It’s very easy to hate from a distance, but very difficult up close.

Sometimes you have to agree to disagree, and you agree to respect each other’s right to free speech.

My mission is to seek out those who hate and offer them a chance for dialogue and understanding.

The most important thing I learned is that when two enemies are talking, they're not fighting.

Hate is the byproduct of fear. If we can solve the root cause of that fear, we can change minds.

Meeting an Imperial wizard's robe face to face in my home was a stark reminder that the artifacts of hate can be transformed into milestones of understanding.

Conversations can disarm the most deeply entrenched beliefs. Holding a Klan robe handed over in trust proved to me the power of dialogue over division.

Being a Black musician who's befriended those lost in the shadows of white supremacy, I've learned that hate's melody can be rewritten with chords of compassion.

My collection of over 200 items of hate isn't a trophy case, but a testament to the possibility of change, one conversation at a time.

Daryl Davis in Concert Friday, July 12, 7pm, First Congregational Church of Princeton. $10 suggested donation. (Supported by MASS Cultural Council and the Barre Savings Charitable Foundation.) The Princeton Arts Society (PAS) is a nonprofit organization in central Massachusetts

Happy 4th of July. Let us work together to make this country better for all of us.

That first unexpected toast from a Klan member in a country bar turned into a lifelong mission to challenge hatred with the question: 'How can you hate me, when you don’t even know me?'

My journey wasn't charted through music alone but through the unexpected bridges built with those who once wished me harm.

From the streets of a Patriots’ Day Parade to the stages alongside music legends, my life's been a testament to finding harmony in discord.

The uniform of a Grand Dragon, once worn in hate, now rests as a relic of the past, a symbol of the bridges we can build from the bricks of our differences.

Each piece of Klan paraphernalia I've collected marks a step taken away from hate, towards a greater understanding - proving that even the deepest divides can be crossed.

My dialogue with those in the depths of hate isn't about converting but about confronting fears with the undeniable truth of our shared humanity.

Each robe in my collection is a story of transformation, a testament to the power of conversation over conflict.

My journey began with a simple act of sharing music, yet it opened doors to challenging the roots of hatred.

Discovering common ground in the universal language of music was the first step towards dismantling prejudices.