(this is a transcription of an audio essay from November 2023 — you may read it below or click here to enjoy it in its intended format)
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It’s been over a month of a full-scale war going on that’s resulted in mass destruction and merciless killing… and there’s a narrative being painted about it here, where I am, in the west, approximately 6000 miles away from the area in conflict. I think careful attention needs to be paid to the language used around it.
So much has been said and is being said… countless thinkpieces, interviews, images, analyses, graphs, ratios… and a growing sentiment that you’ve got to say something too. Well… let’s see.
Initially, the first draft of this piece had all sorts of statistics and “facts” but then I realized its futility. It’s not evident to me that any of that has done enough to alter the biased views globally, or where I am more specifically. And as it usually goes, it didn’t take long before much of that content is now part of the entertainment category, for contents’ sake. There’s even a name for it… “infotainment.”
So I scrapped what I had and decided to tell a story instead; I’m not purporting to have a solution, I’m merely sharing a perspective… because it is pretty much the only thing I can confidently speak on…. because I live it every day… because it’s my story… and because you’ve got to say something, remember?
See, I’m a child of war myself… and I would like for you to take this walk with me through a brief timeline here. I was born in 1994 in Baghdad, Iraq. I was 9 years old when the 2003 Iraq war started. Three years later, my family and I fled our home to Syria, then Jordan, before immigrating to the US in 2008. I was 14 years old then. In 2013, my family and I were officially sworn in as US citizens. A couple of months ago this year marked the 15th anniversary for us in the States, meaning that I’ve spent roughly the same amount of time in the Middle East as I’ve spent here.
Despite wrestling with the sense of belonging as far back as I remember, I’ve proudly called America home, because as an immigrant you quickly learn that, ultimately, home is where you make a living and, probably most importantly, where your loved ones are safe. In all honesty, America did open its arms for us as a small family of four and we did not take it for granted one bit. We still don’t. And thanks to my upbringing, I realized the value of what the Land of Opportunity offers early on. So, over the last 15 years, I’ve been blessed to get an education here, build a career for myself in multiple fields, and best of all make some amazing life-long friends along the way, many of whom made me feel accepted for who I am. Although I have some doubts about that now.
As someone who has lived in the Middle East as well as North America, I feel like I’ve fortunately gained the best of both worlds really. Culturally, so much good in my life has come from integrating the two rather than assimilating to one. Understanding western values at a visceral level is what in fact helps me hold space for and appreciate the values I gained from living overseas… (broadly speaking, the two sets of values are not antithetical but that’s a separate discussion).
Since arriving here in 2008, I deliberately avoided consuming news or paying attention to much of what goes on in where I come from regionally because I simply had to in order to move on. Recently, though, I’ve been compelled to reexamine that.
The current conflict has conjured up feelings in me that I hadn’t dealt with in a long time and opened up wounds I thought had healed by now… I mean, I genuinely tried to avoid looking at the graphic photos and videos. But they’re almost hard to miss at this point. And I wasn’t doing that out of naiveté or self-protection or a lack of care but more so to remain focused on ways to best serve the ones in need and advance their cause instead of doom-scrolling through their pain. Because, again, I have a first-hand account of war myself… my home in Baghdad was across the street from the main entrance to the sole-functioning hospital at one point during the war. So, the piles of bodies wrapped in sheets on the streets that you see through Tiktoks and Instagram reels, I saw those in real-life when I was 9.
Those thoughts and vivid memories have been unsettling to live with lately… the feeling is analogous to survivor’s guilt. From the few glimpses I caught of the human savagery, I saw myself in all of the ones being dismissed as “collateral damage.” Because that easily could have been my fate too, except that I lucked out, I suppose. So, given this immoral killing of innocent civilians, when I tell you that I see myself in them, why are they being viewed as less than? When I say I have some doubts about those whom I felt accepted by, I would like to know who is it and what is it that they actually accepted?
In a perfect world, under manageable circumstances, one could possibly argue that the few lives spared can end up as refugees or immigrants somewhere… and as a productive, voting, hardworking, tax-paying member of society, I’m willing to bet they’d make for just as good, if not better citizens. Yet, I still don’t wish my life for them because I pray that they wouldn’t have to flee their homes in the first place. That’s one possible outcome, sadly with a low-probability given the unfortunate reality we find ourselves in.
