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projectqueer · 7 years

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STATEMENT OF SOLIDARITY WITH Dyke March Chicago

by Stephanie Skora, Trans Liberation Collective founder Before I say anything else, it is most important to note that the Israeli State began bombing Gaza again last night. Gaza has been limited to only two hours of electricity a day for the past several days, no doubt in a preemptive move to silence news about the bombing. Instead of circling up around Palestinian communities and helping support them during yet another brutal attack on their land and families, many people were calling them antisemites and perpetuating Zionist violence against Palestinians by allowing unfounded and unsupported accusations of antisemitism to gain traction. This is a source of no small amount of disappointment and anger on my part. We, as Jews who claim to be in solidarity with Palestine, must do better.

Let me make myself VERY clear: I am a proud Jewish woman. I am a genderqueer trans woman, a lesbian, and an anti-Zionist. I am nobody’s token, and I find antisemitism in all forms abhorrent. I am in explicit solidarity with the Chicago Dyke March Collective, and support all of their actions, and decisions during the March and at the park afterwards in regards to their removal of three Zionists from the space. I participated in the conversations with, and removal of, those Zionists, and would do the same again if asked. The people in question were kicked out because they were Zionists, were aggressive, and made Palestinian attendees feel unsafe. That is, and will always be, a valid reason to remove someone from a space.

In the interest of centering Palestinian voices in recounting the actual events of that day, I will refer everyone who asks to the forthcoming statement from the Dyke March organizers. The Chicago Dyke March Collective organizers can speak for themselves, and I would encourage everyone to listen to their words, rather than making assumptions based on sources that lack credibility. I will, however, make a statement about the backlash from, and aftermath of, the removal of those Zionists. Many of you have asked my perspective on the events of that day, so please consider this my official statement on the matter.

Dyke March is, very specifically, a space organized by queer and trans people of color, FOR queer and trans people of color, so that they have somewhere safe to go and celebrate themselves during Pride Month. Yes, everyone is welcome at Dyke March as long as they follow the rules of the space and don’t cause any problems, but Dyke March is not designed to be a space for everyone and their assorted feelings about oppressed people.

This year, Dyke March was very, VERY visibly anti-Zionist, and pro-Palestinian. This means a variety of wonderful and necessary things, but it also means that, for attendees, that there are prerequisites to our attendance there. By attending, we are recognizing that we are entering a space that was specifically designed to center and uplift queer and trans Palestinian voices… if that is not something that you can comply with, the solution is simple: don’t go to Dyke March. If, like Ellie Otra, Palestinians make you feel uncomfortable and you “just want to be Jewish in public” but feel the need to assert your presence and privilege even after you’ve been told that Palestinians feel uncomfortable, then don’t come to Dyke March, and go do it somewhere else. If, like Laurel Grauer, you are a known liar, Zionist, racist, and Islamophobe, then don’t come to Dyke March, and go march with A Wider Bridge and/or the Israeli Consulate in Chicago Pride, who I’m sure would be more than happy to have your despicable-ass self in their contingent.

Just to make myself clear: if you are a Zionist, if Palestinians make you feel uncomfortable, or if you work for a horrible, violent, pinkwashing organization, go fuck yourself, and go fuck yourself somewhere other than Dyke March. Just because a space allows you to attend does not mean that the space is FOR you, and to assume that you have a right to come and make people feel unsafe in their own spaces just because you want to be visible in public is the HEIGHT of privilege, White fragility, Jewish feelings, and general fuckery.

It is also important to say something about the role of Jews in explicitly anti-Zionist spaces. Namely, it is never the place of Jews to tell Palestinians how, where, why, and at what they are allowed to feel uncomfortable, unsafe, or traumatized, and in which contexts. Palestinians always have the right to determine the terms of their own safety in their own spaces. Always. It is neither the place, nor the right, of Jews to get all up in our feelings about the reactions of Palestinians to symbols that have been heavily appropriated by the Israeli State and Zionist settlers for the express purpose of eliciting reactions of fear and trauma. Whatever your feelings about the Star of David as a symbol, the reality of the situation is that the violent use of that symbol by the Israeli State has made it inextricably associated with that state, and the violence that it commits. That is OUR problem as Jews, and our feelings about that symbol are to be hashed out amongst ourselves, in Jewish spaces, and not taken out in the form of baseless and violent accusations against Palestinians.

