We're all wounded, but some hide it better than others.
I write everyday hoping to find the right words to articulate the roots of my pain. I do this because it's therapeutic. I don't drink or do drugs, so writing is the only outlet I have from the soul crushing weight I feel at times. I try to choose my words carefully, even when I'm being provocative, but draining the venom from them is hard. Every time I press publish or send I know I risk alienating people I care about. This sucks!
Getting over the vulnerability that comes with exposing your deepest feelings is what separates great writers from really good writers. People who understand your message or relate to the subjects you write about don't care about grammatical errors or switches between passive and active voices. Those are details. If you are telling your truth, the people who follow your work will show up for the fire. If you have heat flowing through your pen or keyboard they will support you.
I choose to write about issues others would rather pretend don't exist. People who are deeply committed to remaining silient about important issues chastise me for writing about politics, racism, police brutality and a host of "controversial" topics. When someone accuses me of spreading hate it reminds me how disconnected I am from what passes as normal.
What some see as hate under the guise of philosophical and theological critique is actually me attempting to love my way through the darkness. On any given day I'm somewhere between throwing a brick and forgiving my enemies: I envy those who have made their choice in either direction. I sing take my hand precious Lord, but struggle to relax the fist my hand reflexively finds itself balled into. If you take words from people committed to non violence what are they left with?