When I was a kid, every once in a while I would say something along the lines of “I hate her.” As most of us know this is preteen speak for “I hate how that person made me feel.”
And if I said this in front of my dad, he would say, “Don’t say ‘hate.’” And I would ask him why not because it didn’t seem like such an awful thing to say. And, in fact, it felt rather empowering at an age when I felt pretty powerless.
My dad, who was at an age in which the memory of the Holocaust was still a little too fresh in mind, would say “Hating is something you always regret.”
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