I realize that there is absolutely nothing unique in my reaction. When something like what happened to Matthew Shepard occurs, people all across the nation express their outrage at such brutality.

And so, quickly the wheels of democracy begin to turn.

Across the nation, leaders and citizens are calling for legislation to punish the perpetrators of hate crimes. Across the nation there has been a call for an end to the kind of intolerance that could produce such violence.

I, along with my fellow bandwagon-riders, welcomed this heightened awareness of the hate that exists in our society.

But where were we even a couple of days ago?

The level of intolerance in this country has not risen dramatically in the last few days, only our awareness of it has. Sure, in the wake of a heinous act we’re outraged, but soon bigotry will find its way again to the back burner.

A certain level of intolerance exists in all of us, and we’re ashamed of it. So while we’re outraged by the death of Matthew Shepard, we’re also uneasy about being reminded how far we as the human race have yet to go.

And how does it speak for us as a society that it takes such an event to make us open our mouths and protest injustice?

Of course we were outraged when Matthew Shepard was killed, but the real heroes are the people who are outraged by any act of intolerance.

In many social circles, discrimination against homosexuals is the last socially acceptable form of bigotry.

So why haven’t I written about it until now? Is intolerance a more pervasive issue now than it was last week?

Of course not. The only thing that’s changed in myself and many people is that now we’re scared. We’re scared of what can happen when we don’t speak up.

That is a good thing; a very good thing.

As Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

This becomes a very tall order because the sound of bigotry rings through the din of everyday life far more than in the thunder of one violent act.

This brings me to an even darker reality. Though they may be in remission right now, jokes about homosexuals — and even Shepard himself — will certainly resurface.

While we scoff at the idea now, by the time the cock crows three times, many of us will have laughed at these jokes.

I’m just as guilty as anyone else. I’ve laughed at jokes grounded in bigotry before, and I probably will again.

In fact, there was a time when I thought there was nothing wrong with joking around with my friends because we all knew we weren’t bigots.

But the fact of the matter is that this easygoing nature about intolerance is much more of a social disease than any extreme act of violence.

In addition, removing bigotry from the nooks and crannies of our society is far more difficult than condemning it on the public stage. We have and will continue to pass legislation to do that.

But how will you react when Kent makes a “gay joke” at the water cooler — especially if your first inclination is to laugh?

The only course of action is awareness. First, you must make yourself aware that, however small, any acceptance of intolerance is a step in the wrong direction.

Second, realize that in the interests of advancing understanding in our society, you have an obligation to voice your disapproval.

I said it before, and I’ll say it again: There is some level of intolerance in all of us. But that’s no reason to stop trying to improve.

Attempting to perfect the imperfectable is the only noble pursuit.

As we continue that pursuit, we must remember the devil is in the details.

A cruel joke and an act of violence are quite different, but in many ways they accomplish the same thing. Jokes, or any other “innocent” acts of intolerance, only serve to create an environment where acts of violence can and do occur.

Rather than focussing on punishing those who commit these acts, let us move to destroy the atmosphere that makes these acts acceptable.

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames.