Hate Crimes = Unequal Time

Justice Equity Without Justice Equality

I’m not an attorney. I’ve never been the victim of a violent crime. Something about it has always felt off—like a well-intentioned response that doesn't quite hold up under pressure. I understand why hate crime laws exist. I understand the desire to acknowledge pain and affirm the worth of victims who are targeted for who they are. But good intentions don’t always make good law. The more I consider these policies, the more uneasy I become.

Foundational Principles

Since the founding of the United States, American criminal law has rested on a core principle: a crime requires both a wrongful act (actus reus) and a guilty mind (mens rea). The law has never punished actions alone—it has demanded proof of intent. This distinction is not merely procedural; it is moral. It reflects an understanding that justice must weigh the human mind behind the act, not only the damage done.

That is not leniency. That is fairness.

This standard became a safeguard. It protected ordinary people from being criminalized for accidents. It forced the government to prove more than harm—to prove knowledge, purpose, motive. And over time, it became one of the most durable protections in American law.

The question of what we are truly punishing—the act or the mindset—sits at the heart of hate crime legislation.

What Hate Crime Laws Really Do

Hate crimes are not only about the crime. They’re about what the crime means. To supporters, these laws serve a broader purpose: they signal that crimes rooted in bias do more than hurt individuals—they traumatize communities. They are symbolic attacks, and therefore the punishment must send a symbolic response.

But here’s the danger: the justice system was not built for symbolism.

Hate crime laws turn the courtroom into a platform for cultural expression. They create a hierarchy of victims—and worse, a hierarchy of motives. They ask the court to evaluate not just what happened, but why someone thought the way they did. That is not justice. That is performance.

The Legal Line: Elonis v. United States

Consider Elonis v. United States (2015). Elonis was convicted for threatening posts he made online. But the Supreme Court ruled that negligence wasn't enough. The government had to prove he intended to threaten. That ruling reaffirmed the necessity of mens rea.

And yet, hate crime statutes reach beyond that threshold. They don’t just require proof of harm. They require an interpretation of ideology.

That shift—from action to meaning, from intent to interpretation—is subtle but dangerous. We begin sentencing people not only for the crime they committed, but for the message we believe they were trying to send. And that message is often read through the lens of public outrage.

Ask yourself: Are we sentencing people for what they did—or for what we feel about what they did?

The Emotional Cost of Legal Messaging

Yes, crimes driven by hatred leave a deeper scar. They reverberate through communities. They threaten the dignity and safety of whole groups of people. But the law must do more than acknowledge pain. It must uphold principle.

Justice does not exist to soothe us. It exists to restrain us. Even when we are angry. Even when we are right.

Some argue that killing someone because of their race or gender identity is worse than killing someone out of jealousy or revenge. But are we prepared to sentence people differently based on which motive offends us more?

Equal Justice Means Consistent Justice

Equal justice means consistent justice. It means the same crime should carry the same sentence, regardless of the victim's identity or the prevailing social narrative. It means we do not stretch the law to accommodate grief or outrage. We uphold the law to protect everyone equally.

So what’s the alternative? We can acknowledge community harm through impact statements. We can strengthen victim services. We can even enhance penalties based on demonstrable premeditation or repeat behavior. But we should not encode ideology into the criminal code. Because the beliefs society condemns today may not be the same ones it condemns tomorrow.

Where I Stand

I do not support hate crime laws.
Not because I support hate.
But because I believe the law should punish people for what they did—not who they hurt, and not what we think they believed while doing it.

Pain deserves acknowledgment. Victims deserve support. But punishment must remain grounded in action, not emotion. Once we elevate identity over equality, we turn justice into a performance.

This is the line. I won’t cross it.
But I hope you’ll stop and ask where yours is—and what you’re willing to compromise to feel heard.