Your guilt is good, but stop going on about it

#1

A placard photographed at a London demonstration that reads أمن (amn) - meaning safety, peace, tranquillity in Arabic

A sentiment I’ve seen floating around a lot recently is that of guilt. Guilt for the privilege of safety, security, stability, and shelter. We can go about our everyday lives, our mundane routines, while Gaza is obliterated.

This is a message to myself first and foremost because a week ago, I found myself compelled to write about the same but, having seen so many think-pieces on it, I realised my error. For us, in our privileged positions, to make our guilt the focal point is performative at best, disingenuous at worst.

It isn’t about me or you. It’s not about our feelings: our dismay, our numbness, or our sadness. It’s not about our guilt. I could talk about how everything I do feels insignificant unless I can see I’m making a tangible difference. I could talk about the dissociation that’s been persistent for the entirety of October, how life doesn’t feel real. But it’s not about me.

It’s about the dad forced to collect the body parts of his sons in plastic bags. It’s about the mass graves filled with bodies denied of their final ghusl* because their water supply has been (illegally) cut off. It’s about the children writing their names on their hands so that they can be identified in the worst instance. It’s about the babies pulled from the rubble, shellshocked before they know the meaning of the word. It’s about the little girl who didn’t get the chance to eat her croissant. It’s about the dozens of families whose entire lines have been wiped out. It’s about the doctors performing surgeries with phone flashlights because they’re deprived of electricity. It’s about the collusion of our governments and media in this atrocity – how frustrating it is to live in a country where the powers that be stand for everything you stand against.

Your guilt is good. It would be concerning if that wasn’t one of your driving emotions right now – neutrality and apathy at a time like this are symptoms of a severely twisted individual, a hill I’ll die on. All your emotions (unless they’re within the realm of impartiality and indifference) are valid. I understand that the constant barrage of gruesome images and stories can be overwhelming, but imagine living it, imagine it being your daily reality. Needing a break is understandable - advisable even, if it gets too much, compassion fatigue is a real and serious issue. But you can take a step back without announcing it to the world. You can do so without proclaiming ‘I need to protect my peace,’ which is perhaps the most tone-deaf statement one can make.

Your ability to recognise your privilege is good, but stop going on about it. Use that guilt as your motivation, but stop wallowing in it.

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*The Islamic ritual washing of a corpse to physically cleanse the deceased before burial.