A few days ago I went to La Bastille, a historical monument commemorating the French Revolution and (despite the undeniable brutality of chopped heads and such) the movement from a tyranical form of government to one that professed equality for all and the triumph of the lower class over the upper. Ok, so, I'm oversimplifying. The point is that I went there three days ago and found a North African suk, it appeared, which turned out to be a sleep-in (think sit-in but a week long with overnights) for just immigration reform. I talked to one of the guys and told him I was in solidarity with him and had been working on similar issues in the US. He told me to make sure to tell Mexicans (yes, all Mexicans) that they (North African immigrants of France) were in solidarity with them, that their struggles were one. I agreed to pass the message along (just as I agree to tell Obama X, Y, and Z when I'm asked to do so by Palestinian friends or Burundian friends) bought a ridiculously expensive pin to support the cause, and went on to do touristy things. The next day I came back for a rally my friend told me about. It was a rally aimed at condemning the Israeli action vis a vis the Flotila bringing aid to Gaza as well as a general call on Sarkozy, the Foreign Minister and Obama to stop supporting Israel's flagrant violation of human rights and international law. I expected a few hundred people, maybe a thousand, given that this was a thrown together rally. There must have been at least 100,000 people. I'm bad at estimating but i was trying to compare to what I saw at the immigration rally in March and it was incredible the support. There were the human rights advocates, immigrant groups, the workers unions, the communist party, the Islamic groups, the general public, it seemed everyone was there. A Jewish woman who ownes a bookstore that specializes in resistance writings (and who's store was ransacked and several books burned by radical Jewish groups in the past) was speaking passionately about the history of the conflict and the need for decisive action.
All of that movement and engagement was relatively hopeful, exciting even. That night I dreamed schitwzophrenically, as I sometimes do, visions of leading a succesful peace process, Hollywood-esque scenes of love, checklists of things to do, utter nonsense. I woke up in a boat on the Marne (this is normal, it's where I was staying with a friend) to the sound of torrential rain outside our round little windows. I had breakfast and then Caroline, the friend I'm staying with shared an email from our friend Hannah, currently working with Ecumenical Accompaniment program telling her about Emily, a 21 year old American who has been in Palestine for a while, learning about the situation, who recently got wounded at a protest. It seems like, from the witnesses and reports that EAPPI members are gathering that she was targeted by an IDF soldier with a tear gas gun. Targeted or not she got shot directly in the face, lost an eye, broke some facial bones and was disfigured. Hannah saw it as confirmation that internationals no longer are priviledged, or safe rather. I was just particularly sad when I saw her blog and saw how much art she does. Later, as I was thinking about it more, I was angry to think the only reason this would make US news was because she's American, and even then how much will it change in terms of our policy?
I don't want to be a debby downer. I want to tell hopeful stories, funny stories. I want to share the story my French grandfather recently told me about hosing down a comanding officer while part of the American fire brigade and getting fired for it. I want to write that I love Paris and I love the language, food, and people I'm surrounded by here. All of those things are true. It's also true that on Saturday I'm hopefully going to see friends I haven't seen in far too long, and walk streets that I have missed as if they were people themselves. So why focus on protests and wounds?
Maybe I'm sharing all of this because I'm not really helping anything right now and so talking about what I hear and see happening around me is the closest thing to advocacy I have at the moment. But also, I think, I need to express why when I will be doing something, it will be in a way that acknoweldges how intense this problem is. Because Emily is not the only person who has lost an eye or been disfigured. Rachel Corrie is not the only victim of a government who flaunts international law and occupies its neighbors. They are the pretty American girls who, tragically, have gotten equal treatement to their Palestinian brothers and sisters.
As I make my way towards the Middle East, the question I want to keep at the forefront of my thoughts is "What does love look like in this situation?" What does it mean to love Palestinians? Israelias?To love every member of Hammas? Of the IDF? What does it mean to love settlers? What does love require? I'm going to be thinking about that, but I have a hunch the answer will rarely be to do nothing, and it may not even look like the fuzzy affectionate version of love we associate with kisses and affirmation. We shall see. For now, prayers for Emily and her family, others like her that have suffered, and (if you have an extra moment) that my trip would go, if not smoothly, than at least successfully get me to where I'm going.
Peace and joy, friends.
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