Why Hatred Is Easy and Respect Feels, Well, Impossible

I’m going to break down a scenario that might hit a little too close to home, in hopes you might relate and rethink. Imagine this.

You, at your core, fundamentally and vehemently believe that a woman should have full autonomy and ownership over her body, henceforth giving her the right to have an abortion if she so chooses.

A mutual—maybe someone you’ve met twice or heard of often—reposts a graphic from a religious organization that denounces abortion as murder.

Or vice versa. You were raised Christian. You believe at your core that abortion is sinful and that, in most cases, it should be illegal. You see a post on a distant friend’s story that rejects this idea and maybe even pins “your side” as anti-woman.

In either case, you respond by clicking on the post, reading the comments, rolling your eyes, DMing that person to tell them they are insert derogatory language here, hitting unfollow, and carrying on about your day.

Sound familiar?

What we just witnessed is a prime example of what I see on social media every day.

Unfortunately, it’s normal—and it’s easy.

Hatred, or at least the casual, socially acceptable version of it we practice online, is incredibly easy. It requires almost nothing from us. No curiosity. No humility. No willingness to be uncomfortable. All it takes is a quick emotional reaction and a thumbs-up from people who already agree with you.

Respect, on the other hand, is inconvenient.

Respect means pausing before firing off a response. It means acknowledging that someone’s belief system didn’t appear out of thin air. It was shaped by family dinners, church pews, college classrooms, personal experiences, and deeply held values. Respect asks us to consider that the person on the other side of the screen might actually be thoughtful, compassionate, and sincere—even if we believe they’re wrong.

Side note: it’s okay—actually, it’s necessary—to believe someone is wrong.

Hatred doesn’t require imagination. Respect does.

When we choose contempt, we paint the other person into a caricature. The pro-choice advocate becomes “heartless.” The pro-life advocate becomes “misogynistic.” Suddenly the complex, layered human being behind the opinion disappears. All that remains is a label. And labels are really easy to hate.

But here’s the reality: most people aren’t villains in their own story. Most people genuinely believe they are advocating for something good—protecting life, protecting freedom, protecting dignity, protecting justice.

Two people can care deeply about humanity and still land on opposite conclusions. Acknowledging that doesn’t mean surrendering your beliefs. It doesn’t mean diluting your convictions or pretending every argument is equally valid. It simply means recognizing the humanity of the person across from you.

And if that’s the case—which I truly believe it is—what might our scenario look like if either person used just a little more curiosity?

Let’s look:

You, at your core, fundamentally and vehemently believe that a woman should have full autonomy and ownership over her body, henceforth giving her the right to have an abortion if she so chooses.

A mutual—maybe someone you’ve met twice or heard of often—reposts a graphic from a religious organization that denounces abortion as murder.

Or vice versa. You were raised Christian. You believe at your core that abortion is sinful and that, in most cases, it should be illegal. You see a post on a distant friend’s story that rejects this idea and maybe even pins “your side” as anti-woman.

Here’s the change.

Instead of DMing that person to tell them they are insert derogatory language here, hitting unfollow, and carrying on about your day, what if you took a second to breathe and thought to yourself, Well, I have friends who really like this person. I wonder what I’m missing by categorizing them under this one belief.

What if you—brace yourself—asked them to coffee? Not just to discuss this topic, but to understand them as a person. Researchers from the Center for Media Engagement at UT Austin say you could even start by “bonding over less polarizing issues.” (There’s a lot of good info here.)

Who knows? Maybe you would even get a new friend out of it.

And if not—if coffee goes horribly wrong and you leave in tears—then at least you took a step toward combating your judgment, one relationship at a time.

Respect doesn’t mean agreement. It means restraint. It means choosing curiosity over mockery. It means asking why before declaring someone the enemy.

And frankly, that’s harder. A lot harder. But it’s necessary.

The moment we decide the other side is beyond respect is the moment we stop trying to understand them. And there’s a lot of irreversible damage that comes from that. Just see your history book.

So before you roll your eyes and swipe to the next story, take a second to sit with your thoughts. Even if you decide not to react or ask them to coffee, at least you took a second to think.

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