Before discussing another possible outcome, I want you to meet Yusuf, a 9-year-old boy with a deep passion for arts and music. His father owns a bakery, his mom runs a small bookshop, and his brother — six years his senior — has a dream of becoming a biomedical engineer. One day, Yusuf happens to be riding his bike near the bakery when a regular patron of his dad’s waves him over. Yusuf happily obliges… gets off the bike to give the man a proper greeting and a firm handshake. The man asks Yusuf about his interests in music; Yusuf tells him that he’s getting into guitar because of this one viral video on YouTube, which he then shows him on his phone. The man, overjoyed at the point the video ends, hands the phone back to Yusuf and asks him to “stay right there.” He leaves the bakery to go to his car, pops open the trunk to grab a mini-guitar in a gigbag, and goes back inside the bakery. The man hands over the guitar to Yusuf and asks him to “keep it safe by making music with it.” Yusuf is now elated… he hugs the man, wears the guitar gigbag like a backpack, and off he pedals back to his house. There is no shortage of discipline in him so he got right to work, splitting his time between doing homework and practicing.
A couple of months pass, he’s getting home from school one day only to find his family packing up to leave their home because of an evacuation notice sent to his neighborhood — I forgot to mention that they’re in Gaza and there’s a war going on there. His mother had already packed the guitar for him so he wears it on his back and offers to lift a couple of heavy bags of belongings with his free hands. As he marches with his family and neighbors out of the area, uncertain of what lies ahead, he recalls the man’s request to keep the guitar safe and finds comfort in the thought that maybe making music with it is what will actually keep him safe.
I see myself in Yusuf… another child of war, an innocent soul. I know that because it’s my story too. You may draw parallels to certain events from your life and find yourself in it. And even if you don’t, you’re probably just as eager as I am to listen to the music that will come out of whatever he’s experiencing.
And that’s the point of this piece here… to bring it a little closer, to humanize the headlines, so we’re not desensitized to actual cruelty. To me, the jury is still out on the effectiveness of any such campaigns as the “you’ve got to say something” ones because the resulting discussions have revolved around moot points that muddy the waters. We’ve reduced deaths to tolls, a genocide to picking sides, and a matter of humanity to a question of proportionality. And that’s what seems to be getting all the clicks and buzz. It’s juvenile. And divisive, by design, if we but knew it.
I have no intention of convincing you of anything — I believe in free will. Wisdom says: a man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still. Wisdom also says: the best thing about the truth is that it does not require your belief in it. Then John Mayer came along and said: “Belief is a beautiful armor, but makes for the heaviest sword. Like punching under water, you never can hit who you’re trying for.”
The thing about all of this… is we know exactly what’s coming. I mean, I just got done watching Martin Scorsese’s latest movie, Killers of the Flower Moon, which details the 1920s murders of the Osage Indians in Oklahoma. A masterpiece of a movie… but I assure you that I don’t need its equivalent about the currently-ongoing war in X amount of years.
There is no reason to operate out of hindsight when the atrocity is being committed in plain sight.
As a civil society, I thought we’re past having to rationalize that point; it’s unclear to me how violence would eradicate any future form of itself. I thought the Age of Reason and Enlightenment values outlined a vision for a relatively harmonious coexistence for all. I thought we’d find a way to avert a bloodshed by now.
I realize this is an oversimplification of a much greater geopolitical issue… I’m aware that I may be romanticizing the outcomes of intellectual knowledge, but it does make you ask what the point of that knowledge actually is if not to bring up and stress-test at a time like this?
The baseline is a condemnation of the loss of all innocent lives. And of whatever value it may be to have on social media, I wholeheartedly stand with and add my voice to those calling for an immediate ceasefire. That’s the absolute bare minimum to do.
Enough with the senseless murdering and bombing. The best time to stop was then, the second-best time is now.
If you’ve made it this far and are still reading… I want to say thank you.
And right about now, I also want you to know that we’ll probably never hear the music. Because Yusuf has died in the timespan we spent here.
That’s the other, much more likely outcome if things don’t change.