It is absolutely true that the Israeli State has appropriated Jewishness for its own purposes, and perverted the culture and history of a beautiful, proud, and strong people to serve the theocratic, ethno-nationalist interests of a genocidal nation-state. It is absolutely true that Zionism is a form of racism and White Supremacy, mediated through a Jewish context. It is absolutely true that Zionism is an unacceptable political ideology that has no right to be heard, or considered as valid, in any space, but particularly those that center Palestinians. It is absolutely true that Zionism is an ideology that maintains its supremacy through the re-traumatizing of each successive generation of Jews, in attempt to force us into allegiance with the Israeli State. It is absolutely true that Zionism reinforces its power by forcing Jews to exhibit White fragility in response to criticism of Jews, because in the context of Zionism, Jews assume a position of power and privilege that we have not historically occupied.

So, what is the role of Jewish people in anti-Zionist spaces, especially ones organized by Palestinians? I would argue that our role is twofold: 1) To support the labor, organizing, and work of Palestinians as they continue their struggle for liberation from the Israeli State and Zionist ideology, including by educating other Jews about Palestine and Zionism. 2) To link the struggles against antisemitism and anti-Zionism, and to help ensure that one struggle is not weaponized to silence the other.

Why does this look so limited? Because we, as Jews, enter into these spaces (or at least SHOULD be entering into these spaces) as accomplices to the liberatory struggle of the Palestinian people. Zionism is a system of power and control places Jews in a position of privilege vis a vis Palestinians.

This means that when Jews enter an anti-Zionist space, we accept that we are entering it under certain conditions. As beneficiaries of the system of power and control that those spaces were set up to combat and dismantle, we may be held to a higher political standard. We may be required to affirm certain political positions in order to remain in the space. We may be asked certain questions about our politics because of our positions of privilege. And all of those things might feel bad, might hurt our feelings, and might seem really unfair to us… but it is our job to remember, and to remind each other, that our discomfort and hurt feelings at being held to a higher standard is nothing, NOTHING, compared to the genocide, violence, and ethnic cleansing that we are in those spaces to help put to an end. That is our role as accomplices, and privileged people in that space. Other privileged groups of people are treated the same way in social justice spaces, and that is the norm in our corner of society. It is also important to note that if you are arguing that a space that excludes Zionists automatically also excludes Jews in general, then it is YOU who is conflating Zionism and Judaism, not Dyke March.

I would also like to add this, specifically addressing the Jewish people that will see this statement, and in particular those of us who call ourselves anti-Zionist, or Palestine solidarity activists. It is incumbent upon us, in particular, to not participate in this mishegas, and to not heap violence upon Palestinians. It is incumbent upon us to not let our possible previous Zionist brainwashing and existing Jewish fragility and feelings to allow us to grab on the first specious accusations of antisemitism levied against Palestinians by a source that completely lacks credibility. A Wider Bridge, is a known racist, Islamophobic, homophobic, and transphobic organization coming down against Dyke March, which is run entirely by queer and trans people of color, some of whom are Palestinians. Laurel Grauer, a known liar, racist, and Islamophobe, works for A Wider Bridge, and is not credible in any meaningful way on this issue.

It is our job to listen to Palestinians. To not pass judgement on them without hearing their voices. To believe them when they refute or reject accusations made against them. To lift up their voices when they speak their own truths, and give their account of events. It is our job to not give further traction to unfounded or under-supported accusations of antisemitism made against Palestinians, especially when we KNOW that accusations antisemitism have been historically weaponized against Palestinians, and used to silence their voices on vital matters, including affirming their own humanity and safety.

If you, personally, cannot do these things, then I ask you to consider why you cannot believe Palestinians, why you are giving credibility to accusations of antisemitism without knowing all the details, and why you have a right to be considered a Palestine solidarity activist.

That’s all I have to say on the matter for now. I am in explicit solidarity with Chicago Dyke March, and all the organizers in the Chicago Dyke March Collective.

