A small thing that stayed with me
I recently noticed that an acquaintance unfriended me on social media.
She’s a former colleague. We weren’t close, but we stayed connected online. I only realised later that it probably had something to do with a post I shared weeks ago.
When we were in Munich, I posted a story that we had dinner at a Jewish restaurant. We arrived late, we were hungry, and the place was literally one minute from our hotel. The food was good. The people were kind. That’s really all there was to it.
Some time after that, she sent me a message asking if I was aware of “what the Israelis are doing to children”.
It didn’t feel like a genuine question. It felt like a lecture. The kind where the answer doesn’t matter, because the judgement is already there.
I was honestly surprised. Not because I’m unaware of the situation — I’ve read enough, I’ve looked at different sides, and I don’t need to be educated via someone’s anger. What surprised me was how quickly a normal, everyday moment was turned into a moral accusation.
I wasn’t talking about politics. I wasn’t making a statement. I was sharing where we ate dinner.
I didn’t reply. Not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t want to be dragged into an argument I never signed up for. I didn’t feel like explaining myself for eating at a restaurant.
Weeks later, I realised she had unfriended me.
I don’t really mind. What stayed with me was the way hate seems to slip into ordinary things so easily. How people start attaching collective guilt to individuals, to food, to places, to daily life.
If we follow that logic, where does it stop? Should I also hate Japanese people because of what Japan did during the war — including killing innocent civilians and children — and never properly apologising for it? You don’t hear that every day. You don’t get lectured for eating at a Japanese restaurant.
The restaurant in Munich wasn’t a symbol. They weren’t “supporting” anything. They were just people trying to make a living. The place was busy. They welcomed us. They treated us nicely.
I don’t want to live carrying that kind of hate around. Hating races, hating people, hating strangers because of history or politics. It’s exhausting, and it doesn’t make the world better.
So if someone decides they don’t want to stay connected because I refuse to see everything through that lens, that’s fine.
I’d rather keep my life simple: eat good food, treat people decently, and not turn everyday moments into battlefields.