Who Taught You to Fear Thy Neighbor?

There are fears we are born with—falling, loud noises, the dark. And then there are fears we are taught.

No child begins life fearing their neighbor. That fear is handed down. Sometimes with words. Often with glances. Occasionally with silence.

We inherit these fears the same way we inherit eye color or family recipes—quietly, without ceremony, through years of watching and listening. “Be careful in that part of town.” “People like that always have an agenda.” “Those people don’t live like we do.” Sometimes it is not even spoken aloud. Just a locked car door at a red light. A tense shift in tone. A headline that plays to suspicion instead of truth.

And before we know it, fear becomes familiar. Comfortable. Even righteous.

But here is the truth: fear, left unexamined, is a tool of division. It is how systems of oppression are built. Not by fire and fury, but by everyday unease left unchallenged.

Fear as a Political Strategy

Today, our fears are no longer passed down just around the dinner table—they are broadcast in prime time, tweeted in all caps, and codified in political speeches that warn us not of injustice, but of each other.

Leaders across the political spectrum have learned that fear works. It motivates. It polarizes. It distracts. Why address crumbling schools or climate collapse when you can convince people the real threat is their neighbor with a different yard sign, different political beliefs, different lifestyle, different skin color or gender, or their gender identity?

We are being trained—systematically—to see one another not as fellow citizens, but as enemies in a cultural war we did not ask for and do not benefit from.

When fear becomes currency, truth is the casualty. When leaders pit us against one another, unity becomes radical. And when division becomes the norm, healing becomes an act of rebellion.

Thoreau’s Warning Still Echoes

Thoreau withdrew to the woods to examine life honestly, apart from the noise of society. If he were here today, he would not be surprised by the noise. But he would be disappointed by how easily we mistake it for truth.

He once wrote, “It is never too late to give up our prejudices.” And perhaps now—when we are more digitally connected yet spiritually divided than ever—that message matters most.

An Invitation to Unlearn

Unlearning fear is not a passive process. It demands courage—the kind of quiet, daily courage to question what we have been taught. It means walking across the street instead of turning away. Asking a question instead of making an assumption. Listening when it would be easier to judge.

We do not have to wait for our leaders to stop sowing fear. We can choose a different way—neighbor to neighbor, story by story.

Because the stranger you were told to fear might be the one who helps you remember your own humanity.

Reflection Questions:

Take a few minutes to reflect on the following questions. In the comment section below share some of your thoughts. Let us begin the conversation of unlearning our fears together.

• What fear have I inherited that no longer serves me?

• Where have I let headlines define how I view real people?

• How might I turn curiosity into connection this week?

Closing Thought: When we unlearn fear, we make room for understanding. And when we choose understanding, we begin the quiet work of healing what division has broken. The path back to one another is overgrown but not lost. Step b