There was a neighborhood person who I had to distance myself from because of their violent display of rage in front of my home at night when I was alone and they are a man. So I created a boundary, and stopped paying them for the yardwork they were doing for us. And I created a safe distance. Over a year has passed and they are still around because they help my neighbor out pretty regularly, but we don’t talk much, we keep that respectful New York nod of silence. But then we had a miscommunication of sorts and it got slightly weird again. And I made a decision one morning to say good morning to him by name. To create a kind of peace. And he said back so simply and quick it felt like had been said by him before to countless others, “You know, I still like you as my friend.” And I said “Same here.” I could not hold his eyes or my tears and found my way inside my home so I could burst and let the grief overcome me momentarily as it has so often this season.
This little attempt at peace making kind of undid me. But what hasn’t undone me? Because of this moment. Because of my nature? Because of all the moments? My ability to go back to questionable places and show a kindness, a kind of curiosity, has always been a particular strength and weakness of mine. A strength, because quite often I’m as wrong as humans can be about other people. Only seeing them through the lens of my own experiences, unable to accept what might be mine. So going back to people and sites of harm and destruction with an intention to repair has always been a place of spiritual growth for me. A weakness because there are some places of harm and destruction you should just not return to, because they do not deserve your time or energy. Knowing the difference is quite literally what saves us. Knowing the difference is a messy process. Trying to correct ourselves whenever we learn we are wrong is hard work, but apologies and acknowledgments of pain and harm literally heal whole lineages. They matter. We all have apologies we need to make. Apologies also don’t have to look any one type of way. Also we don’t end at apologies to right wrongs. We make sure people are good.
…
I wish I could exist in the soft places all the time.
I wish I did not have to see the things I have to see. Hear the things I have to hear.
The beauty saves me daily. Moments of awe. Those slow me. Make me reflect. Mostly make me silent. Because mostly there is not much to say in these moments but behold.
But I have always been this way when I see the ugly sides. The hate. The harm.
I am moved. To action. To say the words that just slip off my tongue or my fingers and roll into order on the page. On the other side.
Maybe it is because I have been too close to people who destroy, I know they are mostly weak, not all-powerful monsters. I understand the fragility of these empires we construct. In that way, I don’t engage in futile action. I act where I see there is possibility for impact.
I also act in a way that is wholly for those who need action, and completely disconnected from any impact. That is to say we speak for communities who need to hear us, not because we can always save them.
It is also because I exist in states of awe often enough that I speak out when things are grotesque to me. Most of the people passionately speaking out for Palestinians day after day are people I associate with beauty and awe. The rage, the grief, the sadness I feel in this moment is perhaps also worthy of awe. It assures me of myself. That I have not yet lost my way to the depths of cynicism and utter disconnection to life.
Anyway, it’s been long enough that I know this about myself. And long enough for me to stop punishing myself for being this way. I just speak when I can. I try my best. I am working everyday to not fall prey to the trappings of perfection. That I have to be perfect is the all too familiar fuckery of being an Asian femme person. And my overly wrought questioning after I do something, usually stems from this place. Am I good enough? I’m so fucking tired of asking that question for you.
Right now a lot of us are questioning. Speaking, maybe questioning. Not speaking, maybe questioning that as well. We are unclear as we move, because mostly we have never been exactly here before, but also we have been here so many times before that we are almost numb to it. Almost. Things are also urgent in that we are watching a lot of dying happen day after day on our phones, but also Meta is trying desperately to feed us skincare and holiday shopping and models and clothes and chicken pho recipes1. We post daily to reject this capitalist algorithm which dehumanizes us. We speak or don’t speak, post or don’t post, and wring our hands either way.
I’m wondering though if the wringing of the hands is the problem or is it the complete lack of any wringing? Those who are so completely sure of themselves, sometimes give me pause. Even if those people are saying things I agree with. That could just be me, I love to see an internal process unfurled in all it’s mess. That’s always made my heart beat a little bit faster.
It’s so fucking confusing right now. That’s all. And there is also an imperative to speak. Or do something, even if it’s not speaking. And we have to fill our cups and survive and grieve other things and care for our people and laugh and make dinner and exercise. But aren’t we so lucky we get to do any of that? What is a little awkward email in a world where right now people are walking in the rain holding children or getting bombed or pulling children out of rubble or just exhausted from having nowhere to run any longer? What is a questionable email in that context? What is a fucking instagram post in this world? What is saying ceasefire or I believe Palestinians deserve joy just like anyone else, when they are being starved and the majority of the fucking world is with you anyway so just say it? You not saying anything imperils those who do speak in this McCarthyesque nightmare. Drown them in humanity. Drown them over and over so they have literally no one person to target, fire, punish, doxx, write a NY Post article about.
Because we attempt to do something when there’s a genocide, multiple genocides. The something will hardly ever be the perfect thing, because there is no perfect action to end genocide. I repeat, there is no perfect action to end a genocide. The mere fact of its audacious inhumane cruelty perhaps calls for us to be audacious. Ridiculous. Incessant. Unyielding. An annoying pain in your ass. There are a million imperfect actions of various size and variety happening all the time everywhere that might stop this thing. Many of those actions will be imperfect. That’s ok. There are maybe many more days of hand-wringing that we need to prepare ourselves for.
Because this is about what we let them get away with. Which is to say it’s also about what you personally will let anyone get away with, when it comes to your life. It’s about what you will insist upon. Will you insist upon your own humanity which requires you insist upon humanity as a concept?
Every single time we try or attempt to do something on the right side of oppression and murder, it’s worth all the cringe you face after, and trust the only cringe you are facing is your own. You may not have anyone tell you that, but I will now. I will tell myself this now too.
Because I’m challenging how I talk to myself, and you might benefit from that too.
I may never know if I’m right all the time. I don’t even think I want to be right all the time, that seems kind of boring.
I will know that I attempted constantly. Likely fucked up along the way. And I think that’s actually good enough.
Notes:
If you are confused about any aspect of Free Palestine, this is not the Substack for you. I am not here to argue points, that can be found on various other writers’ pages. I’m here for those who already know, but perhaps are struggling in the knowing. This is for you.
On all the walls we construct and where we first make them. These borders have always been sites of violence.
Just came back for this edit to say I’m always here for the algorithm feeding me pho recipes.
I’ve been trying to find these kind of words, but feeling so empty. Grateful for this piece this morning.