There are a few people on this earth who have managed to obtain widescale approval and admiration due to their amiability. They’re the Tom Hollands and Zendayas of the world. Generally likeable dispositions and a genuine, down-to-earth charm that attracts various personalities.
Yet, people hate them.
Not a lot of people despise these amiable gods and goddesses, but some do. For what reason?
It doesn’t matter (usually). The same reason why millions can love one person could be the reason why a few hate them. It could also come down to uncontrollable factors for the “despised individual”, such as racism, sexism, and other biases that run off pre-conceived prejudices rather than the individual’s actual core self.
Speaking of pre-conceived, the dislike could simply come from a poor first impression and an unwillingness to see past that—or it could come from a miscommunication or misconception that was never given the opportunity to be corrected or openly reconsidered.
We become powerless under the interpretation of others.
Once upon a time, safe space became a popular term. You may remember this as being important for LGBTQ+ kids who needed trusted adults to talk to. It was. However, the movement for these spaces did not only advocate for marginalized groups receiving acceptance, but it also pushed for a change in this powerlessness that any one of us can face. The powerlessness against false interpretation and false labeling of character. It called for each person to put in the effort to ask questions, listen, and attempt to understand a person for who they are as an individual, rather than rely on the story they’ve assigned that person in their head.
But no matter how often we parade the importance of a safe space and safe approaches to our judgment calls, it doesn’t change this: People won’t like you.
You can be one of the most amiable celebrities with a generous heart and all the universally agreed upon values, and you will have people who won’t like you.
Certainly, you know this. I’ve known this.
Yet, if you’re like me, you might hate the idea of being hated. I began to ask myself questions: In what way does this bother me? Why?
I unlocked answers to these questions when I painted myself this picture: Someone gets to know me. Perhaps they’re not a close friend. Maybe they’re more a friend of a friend who I see at get togethers. This person sees me in different environments and acting in different ways. They get to know a decent bit about me; again, maybe it’s not the specifics, but they mostly understand my personality.
One day, an interaction occurs with this person and rubs them the wrong way. They don’t shake it off. They end up disliking me.
That’s one half of the picture.
On the other half, there’s someone who barely knows me. They’ve maybe seen some of my social media posts and read some of my blog posts. Maybe they’ve heard gossip—false or true—about some big event or action in my life. Without ever interacting with me or trying to know me as a person, they end up disliking me. Hating me even.
These two scenarios have similar endings, but their effects on me differ. After imagining these realistic experiences which many, including myself, have gone through, I realized that the first didn’t have as much weight as the second.
Logic would say that a stranger hating me should hurt less than someone floating in my circle of interaction. Certainly there are instances where that would probably be the case, but for the most part, it hasn’t been.
On YouTube, I’ve heard influencers say similarly. Logically, they couldn’t understand why they were invested in what strangers thought of them, but they were.
Not all of us are influencers, but perhaps you can relate. Maybe you attended high school with someone you vaguely knew and for some reason, that person had antipathy toward you. Maybe there’s a friend of an ex—or an ex of a friend—or a friend of an ex-friend—who got one heavily filtered synopsis of you and fully based their opinion off of that.
Whatever the reasons, it can be harder to remove these sticky feelings of hurt. Displeasure lodges into the crevices of your head and heart whenever these people pop up in your life. Like bitter honey stuck to your hands, you end up with webbed fingers and the inability to cleanly grasp onto anything that may pull you out of this mess. Everything becomes gross with the taste of this dislike, and soon your mind is as stuck as a bug in a beehive. You cannot find a place where this does not stare you in the face.
I cannot stand these messes. The inescapable, bothersome, dirty little nuisance that impedes upon my thoughts over and over is that “they don’t even know me!”
Okay. So a friend of a friend got to know me a little bit, had a bad moment with me, and decided they didn’t like me. Well, they know I’m not all bad and they’ve seen me in different situations. If they paint me as a villain, that’s on them. They have the information.
The other people? They don’t have all the information!
Is it on them that they make broad judgments about someone they have not gotten to know? Yes! But if only they did have the information. If only they took the time to get to know me. If only they opened themselves up to creating safe spaces and trying to foster mutual understanding.
The idea of “maybe” is perhaps the real killer here. Because maybe they wouldn’t hate me if they knew me. Maybe if there was some way I could devise a situation where they could get to know me—and I could get to know them (because I am a likable person who cares … in my eyes)—then this hate would be needless. This hate could be healed from all of our hearts.
Alas, such contrived scenarios would be impossible if not exceedingly difficult to create, and even if a natural discussion with the party could be directly proposed, they would likely reject it. Because they hate you.
I’ve made attempts in the past to repair a friendship with someone holding a grudge, or tried to talk with someone stuck in my life and hating me without knowing me. I’ve created chances to mend whatever discord or misunderstanding might be occurring. It’s not hopeless. I believe there are people out there who are open to creating those safe spaces and desirous of finding healing through understanding. I believe there are people open to letting their opinions change and letting other people change and be accepted.
But in my own life, I’ve found that most of these attempts are to no avail. The friend with the grudge might remain quiet and closed off, even if they show up to reconnect. The attempt to meet for a conversation might get shot down or ignored by the person in which there’s a discord with.
We can dive into the mental health of the other people and focus on their problems: they’re projecting insecurities, they’re afraid of intimacy, they fear admitting they’re wrong, they’re holding onto grudges, they’re hypocritical, they’re not trying. That might provide some comfort, but focusing on their potential issues doesn’t solve the real problem.
Why do we let these people and their ideas stick to us?
It’s important to find the answer that resonates with you. For me, I think it’s partially because I fear not being able to influence and change others to see the truth of who I am. If my words have no effect—if they hate a person in their head who isn’t really me and doesn’t really exist—then it makes me feel like I might as well be Ariel, opening her mouth to speak and nothing of substance coming out. Results as good as if I had stayed silent. Complete powerlessness.
That’s scary. That’s real. And that’s what matters.
The fears I am facing are the real problem—not to minimize the impact of the actions of others, because their harm is real too. But when it comes down to it, what these other people think? Well, it sucks, but what they think doesn’t carry as much as what I know about myself. Knowing why I have these feelings gives me the chance to do something about them. It gives me power back.
Now … the answer to resolving the inward torment?
Ha! I may know what my feelings are, but I don’t have an answer for complete resolution. Not yet. I do know that I don’t want to control others, which means I need to accept that I also cannot feed all my focus into influencing a person. Dare I slip on the slope and put so much effort into influence that it may as well be force.
For now, I suppose my best answer is this: I can continue creating safe spaces and reaching out to others when possible. I can accept when they don’t accept my attempts for reconciliation. I can continue attempting to be the type of person I would love and admire, owning and working on my faults all the while. Then I can remind myself of those traits I’ve embodied—traits that I love—and ride the wave of invasive thoughts about how these people don’t like me… until the wave draws away from the shore again and the thoughts disappear, as all thoughts do at one point, and all I’m left with is the surety that I am a person who cares. I am a person who works on themself. I am a person who desires positive connection in this world.
People may hate you. People hate me. People hate Tom Holland and Zendaya! But if we can figure out why that matters to us then we can know ourselves better and work with what we can control: ourselves, how we navigate our feelings, and how we act based on the information these inward guides give us.
“Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” Aristotle said it well, but may I add this: Loving yourself is the beginning of all change. Perhaps, simplified, this is the answer: the hate of others will stick to us less if we actively practice loving ourselves and loving others more.
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