. It reflects not only the face of the one we despise but our own face as well.
A simple example: if we hate a liar, perhaps there is a part within us that has lied, and we despise it. If we hate an arrogant person, perhaps there is a part of us that fears appearing small. In other words, hatred is projection.
However, that mirror is often cracked. It does not reflect perfectly. Sometimes we hate someone not because they are truly evil, but because they remind us of something unresolved within ourselves.
A philosopher once said:
"When you see a man of worth, think of how you may emulate him. When you see a man of contrary character, turn inwards and examine yourself."
— Confucius
It exists to reveal the facets of ourselves that need healing.
Chasing hatred means daring to look into the mirror, even if the reflection is painful.
It is not only individuals who hate; societies hate as well. Collective hatred is the fuel of war. It transmits itself from mouth to mouth, from generation to generation. Tribe hates tribe, nation hates nation, religion hates religion. And ironically, that hatred is often nurtured with full consciousness, as if it were an heirloom that must be passed down.
An important question arises: can collective hatred be overcome by individual love? Or is there another way?
Perhaps the answer lies precisely in "chasing the hatred" collectively. This means society no longer feigns peace on the surface while fires still rage beneath, but rather honestly traces the roots of that hatred. Who hurt whom? When did the wound begin? What is truly at stake?
We cannot heal social wounds without first daring to chase the hatred that underlies them.
Hatred is a double-edged sword. If left alone, it will cut us down. But if grasped with full awareness, it can become an instrument of liberation.
History records many figures who used their hatred of injustice as fuel for their struggle. They hated oppression, and thus they moved, they resisted, and they created change.
However, there is a crucial distinction between hatred that chases revenge and hatred that chases justice. The former demands the suffering of others as a salve for pain. The latter demands that truth be upheld so that everyone may be free, including generations to come.
Thus, chasing the hatred also means sifting through our motivations: do we desire a just world, or do we merely desire our enemy's suffering?
How does one chase hatred without falling into the same abyss?
There are several steps to consider:
1. Do not deny the hatred. Say to yourself: "I hate." It is not a sin; it is honesty.
2. Ask: From what wound is this hatred born? From what betrayed love?
3. Hatred always carries a message. Sometimes it says: "You must protect yourself better." Sometimes it says: "You need to demand justice."
4. Instead of venting it through violence, we can channel it into art, writing, social movements, or prayer.
5. After hatred has taught us, it is time to let it go. For if we continue to embrace it, it will turn into a lethal burden.
"Chasing the hatred" sounds like a contradiction. Why chase something dark? Why not simply run towards love?
However, life is not solely about chasing the light. Sometimes, to understand the light, we must dare to enter the darkness. We must chase the hatred, not to nurture it, but to recognize it. We chase it not because we wish to be its slave, but because we wish to be its master.
I write this chapter not to invite you to hate, but to invite you to dare to see your own hatred. Do not run. Do not hide. Chase it, catch it, listen to it. And after that, make the most human of decisions: will you let it become poison, or will you turn it into a lesson?
For in the end, hatred is merely a door. You can allow it to confine you in a dark room, or you can open that door and step out, towards a deeper understanding of yourself, and of humanity.