Whenever something bad happens, people like to talk about love winning over hate. Light winning over darkness. It sounds pretty— it’s the image we’ve cradled in our mind from every storybook where the knight slays the dragon.
I’d like to believe that love wins over hate. That light, eventually, triumphs over darkness every time. But I’ve noticed one thing over the years: when we talk about love winning, we don’t like to talk about it having to fight. We don’t like to talk about love suiting up in armor and strapping on a sword. We like to think of love standing on the sidelines, waiting for the evil to pass. We like to think of love as passive. But every love I’ve ever known is a verb. And every love I’ve ever known will go to the mat.