It’s a Saturday evening. You’re enjoying time with your children, your parents, your grandparents, your friends.
Someone breaks into your house. Rapes your mom, kills your siblings, murders your grandparents, tortures your dad, kidnaps your children and leaves you bloody and broken.
Now you’re in endless agony. You have no idea where your children are, who they are with, and what is happening to them.
Minutes go by…
Hours…
Days…
Your cell phone rings. You pick it up and it has your daughter’s name on the face. Your heart skips several beats. You can’t believe it. Maybe they escaped somehow. You answer the phone only to hear grown men on the other end speaking in Arabic, mocking and laughing at you. Then they hang up. You try calling back, but they don’t answer. You still have no idea if your son is dead or alive. A part of you wishes they were dead after seeing the same man who took them rape your mother in front of you and shoot her in the head while doing it. You figure, if they’re dead, you can at least try and begin the grieving process. You want the men on the other end to pick up the phone again just to FaceTime and show you a dead body at this point.
More days go by…
Weeks…
Two months…
Your ten month-old baby who was taken, if he’s still alive, had his first birthday in captivity without his parents or any family in sight.
You found out your friend was gang-raped so much, she was bleeding out the back of her sweatpants.
You also found out a number of your other friends and cousins have been taken and/or murdered as well.
You’re overwhelmed. You’re screaming, sobbing, convulsing.
All of this happened only for you to find out there was a rally in New York of people celebrating what happened to you.
All of this happened only for someone you thought was your friend to say to you “…I mean, what do you expect? Your country is terrible.”
All of this happened only for the world to ridicule you for any… any measures you take to get what’s left of your family back.
Imagine all of this happening to you, and you can’t mourn.
No, you have no time to even process your grief because you’re too busy defending your existence to people who have absolutely zero connection or care for you and your family.
All of the scenarios I listed are real accounts.
My friends can’t mourn. And they can’t mourn because some of you are so busy expressing your love for other lives over theirs.
My friends in the diaspora can’t mourn because they have to look over their shoulder whenever they go out in public.
My friends can’t mourn because too many of you lack common sense and can’t see that Israel didn’t start, nor are they perpetuating the war. Too many of you are spending so much time, effort, and energy telling them to stand still and be slaughtered by their enemies.
My friends can’t mourn.
You don’t know what that is like.
But keep it up.
You will.
Thank you! 💙 your words mean so much.