This morning I came face to
face with hate: at least a historic representation of it. Up against a dark
wall in the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute stood a glass case holding a KKK
uniform and burnt wooden cross. Something drew me to the case and a feeling of
pure hatred washed over me. I had nothing but hate to feel while looking
into the empty eyeholes of the white robe uniform. I could imagine eyes
starting out of those holes, eyes just radiating with hate and injustice. I
stood there as I felt hate towards this robe, towards the person who had the
audacity to don it, towards the evil for which it stands for. I don't think I
have ever felt such hate or anger towards anything, and I don't know why I felt
it then. But there I stood, facing hate: my own hate towards that cloak
and the the hateful reputation that the cloak has maintained throughout
history. As I reflect back on this now, less than a day after, it still puzzles
me. I have no explanation for the hate I felt and maybe that is fine, but it alarmed
me that I felt it. Something about that moment and the feelings circulating
through me is forever etched in my mind. I don't think I will ever be able to
forget the expression on my face and the boiling sensation in me.
Rebbeca Margolis, The Park
School of Baltimore
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