War reminds me of war.
Ukraine, babies, and hope
I don’t plan to react to every current event. I take my time to listen to those more knowledgeable than me. I process my thoughts and emotions to get to a place of understanding, and I have no business responding before I’ve done all of that. The internet is so loud and polarized, and I just don’t care to contribute to that. When I think I can add light, love, truth, or beauty, I may respond, like to what I see happening in Ukraine and the world around me.
I don't need to have seen war with my own eyes to be grieved. I don't need to have experienced war to understand that the world can be dark. Artists, journalists, and storytellers can walk us in their shoes if we’re willing. They’ve taught us of atrocities in and around us if we’ll only listen. They’ll move us to compassion if we believe them, since they’re the ones who’ve gone places we haven’t had to go.
To protect the newborns of Eastern Ukraine, nurses and staff set up a neonatal ICU in the basement of a hospital last week during the Russian invasion. The image reminded me of the babies born in "For Sama", a harrowing documentary directed and filmed by Waad Al-Kateab, a pregnant Syrian woman, during the siege on Aleppo. The film is the story of her family living in the hospital basement as her husband worked on the civilian resistance front lines as a doctor to victims of missile strikes and chemical gassing.
As Russia’s aggression grows, Ukrainian civilians try their best to flee while many others stay to defend their country. I watch in horror at the bravery and willingness to stay and help their countrymen protect their homeland as they absorb the devastating shock of an illegal invasion of their sovereign nation, just like Waad’s family did in Syria. I can’t help but draw parallels of the impact on innocent people when I see how war is but a sport for the powerful.
Babies are born as the Aleppo is pounded into rubble by Assad forces and Russian jets. Babies are born as Eastern Ukraine is shelled by Russian artillery under Putin’s command.
Though I’m bewildered by the double standard of praise and coverage for Eastern Europeans resisting oppression and violent occupation not offered to Middle Easterners doing the same (that’s another post entirely), I’m glad Ukrainians are still standing.
I’m moved by the questions Waad asks while she's pregnant during a war. Should she even want to have this baby? Would she be able to raise a child who would impact humanity for the better? Even the reality of war isn't enough of a reason for her to abstain from having a child. Bringing a child into the world means there’s still hope, doesn’t it?
Babies on their way this very moment have no idea. For now they remain unbothered by airstrikes, greed, nationalism, and military operations creating refugees as I type.
Why does war have to remind us of war?
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My best friend was in labor this weekend.
Instead of closely following morsels of news out of Ukraine, Texas, Florida, and Aurora, I spent nearly two days at her house. I fed soup to her daughter who calls me "Aunt Shelby". I woke her up from a nap and changed her diaper. I read her five books and pretended to be a bridge and then a tunnel for her pretend car on the couch.
To be a bridge in times like these.
We comforted one another through pain when we accidentally banged heads. We giggled and cuddled as I kept her occupied while her mama labored in the bedroom. It was simply a day of standing witness to love and life when the world feels like too much.
I don't know about fixing everything in our messy, messed up world right now but I am certain it's not about making myself feel better or dismissing another's pain. How can I look someone in the face to say, I see you're in labor, but I'm just going to watch and not help. And how can I admit, I see you're fighting for your freedom, but I'm going to don a profile pic with your flag’s colors on it and ignore how tied to each other we all actually are. And what if I said, I'm going to keep not owning my complicity, hubris, imperialism, biases, and fears that make war possible in the first place. Thoughts and prayers!
Creating safety, peace, security, dignity, equity, a place to labor and be a breathing human: that's what it means to love our neighbors as ourselves. That’s meeting tangible needs and fighting for justice. It's not self-serving or others-dismissing, as pity and sympathy typically are. It's moving our hearts, minds, dollars, time, and bodies to make the change we'd like to see. It's actionable compassion and resistance in the face of a third world war Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy is actively trying to prevent for not only his beloved country and her allies, but for his own children. It’s standing with our neighbors not because international defense agreements say so, but because siding with victims is always the right thing to do.
Because at the end of the day, people in bomb shelters or on trains fleeing to literally anywhere else don't give a shit about good news that isn't "War is over. Your family is safe. You can go home now."
People in Ukraine, people in Syria, young people who are transgender in Texas or young people who are gay in Florida, and new, tiny people delivered into this world need hope. I need hope. We need hope.
In the womb we are safe and innocent, unmarred by the violence that surrounds us. Out here there is war.
War guts humanity.
War cultivates trauma.
War preys on the vulnerable.
War is a catalyst for creating refugees.
War is therapy to men who refuse to deal with the wars within themselves.
War begets violence begets violence begets violence.
War and empire destroys us.
I do mean us.
Us.
This war on the heels of a global pandemic is too big, but small love matters to us too.
Share a meal. Lend an ear. Dismantle oppression that wages wars. Witness another's pain and resilience. Turn toward people. Prioritize them over politics.
Whisper I am horrified at what I'm seeing, but I swear I won't look away because it won't kill me, but it just might save the life of another.
I've been showing up to change diapers and be a bridge and it feels like not enough in the cosmic scheme of things right now but it has got to be.
It all matters.
P.S. I think art carries us too. I'm listening to & reading:
Padraig O'Tuama's Sorry For Your Troubles
Remi Kanazi's Before the Next Bomb Drops