Iran: The straw that broke my back.
Jun. 22nd, 2009 01:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
logansrogueYou may recall a short post yesterday where I said I was taking a break from the twittering of Iran's crisis. I'll continue to be careful about what I see, because my panic, depression and PTSD is easily triggered by violent imagery.
I saw a clear and close photograph of a young woman, clearly dead as there was no life in her eye. I say eye because the other one was a mess of blood. I can only assume she was shot in the head. She was young, and pretty, and utterly destroyed.
It breaks my heart to see such things. I was with my Mum when I accidentally saw the detailed photograph. Mum made an exclamation to God, something very Catholic. I just tried not to vomit or cry. I wasn't feeling nauseous because it disgusted me. It's a human body, when you compromise its structure, you get blood and squishy bits.
I was sick because of the injustice of it. How wrong it was. How very intensely grieved I was to see it. It didn't matter that I didn't know her personally. I knew her in the way that she was a fellow young woman, fighting for her freedoms. I knew her in the way that she no doubt loved her friends and family as I love mine. It was looking in a mirror and seeing what my fate would be if I wasn't so lucky to be born in Australia. It was seeing the faces of my friends and my sisters in that dead woman's appearance.
As if that wasn't enough, I read about helicopters pouring boiling liquid down on protesters, and then ambulances luring the injured only to have guys with guns in the back, shooting those seeking help. That sort of sociopathic, sadistic bullshit just bruises my heart so deeply. I have the capacity to be naive, to be an idealist. I know I except so much from humanity. It's natural that I'd be disappointed sometimes. But this... oh, Dear Lord above us all, this sort of thing. I just can't wrap my brain around it. I hope I never do. I hope I never understand that level of cruelty. I hope I am this naive and childlike in my love of life and happiness for the rest of my existence.
When I went to bed last night, I hugged my Mum and Dad goodnight. I felt so damned lucky to be able to go to bed with that warm glow of having my family around me again, complete and whole. To know I could hug my sweet, wonderful mother. To hear my Father's stories of his travels of the past three months. To sit down to dinner with them and my brother and enjoy a good talk together. To know I can do all these things and I don't have to fear for my life, for their lives.
Somehow, it feels criminal. Why am I so lucky? Why can't these poor Iranian people be as lucky as I am? And it occurs to me that they fight so that they, and future generations, can have what I have here and now. I know how sweet it is to be secure and to have your family and friends relatively safe and sound, to know you can speak your mind without retribution or censorship. I know too well why they fight.
I mourn those poor people that have been the victims of this oppression. Over 200, all told, and rising as the protests go on. I mourn that they will never get to enjoy the change that they fought for, that they gave their lives for. I'm angry they had to sacrifice so much at all.
I won't forget their lesson. I won't forget them, and I won't take my freedom for granted ever again. I was thankful before, but I know why I'm thankful now.
I saw a clear and close photograph of a young woman, clearly dead as there was no life in her eye. I say eye because the other one was a mess of blood. I can only assume she was shot in the head. She was young, and pretty, and utterly destroyed.
It breaks my heart to see such things. I was with my Mum when I accidentally saw the detailed photograph. Mum made an exclamation to God, something very Catholic. I just tried not to vomit or cry. I wasn't feeling nauseous because it disgusted me. It's a human body, when you compromise its structure, you get blood and squishy bits.
I was sick because of the injustice of it. How wrong it was. How very intensely grieved I was to see it. It didn't matter that I didn't know her personally. I knew her in the way that she was a fellow young woman, fighting for her freedoms. I knew her in the way that she no doubt loved her friends and family as I love mine. It was looking in a mirror and seeing what my fate would be if I wasn't so lucky to be born in Australia. It was seeing the faces of my friends and my sisters in that dead woman's appearance.
As if that wasn't enough, I read about helicopters pouring boiling liquid down on protesters, and then ambulances luring the injured only to have guys with guns in the back, shooting those seeking help. That sort of sociopathic, sadistic bullshit just bruises my heart so deeply. I have the capacity to be naive, to be an idealist. I know I except so much from humanity. It's natural that I'd be disappointed sometimes. But this... oh, Dear Lord above us all, this sort of thing. I just can't wrap my brain around it. I hope I never do. I hope I never understand that level of cruelty. I hope I am this naive and childlike in my love of life and happiness for the rest of my existence.
When I went to bed last night, I hugged my Mum and Dad goodnight. I felt so damned lucky to be able to go to bed with that warm glow of having my family around me again, complete and whole. To know I could hug my sweet, wonderful mother. To hear my Father's stories of his travels of the past three months. To sit down to dinner with them and my brother and enjoy a good talk together. To know I can do all these things and I don't have to fear for my life, for their lives.
Somehow, it feels criminal. Why am I so lucky? Why can't these poor Iranian people be as lucky as I am? And it occurs to me that they fight so that they, and future generations, can have what I have here and now. I know how sweet it is to be secure and to have your family and friends relatively safe and sound, to know you can speak your mind without retribution or censorship. I know too well why they fight.
I mourn those poor people that have been the victims of this oppression. Over 200, all told, and rising as the protests go on. I mourn that they will never get to enjoy the change that they fought for, that they gave their lives for. I'm angry they had to sacrifice so much at all.
I won't forget their lesson. I won't forget them, and I won't take my freedom for granted ever again. I was thankful before, but I know why I'm thankful now.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-21 08:59 pm (UTC)*hugs* This post? So much love for it. Seriously.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 02:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 01:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 03:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 06:54 am (UTC)Start at about the 3:10 mark.