Some Thoughts

I am not OK. I have been struggling for weeks now. This feeling is different and one that I haven’t felt for years. The last time I felt this way was when I was in conflict-torn Bukavu, visiting Panzi Hospital in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I haven’t talked about my time there in detail. Mostly, it’s because it hurts, still to this day, and I feel the complete hopelessness that I feel right now. I had just visited the pediatric ward for sexual violence survivors. Yes, you read that correctly. I had met two and three-year old girls who had been brutally raped, their tiny organs ripped apart by the depravity of grown men. There was so much in that visit, but what struck me the most was that despite the evil, hatred and cruelty, these girls found it within themselves to smile. To still believe that their lives would get better. And so amidst this backdrop, knowing all that these criminals had taken from them, they chose hope.

These last few weeks feel similarly because of these feelings of despair and hopelessness. When I was in the DRC, it sometimes felt like I was in an alternate reality. Is what I am seeing and experiencing really happening? Because if it was, how are we all not feeling like this? How can this be happening and people are carrying on their daily lives? How can we know that this is happening, watch these awful videos of children being maimed, orphaned, and killed, and turn away? How can we allow this suffering, born primarily by women and children, to continue? And all not feel the pain to our very core?

In all of these awful conflicts, I am always bewildered that we can’t see the humanity in others. Why can’t we understand that a Palestinian mother or father grieving the loss of their baby or child is the same as the Jewish mother or father grieving the loss of theirs? Human suffering is universal. It knows no bounds. And yet we are told that one narrative is more compelling, worthy of action and the other is not. I will choose to not get political here because this isn’t about that anymore. We left politics at the station weeks ago. This is about our collective humanity. This is about the universal truths that bind us together. If we can’t see this now, after so much evidence and data, I fear for our future and for our society. I fear that “Never Again” was a hollow promise.

We do what we can for our children. So I will continue to show up for mine. But these last few weeks have been almost unbearable. To bear witness to the abject pain and suffering is the absolute least I can do, in my cushy, warm, home and my full, hydrated body. If my feelings, prayers and energy that I put out in the world can help in some minute way, I will take it because to do otherwise, would be soul-crushing. I will bear witness so that when my children are older, I can at least say that I felt. I cried. And I suffered a tiny fraction. I can look myself in the mirror today and tomorrow knowing that while my heart is broken, I still have one that beats to the drum of humanity. I can muster the courage to smile to that, with the hope that this fake smile will one day again be real. Just like the little girls in the Congo.