'A hate-crime bill is a Midwestern value'

A fourth-grader was sitting in class. The little boy next to her called her names and teased her because of her thick glasses. The girl turned to her classmate and said, “I hate you!”

Their teacher, a Catholic nun, overheard the “hate” comment. The nun gripped the girl's shoulder and said, “Never say hate! Hate is a sin. You can strongly dislike someone, but you cannot hate them! Jesus taught us that we should love one another like we love ourselves.”

That fourth-grade girl was me. From that moment on, I have seldom used the word “hate.”

When I was young, there were degrading nicknames for every nationality, religion and all differences. My father was a Jewish immigrant from the Ukraine. You can imagine the names I heard him called. However, my Catholic Irish mother was also called names such as “mackerel snapper.” I heard awful names all the time. The Polish, Italians, the Czechoslovakians from my steel-mill community in eastern Ohio, all were called names – to their faces as well as behind their backs. People who were gay were whispered about with defamatory comments.

I find us now in a different world – a world where people do not just strongly dislike and call names but actually back up their dislike with mean rhetoric followed up by violence. The hate is steeped in anger that overflows into actions, not just words.

Name-calling is the beginning of hate. Anger and hate are not bad in and of themselves. When our anger drives us to actions that hurt others, such as hitting, throwing rocks or painting slurs on buildings, anger becomes bad. Today, the anger seems to have given people permission to use their hate to commit crimes.

I remember with horror and great sadness the reports of the young Wyoming college student found tied to a fence battered and bruised, near death just because he was gay.

I felt astonished and scared when hearing the reports of the shootings in Pittsburgh last fall at the synagogue, the graffiti on the wall of the Jewish temple in Indianapolis, the desecration of the Jewish Cemetery in Fort Wayne.

I worry very much when my evangelical Christian colleague tells me that Christians are some of the most persecuted people in the world.

I fear for my nephew-in-law from Africa who is often demeaned in Ohio for the color of his skin.

To deny that our hate of a particular group has become the motive or motivator for many horrible acts is putting our heads in the sand.

Indiana has been my home since 1982. I want to be proud of my state. I am proud of the “middle” of the country and of Midwest values.

Developing a strong hate-crime statute sends a message that Hoosiers are the good people I know we are. It tells those who have let their hate bubble over into destructive actions that their volatility is not welcome here. It announces to the world that “Hoosiers don't hate! Hoosiers don't let their anger spill over into heinous acts.”

I know we Hoosiers believe that all people deserve to be treated with respect and protected. We should not fear a strong hate-crime bill. A hate-crime bill is a Midwestern value.

My fourth grade nun told me that Jesus said, “Love one another like we love ourselves.” She did not say love only Catholics, whites and Americans.

We must love and protect all people. This protection must include people of color, people of different religions, people whose sexual orientation or gender identification are different than our own.

I have tried to eliminate hate from my language, but I now believe with recent actions of hate backed by anger, we need to make it a prominent word by passing hate crime legislation to say it is not who we are in Indiana.

I think my fourth-grade Catholic nun would agree with me this time. Hate in front of the word crimes is good legislation and a good use of the word today in keeping with her Christian values.