on not staying silent during genocide
“Run like hell my dear. From anyone likely to put a sharp knife into the sacred, tender vision of your beautiful heart.”
-Hafiz.
If all I have is my voice, then I have to use it. I have decided to turn off the comments in this post because I’m simply giving my perspective for my own inner relief. If you want to share your reaction to my words, you can message or text me. I’m not closed off to respectful conversations. It’s honestly all we have, and what I’ve found most helpful in the past few days.
What I have witnessed in the course of this week has altered my perception of the world. What’s happening to the people in Gaza is yet another historic event I've had to witness in my life — and one that feels life-changing. It may be so because I now have access to so much information right on my phone. Yet even with that luxury, I’ve managed to be an irresponsible human being.
In college, I learned about the situation Palestinians have been facing for years from a media professor who dared to show their struggle even though we lived in a racist, small town in Pennsylvania. But I didn't keep up with the news. As a young aspiring journalist in America, I quickly became disillusioned with media once I had the chance to enter the space. After practicing vapid entertainment journalism, I quit and decided to just stand far away from journalism altogether. I became a jaded coward putting my own interests, comfort, and needs ahead of those of others and the service of journalism. Because to be honest, journalism here feels loaded.
I grew up in Venezuela with a journalist mother who used to receive death threats for speaking out for underserved communities. She handled them with grace. She was fearless. I always wanted to be like her, but I never felt that fearless here because I'm an immigrant. I know speaking up is risky even when I’m just a civilian expressing her opinions. I know this post will probably scare some loved ones even though I am a Venezuelan-American citizen with the right to freedom of speech. And I know that I may trigger some followers who are not used to seeing me be so vocal about something. That’s because I usually just try to act in peaceful ways and let my actions show who I am and what I believe. But my heart is breaking at the horrors we’re witnessing. My heart is recoiling now that the words ‘flatten,’ ‘open-air prison,’ ‘collective punishment,’ and ‘genocide’ are part of my everyday English vocabulary.
But I can't stay silent despite the consequences it may bring ‘me.’ Whatever consequences (if any, because I’m a rather private person with a tiny following) are nothing in comparison to what people under siege are attempting to survive. I’m propelled to write and speak because of how quickly everything has escalated to this nightmarish, almost hopeless point. A point where the people of Gaza are being forced to face conditions that are impossible to survive. And there are many journalists out there trying to show us what’s going on, even if it costs them their life. So the least I can do is to look at what they have to say.
I feel helpless. That’s why I’m sharing the inner journey I’ve gone through over the past few days. One that took me from sending condolences and a donation to a Jewish friend, to feeling guilty for it, to also donating to Gaza relief, to learning more about years of unjust oppression, to sitting with my heartbroken friends as they try to go about life here while they witness the eradication of their people through posts on the internet.
Surreal as this all may be, I have decided that I’m not going to turn away from these uncomfortable feelings, images, and conversations and stay isolated in my little world that has water, food, and shelter. This week, thanks to my courageous friends reposting reports that go beyond the norm, I have decided to look and to learn — and I have. I have learned to sit uncomfortably with my own ignorance so I can learn from Palestinians and Jewish voices for peace. Because if these two emotionally exhausted groups are still attempting to educate us, the least I can do is listen and share their pain. Sure, there are many issues to be worried about right now, as a Venezuelan who has family dealing with a dictatorship and a humanitarian crisis of our own, I know this very well. But at this moment, what’s happening in Gaza is of utmost importance.
The situation is so dire and dark, that I find it necessary for my own peace of mind to publicly state that I stand for non-violence and non-discrimination of any kind. And in that spirit, I can’t stand for senseless war and genocide today, or ever. Being antiwar shouldn’t be a controversial opinion yet historically, it has been. And although I’m no longer officially a journalist, I am, by nature, a writer. It matters to me to write this down and for it to be public and clear to myself, and anyone who knows me. This is how I make sense of the world. Right now the world makes no sense at all. It makes no sense for anyone to get away with this and for governments across the world to support it.
Violence has never made sense to me. As a child, I was always crying and being told how ‘sensitive’ I was. Now I know that’s not a problem, and in fact, we need to keep that part of us alive. A thing that has solidified my natural antiviolence views has been studying Soto Zen Buddhism with my monk friend Issan and our sangha. Through this practice, I’ve learned that life is suffering. But even though life is suffering, life is also very precious. So, we should commit ourselves, in whatever way we can, to make it less painful for ourselves and others. One strange way of doing that is sitting with the pain of others, bearing witness to pain and struggle, and not turning away from the world. Looking at images of war and devastation is hard, but we must look now so that when this is retold, we remember the horror and the reality of this moment. We must remember and not repeat it, although it seems like we never learn, we must try.
I also post this here because I want to remember myself as someone who is publicly against genocide. I want to continue to say that any dogma, ideology, or belief that is for the annihilation of human life is not something I want to get behind or let take hold of me.
Thank you for reading and for making space.
