My brother – a huge NBA fan – likes to forward me the latest basketball news, as they combine his interests with my world of journalism.
On Tuesday night, he texted me that Miami Heat center Meyers Leonard used an anti-Semitic slur while livestreaming himself playing a video game.
“So people think his career is over now,” Torey’s text to me read.
It seemed like the natural result of the situation and, honestly, neither of us were really opposed to it.
The next morning, I texted Torey a link to a story in which representatives from the Heat confirmed that Leonard will “be away from the team indefinitely” after using the slur, confirming his conclusion.
Later, both the Heat’s owner and head coach condemned Leonard’s actions and he was fined $50,000.
It was a pretty predictable response and wouldn’t have resonated with me normally.
Something happened in between, though, that changed the story for me.
After Leonard’s words and the response from his team were publicized, New England Patriots wide receiver Julian Edelman posted an open letter to Leonard.
He began by clearly stating that he did not want to heap onto the criticism Leonard was facing.
No matter how hurtful Leonard’s words were, Edelman chose not to assume malice.
He wrote that he believed it was more likely that Leonard used the slur out of ignorance, not hate.
Leonard confirmed in his own, separate apology that he did not understand the history of the anti-Semitic term or the implications of using it.
There lies the issue, Edelman said.
He noted that intentional hatred is often met with resistance, while “casual ignorance” can be more widespread and even more difficult to combat.
“Hate is like a virus,” Edelman wrote. “Even accidentally, it can rapidly spread.”
He signed the letter by inviting Leonard to a Shabbat dinner with his friends, promising to “show (him) a fun time.”
I was genuinely surprised by how kind and well-intentioned the letter seemed to be, when it just as easily could have been a biting indictment.
I’m not Jewish and by no means feel the weight and cruelty of anti-Semitism, but I know it would’ve been much more difficult for me to take the high road if I were in Edelman’s position.
Maybe it’s a marker of how uncommon it is in our society, because I felt really moved by someone offering an opportunity for open dialogue even when they felt hurt by someone’s words or actions.
Of course, it’s Leonard’s responsibility to accept the offer, apologize and grow from his mistakes.
But I think the path to get there is a lot clearer when we approach ignorance the way Edelman did.
-Kayleen Petrovia is a reporter for the Journal-Tribune