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And everything you feared comes to you in this undoing world
The other post, the political one.
On the day dedicated internationally to the liberation of Auschwitz and the remembrance of the murdered dead of the Holocaust, the man who holds the highest office of my country closed its doors not only to refugees in danger of their lives, but to immigrants whose lives are here, lawful permanent residents and visitors, for no less bigoted reason than their countries of origin, their religion.
In his obligatory official statement on the Holocaust, he could not bring himself to say the word "Jews." Perhaps he thinks no one now will say the word "Muslims." (Who remembers the Armenians?) We will say only "refugees." We will pretend the vetting process had nothing to do with religion, or color, or caricatures of terrorists. We will tell ourselves it has to do with securing the safety of our children. We will tell them a story of desperate times and desperate measures, not opportunism, hatred, and nationalist fear.
I am not the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. My Jewish roots were here in this country a generation before the cousins of my grandfather's side died in Auschwitz and Chełmno. I can't invoke their ghosts; I never knew them. That loss and that haunting are not mine to claim.
This is mine: you let the stranger in. Especially if they are Muslim, right now. Especially if you are not. In the names of everyone who was ever turned away, you hold the door open. Or you forget the word, you cannot say it, because you have no more right to speak of light and darkness, good and evil, terror and tolerance and love: you chose the wrong side.
And though I do not believe in a God of accounts and ledgers, if you do, I hope you dream of Him, burning the page on which is written your name.
On the day dedicated internationally to the liberation of Auschwitz and the remembrance of the murdered dead of the Holocaust, the man who holds the highest office of my country closed its doors not only to refugees in danger of their lives, but to immigrants whose lives are here, lawful permanent residents and visitors, for no less bigoted reason than their countries of origin, their religion.
In his obligatory official statement on the Holocaust, he could not bring himself to say the word "Jews." Perhaps he thinks no one now will say the word "Muslims." (Who remembers the Armenians?) We will say only "refugees." We will pretend the vetting process had nothing to do with religion, or color, or caricatures of terrorists. We will tell ourselves it has to do with securing the safety of our children. We will tell them a story of desperate times and desperate measures, not opportunism, hatred, and nationalist fear.
I am not the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. My Jewish roots were here in this country a generation before the cousins of my grandfather's side died in Auschwitz and Chełmno. I can't invoke their ghosts; I never knew them. That loss and that haunting are not mine to claim.
This is mine: you let the stranger in. Especially if they are Muslim, right now. Especially if you are not. In the names of everyone who was ever turned away, you hold the door open. Or you forget the word, you cannot say it, because you have no more right to speak of light and darkness, good and evil, terror and tolerance and love: you chose the wrong side.
And though I do not believe in a God of accounts and ledgers, if you do, I hope you dream of Him, burning the page on which is written your name.
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That is beautiful.
Yeah I saw that just now when I clicked on the NYT link for John Hurt's obituary. I didn't even read the article, the slug lines just kept getting worse, like little telegrams of despair. "Bans ALL refugees. Especially from Syria. AND expedites 'Christian refugees from Muslim countries.'" What the ever-loving fuck.
They weren't fleeing anything, they just wanted the New World, but my mother's father and her mother's parents all emigrated from Hungary in their twenties, so every time this shit is just....jarring. (Which is so privileged, I know for a lot of other people right now it's actively threatening, terrifying.) "It kinda feels personal."
(AND FOR SHIT'S SAKE, HE'S THE SON OF AN IMMIGRANT! IT'S SERIOUSLY LIKE 1984. 2 + 2 = 5. ALL THAT SHIT OBAMA GOT FOR HIS DAD BEING FROM KENYA. BUT SCOTLAND IS A-OKAY! I WONDER WHY THAT IS! CHRIST ON A CRACKER.)
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https://twitter.com/Stl_Manifest
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I am not on Twitter, but I have been following that nonetheless. People are making the connection off-internet, too.
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I am angry and terrified, because I fear for my own country and for those refugees.
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May we live in better times.
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Btw, if you're not busy tomorrow, march & speakout against deportations: https://www.facebook.com/events/1206614352751292/
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Thank you. All our plans for tomorrow are up in the air depending on whether Autolycus is still throwing up by tomorrow morning (in which case we will need to emergency-call the vet), but I've told
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...burning the page...
Yes. Thank you. Well put.
All the best to Autolycus! And good health to your mop....
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And though I do not believe in a God of accounts and ledgers, if you do, I hope you dream of Him, burning the page on which is written your name."
This is shouting to become a poem.
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I think it already is.
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Amen.
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