how has this changed you?
reflecting on pain as a catalyst for growth
Ten-plus months of witnessing genocide has forever changed me. After several months of organizing, action, and advocacy, I have spent the past month or so resting, taking time to heal from burnout, integrate my grief, and finally face the pain of this suffering and loss.
I look at the world around me and take stock of what has changed for me, what has changed for the cause of Palestinian liberation. I remember feeling galvanized and mobilized by the awakened masses when the genocide first began. Now, as the carnage carries on, as Palestinian bodies continue to be mutilated, burned alive, and tortured, I feel a loneliness as I notice so many accept defeat and to allow silence to take hold. I understand the self preservation at play here, to shield ourselves from the trauma of accepting the world as it is, but for many of us who are inextricably connected to Gaza, moving on is not an option.
It’s said that pain is a catalyst for growth. I hold onto that wisdom as I move through this transitional period, wondering what it means to continue to show up for Gaza.
I have been fortunate to connect with activists and advocates here in DC for whom the fight continues, for whom the fight goes beyond a sensational trend. I am meeting people who are putting in the slow and daunting work of building power, of forming coalitions, of understanding the power structures at play and thinking deeply on how we might counter them. These are everyday people without fancy degrees or years of experience in organizing – they are fueled by a resolve to rebuild the world as it should be, a world where all humans deserve to exist in safety, security, and dignity.
There is a big difference between accepting loss and accepting defeat. Palestine is suffering another nakba, an irrevocable catastrophe that will forever stain our collective history. At the same time, we are taking a leap forward towards liberation, towards making Palestine a cause that our politicians can no longer ignore.
The work is less flashy than the cathartic gratification of taking to the streets and posting on social media. The work continues by committing to the long haul task of chipping away at the boulder that is Zionism. The work lives in us – in how we align our lives, our choices, and relationships to integrity, truth, care, and love.
There is the type of healing we seek to numb ourselves from discomfort and pain, and then there is the healing we seek to propel us forward. I argue that the former is not healing but avoidance. For those of us who have paid attention to this genocide, we have repeated: There is no going back. I encourage you to reflect on that. What have you made peace with to maintain your sanity? Is it an acceptance that this is just how things are? Or an acceptance that we must learn to sustain loss as a means to keep fighting and keep moving forward? How do we grow in ways to allow us to hold loss and maintain courage all at once?
There is a future that includes the Palestinians of Gaza. There is a present that includes the Palestinians of Gaza. The work will always be centered around them, those whom humanity has failed. The work looks like making the world more safe for them, for those who have survived and are struggling to survive. It means supporting those who have been displaced to Egypt with housing and job opportunities, it means volunteering time to help with university applications. It means fundraising to help a family in Gaza continue to access basic goods and survive. It means getting involved with local organizing to sustain Gaza in our public consciousness, to move America in a direction where we use our wealth for communal care and not needless, senseless war.
The work goes on. The work starts with ourselves, with committing to our own growth and knowing that we heal to be better to ourselves and the people around us. There is a difference between resting and going back to sleep. So, ten months into genocide, ask yourself: What about your life looks different than it did ten months ago? Ask yourself: How has this changed you?
I leave you with words from Audre Lorde that I was reminded of recently. I hope it is as re-awakening for you as it has been for me.
Once you start to speak, people will yell at you. They will interrupt you, put you down and suggest it’s personal. And the world won’t end.
And the speaking will get easier and easier. And you will find you have fallen in love with your own vision, which you may never have realized you had. And you will lose some friends and lovers, and realize you don’t miss them. And new ones will find you and cherish you. And you will still flirt and paint your nails, dress up and party, because, as I think Emma Goldman said, “If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution.”And at last you’ll know with surpassing certainty that only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. And that is not speaking.
That numbing…it’s what I fear most. The last ten months have been an intensive learning curve of accepting pain but not defeat, as you do beautifully put it. Understanding that pain passes, new pain comes, it gets processed and changed to spaciousness, as long as it’s held and heard. The pain can be having people you once liked or respected turn on you. That’s something that non-Palestinians like me are learning perhaps for the first time, and it’s a nasty experience but incredibly freeing too. Which is why the Palestinian cause is so universal: by committing to support their liberation, we learn what actual freedom means. It’s not what we thought.
You aren’t alone. The voices grow hoarse but the revolt against Zionism and everything it stands for continues. Sending prayers and imaginings of freedom.
Loved what you wrote. Thank you.
The questions to ask are:
1) How committed are you to speaking and being there for the oppressed people; the Palestinians, the Sudanese, the Congolese, and many others?
2) If the 10 months of absolute brutality funded by your and my tax dollars has not changed you, the first ask where and when the humanity was lost and then worry about your soul.
With each passing day of sheer depraved carnage that the empire carries on, the deeper the red line is dug deeper the stronger is the resolve that the status quo is UNACCEPTABLE. The world can be a much better place and we who have known the red line all along and now see it in the shredded human bodies in clear plastic bags handed to the families to go bury, REJECT all c0lonial projects which are rooted in dehumanization. The empire knows it is falling and the crazies have now gone utterly mad, dancing to elect yet again the lesser evil among the devils. When Rome fell, they were too were electing horses and psychopaths as their senators. The difference is that this will be the first empire to fall in human history which has the potential to annihilate every thing with it as it goes down.
So be it. If that is how it will end, then TOO shall Palestine be freed from the strangle hold of the devil's hatred for humanity.
Humanity and truth are immortal. Humanity which is nothing else but love and compassion, Humanity was, is and will always be the excellence in all of Nature's creation. And truth, which fights falsehood in Palestine, will sprout one way or another. This is no compromise on humanity and truth.
Humanity and truth which shine bright in all that is Palestine and her beautiful people; the martyrs, the ordinary men, women, children who refuse to kneel and bow to evil are chosen to elevate humanity and truth to the rightful sacred place. So hang in there. The road is long and hard, and yet it is only path that the soul chooses for its salvation.
With much love and dua for all the oppressed people of the world and all the fighters in every corner of the Earth. They humble me, motivate me, and give me the reason to be and to belong. I love them all!