“What is the source of our first suffering? It lies in the fact that we hesitated to speak. It was born in the moment when we accumulated silent things within us.” – Gaton Bachelard
I know that what is happening can make you/us/one/me feel stuck and helpless. For me, it’s helpful to name what underlies those feelings: Fear.
When I name what I’m feeling as fear, I’m better able to realize that maybe I am not stuck and helpless, or stupid, or whatever other conclusions about myself I’m accepting as truth. I try to think, “Ok, I’m afraid. What can I do to change that, for myself and others?” I try not to let this particular fear stop me in my tracks. I try to move forward. It’s basically What Would Amy Schumer Not Do? or WWASND? for short.
I look for things to do that are generational, that will grow, and be sustainable. I look for things that are grounded in solidarity, community, and genuine connection. I listen and read, and try not to scan or skim. I look at actions and organizations that want to claim my attention and I try to understand their theory of change. What exactly is supposed to happen if I do this? And what will happen after that? Do make a call, hang up the phone and go back to my life? Is there something deeper, more connective, more in solidarity, that I can commit to?
In addition to naming my fear, I know I have to address how I am complicit. Genocide is not just happening overseas, although its most horrific acts occur there. The death, horror, and destruction can be directly traced back to me.
Genocide is a part of our lives. We pay for it. We pay for it instead of paying for clean water in Flint. We pay for it with the lives of Black people murdered by IDF-trained police. We pay for it when we allow one genocide to beget another.
When I acknowledge that genocide is in the room, and I acknowledge my fear, I can see the work ahead of us, and I can see how much we need each other in this fight. I really think gathering to talk about this is important. Reading groups and discussions have to be part of our practice and community-forming. Even if we get a ceasefire in this one of many ongoing genocides, the work will continue.
Nothing I’m saying is a wild new insight. I’m writing this as a white middle class (ish) American woman, so take that into account. I can’t speak to everyone, but if any of this spoke to you, I hope it’s been helpful.
I shared a few links below. I don’t cosign every sentiment expressed in the places I linked to, but they all enriched my understanding.
This discussion of the radical Black feminist commitment to free Palestine with Clarissa Brooks, Angela Y. Davis, Breya Johnson, Briona Simone Jones, and Jaimee A. Swift, was sobering, inspiring, and instructive.
The organizers also made a great reading list.
I’m working my way through these Palestinian films. Would people be interested in a group watch? We can do it on Discord or something.
Here’s a whole drive of art for protests.
A bunch of these links came from Makeda Easter’s invaluable the art rebellion newsletter, and there’s many more you can see if you go read it, and hopefully subscribe!
And here’s some Shamstep from 47 Soul to listen to as we feel our way forward.
I’m moving next week, and dealing with some big health stuff, but will soon be settled, or at least more settled. Take care.
Mikki