What day is this? What place is this?
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I write today with a heavy heart, just a few days after the tragedy in Connecticut. I've been avoiding the television, because I'm all too familiar with how the sensationalist media will play things out. And I'm not in the mood to stare at photos of the person responsible, or to watch the news exploit the surviving people who are still processing everything they've witnessed. I think about the children all over the world - from China to Gaza, whose deaths are not afforded the same attention. I think about the children killed in drone attacks each day, and also about numerous other shootings in the U.S. this year that weren't "massive" enough to stay within the headlines: a shooting at a supermarket here in Jersey, another that took the life of an acquaintance's brother.
I haven't done my 'part' yet by writing an obligatory Facebook status, but I think about the words of a friend, "I need to start with my own two hands before I give my two cents." I shed some tears and yet remain motionless. I could write a letter to my Senator about gun control and mental health, I could sign a Change.org petition. But we need to do more with our own two hands. We need to stretch our minds and demand more of ourselves by asking deeper questions. I already struggle day in and day out to convince people that regardless of one's immigration status, medical or criminal history, or one's old age, that we're all human beings. But I beat myself up because I could be doing more too.
If we can't agree on anything else
can we agree, just
not the babies...
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