What I Learned Yesterday

by Jason Brown

Yesterday, I learned something I never wanted to admit out loud: the hate spewing from the sewers of the American people may be too strong for us to ever truly unite.

I once believed, maybe stubbornly, that if we worked hard enough to bridge the divide, we could find common ground. I started those conversations. I extended my hand across the political and cultural chasm, thinking that shared humanity would shine through the noise. I wanted to believe that kindness and patience could outweigh the bitterness.

But what I discovered is sobering. The hate and the venom, the quickness to judge, dismiss, or attack—it runs deep, and it drowns out the good on both sides. The anger doesn’t just linger on the edges anymore; it feels like it’s become the center.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t good people—there are, everywhere. But the volume of hate is louder, the energy behind it stronger, and the willingness to step away from it weaker. Too many seem to prefer rage over reason, spite over solutions, and division over dialogue.

It leaves me asking: where do we go from here? Do we resign ourselves to this endless cycle of hostility, or do we keep trying, even when the odds seem stacked against unity?

I don’t have the answer today. All I know is what I learned from yesterday—that hope feels fragile when faced with so much hate. And yet, perhaps the very act of seeing it clearly is the first step toward finding a better way.

By Jason Brown