Burning Beneath

Tonight we were sitting together at the table breaking our fast during Ramadan. It was around 6:30 in the evening. Just me and my three boys. My daughter is still in Chatham for college, so it was the four of us sharing that quiet moment together.

Near the end of the meal I asked a simple question.

Do you know what is happening in the Middle East right now? Do you know there is a war?

I hesitated before asking it. I have never pushed politics on my children. I never raised them to hate anyone. Not because of religion, race, color, gender, or anything else. I always wanted them to grow up thinking for themselves and seeing people simply as people.

Years ago, when I came out to my oldest son, his response was simple. He looked at me and said, “Mom, love is love.” There was no criticism, no hesitation, no strange look. Just acceptance. That moment filled me with pride because it meant I had raised a decent human being.

So tonight, when the conversation turned to the world and what is happening around us, I expected curiosity or maybe confusion.

What I did not expect was the depth of disappointment I heard in my oldest son’s voice.

He is only twenty two.

At some point during the conversation he said something that stopped me.

He said he hates everyone. He hates human interaction because people are stupid, full of drama, lies, and deceit.

Hearing that from him made me pause.

Our home was not broken. Yes, his father and I separated years ago, and even before that while we lived in the same house we had already grown apart. But we were never the kind of couple who fought loudly in front of the kids. There was never screaming, swearing, or violence. We kept our disagreements away from them.

After the separation I made sure I never spoke badly about their father in front of them. What matters here is that my children grew up in a stable home. They were hugged, loved, kissed. They were allowed to follow what their hearts wanted, academically and in life. That does not mean there were no rules. There were boundaries and limits, but always with love.

And I see the fruits of that.

My son is doing well in college. He has a scholarship. He helps his younger brothers, especially my autistic son. I see him cooking with him, guiding him, even teaching him how to protect himself when needed. I see him playing with them and stepping naturally into a protective role.

So when he said he hates everyone, I started thinking about what that actually meant.

Because the truth is, a person who truly hates people does not behave the way my son behaves.

He still cares deeply about his family.

He stepped away from unhealthy friendships instead of getting pulled into them.

He recognized toxic environments and chose distance rather than participation.

And most importantly, he spoke honestly to me about how he feels.

That honesty tells me something important. It means he trusts me.

As we talked, I realized something else.

What he expressed may not really be hatred. It may actually be disappointment.

When young adults first step fully into the real world, they begin to see things they were protected from during childhood. Manipulation. Addiction. Shallow behavior. Crime. Endless drama. People hurting each other for no reason.

For someone who grew up with clear values, seeing those things up close can feel like a betrayal of what they believed the world should be.

Sometimes the first reaction is withdrawal.

Sometimes it sounds like anger.

But often it is simply a young mind trying to make sense of a complicated world.

My son described what he sees around him. People chasing attention. People constantly high. People involved in chaos and drama. He is not blind to it.

And strangely, I am glad he can see it.

Because that means he can distinguish between what is healthy and what is destructive. It means he understands when something drains his energy and chooses to step away.

What hurt me was not his awareness. It was hearing how exhausted he already feels at such a young age.

So I spoke to him about something important.

I reminded him that even one voice can make a difference in this world. History is full of individuals who chose kindness and courage even when the world around them was dark.

I told him I do not expect him to ignore reality. The world is complicated and sometimes very ugly.

But what I hope for him is that his candle will never dim.

I want him to protect his peace without losing his compassion. I want him to be wise about the people he surrounds himself with, but never lose the part of him that still cares.

And when I look at his actions, I realize something.

Maybe he is not losing his goodness.

Maybe he is simply learning how to navigate the world.

I trust my son.

I trust his judgment.

And maybe this moment is simply part of growing up. A stage where the world feels heavier than expected.

All I can do as a parent is continue walking beside him, offering guidance, hope, and love until the day he stands fully on his own.

But the truth is, when I look at the young man he is becoming, I think he is already doing exactly that.