There’s an emptiness in the word “tolerance.” Tolerance gets thrown around as a virtue, as if it’s enough to earn us gold stars in some social morality game. But the truth is, it’s a word that feels more like a sigh than a handshake. It feels like holding your breath through a conversation you don’t want to have, with a person you’d rather not be talking to. Still, you do anyway because you’re trying to be “tolerant.”

I get it. We’re tired. The world is loud, complicated, and exhausting. Everyone’s shouting, or at least it feels that way, and it’s tempting to set up emotional borders around ourselves to get through the day. Tolerance is a practical compromise. You stay in your corner, and I’ll stay in mine. Let’s not make a scene. But what if that’s no longer enough? What if it never was?

The word tolerance, at its core, is about enduring something such as a noise, discomfort, or itch. Something you’d prefer to be rid of but can’t, so you learn to live with it. That’s not exactly a warm foundation for human connection. You can “tolerate” someone while still secretly resenting everything about them. You can go years thinking you’re being a good person because you’ve managed not to snap, not to lash out, not to say the quiet part out loud. But inside, the distance grows. You feel it, and so do they. I don’t want to be tolerated. Do you?

Most of us want to be known, or at least seen. We........

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