I feel it’s necessary for me to make a confession. Our many friends know me to be generally a kind-hearted and compassionate kind of person. Yet, what you may not know is that inside me dwells a hatred that is neither Christian or compassionate. At this Christmas season, maybe you can find forgiveness in your hearts or sympathy for my attitude. I must confess to my friends a deep rooted attitude of hatred and a propensity toward violence. Not with everyone, certainly not toward my friends and family. But there is one who has pushed me to the edge and my attitude is evil toward him.
With him, violence rises up within me. I always try to find the best in someone, but this one, this one is too much for me. I realize that he was created by God just like me. I realize that he probably has a family and friends, just like me, but his appearance and character just push me too far. In short, he bugs me. To put it bluntly – he’s ugly.
Now I realize that it’s not his fault. I don’t mean to judge, please don’t judge me for judging him. But, honestly, I can’t get past it. His black beady eyes constantly shifting, his voice is like an irritating buzz in my ears. I don’t even listen to his words. I would be more content if he would just shut-up.
He’s so small, smaller than most, yet an attitude that he can conquer the world. Little man’s syndrome we call it. He looks at me with such disdain. He doesn’t care what I think or what I say. His black skin just crawls with disease and filth.
You see he spends his time in the dirty places, places you and I would never go. He eats food I would never touch. A beggar by nature, he finds a smelly dumpster to be a smorgasbord of delight. I understand that we should give to the less fortunate, but I simply refuse to share my food with him. I would rather he starve than touch my food. When he sees my food I cover it from his eyes. I don’t even want him looking at me. He repulses me. I don’t even feel remorse for my hatred. I simply want him dead and removed from the earth.
He spends his days in the most disgusting and dark places, places an ordinary white man would never dare to go, yet he comes to me and sits near me and occasionally touches me. I don’t want him to touch me or be near me. He’s here, he’s there, he moves around the room like an invited guest. He eats my food when I’m not looking, I’ve even seen him drink from my cup and I’m so repulsed that I dump it down the drain rather than touch it to my lips again. I want him out of my house but he refuses to go. I want him gone. I want him dead.
He even touches my wife and my children, like an intimate friend. Hatred rises up in me and in them. Has he no sense of decency? This is my family! This is my home! Yet he is near us and touches in ways that boil my blood. They have no compassion either. They have learned to hate him too. We attempt to ignore him whenever possible. But there comes a time, when his pastiness overwhelms one of us and we will reach for the nearest fly swatter and kill him in an instant.