#chicago dyke march #lgbtq #palestine #israel #zionism #xenophobia #racism #colonialism #imperialism #bigotry #oppression #lgbtq issues #lgbtq visibility #chicago #illinois #human rights #activism

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lesbeet · 7 years

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Hi Sefa, I was just wondering if you had any resources about why Zionism is such a popular viewpoint in the west, or if you could point me in the right direction. Sorry if this is coming off like "it's your duty to teach me" but your post has just really shown me I don't know nearly enough about the subject

hope you don’t mind me posting this! some disclaimers: i am not, nor do i claim to be, an expert on this by ANY means. i don’t really have specific resources for you but i’ll try to give an explanation based on my own views. i’m mostly going to be speaking from personal experience as someone who grew up as (and still is) a mostly mainstream american jew. i would offer links and sources but it’s hard to find unbiased ones so rather than give links to sites i can’t guarantee the objectivity of, i’ll give my knowledge and then encourage you to go explore more info on your own if you so choose. this is gonna be long, so buckle in.

so first of all, zionism, from what i know, was originally a movement to unite jews worldwide into a singular group and to eventually gain self-determination. early zionists always had their eye on palestine, but were also looking at several other countries in which to establish a sovereign jewish state, like uganda. since the establishment of the state of israel in 1948, the goal of zionism is essentially to support and justify the reason for israel’s existence, and to purport that jews deserve to live safely in a nation of our own. it’s essentially a form of jewish nationalism.

prior to the holocaust there was nowhere near as much widespread jewish support for zionism. global antisemitism is an enormous reason why so many jews are zionists, which, while not justified or acceptable, is an understandable path of logic. additionally, and perhaps due to that, jews in the west (and possibly elsewhere, but i can’t speak on that) are often basically brainwashed into idealizing israel as the be-all end-all of judaism, the eventual endgame we should all strive toward.

there’s a lot of anti-arab and anti-palestinian propaganda, a lot of historical revisionism, and it’s fed to kids at such a young age and then reinforced through many jewish institutions throughout our lives. i definitely considered myself a zionist at one point in the not-so-recent past, though i also considered myself pro-palestine (which obviously doesn’t work). it’s a dastardly combination of real antisemitism and embellished logic fed to corruptible people who really don’t have the knowledge to believe anything else.

i grew up at a conservative synagogue and a reform summer camp, and they both fairly equally contributed to this brainwashing. american jews pray facing east, we say prayers for the state of israel. young kids slip tiny notes and prayers into paper and cardboard models of the western wall. we learn about israeli culture and at camp several times a summer we had israel day. when i was a sophomore we had army day at one point in the summer, and our counselors (who were all israeli in that particular unit) pretended to be our army commanders for the day. we had educational programs about israel. it’s a lot of reinforced bias and brainwashing so that by the time you’re old enough to think critically, your mind is already made up and it doesn’t even occur to you that you’re misunderstanding SO many things.

we’re taught to essentially keep israel in our back pockets as an option in case antisemitism in our home countries gets to be too dangerous. we’re supposed to believe that israel really is the center of judaism and that diasporic jews are just waiting to come home. it’s insidious. and naturally i learned a bunch of false or revised versions of history that led me to believe, of course israel should exist and has always done the right thing, everyone just hates israel because everyone hates the jews and we’re not safe anywhere else.

so essentially there are two kinds of zionists that you’ll come into contact with in the west: those who are fully aware of the objective facts and still support the ideology, who use twisted versions of that information to brainwash others into agreeing with them, and those who have been brainwashed. you’ll meet much more of the latter group than the former, especially if they’re just mainstream western jews who have never really taken the time to learn about israel for themselves beyond what they were taught by mainstream jewish institutions - and that rarely happens.

it’s the perfect system. they point out the very real antisemitism that exists in the world and they say, “look! look at how dangerous it is to be jewish in this world! this is why we need a place of our own, where we can be safe and we can be jewish in peace!” which isn’t inherently a nasty idea on its own, but jewish safety CANNOT come at the expense of others. and having an established state comes at the expense of displacing and enacting violence and oppression against the palestinian people.

jewish antizionists aren’t self-hating internalized antisemites, we just don’t believe our own well-being should come at the expense of the well-being of other people.

what i really believe is that rather than taking an attitude of “if you’re a western jewish zionist literally don’t ever come in contact with me and also you should die” i think we should be reaching out to these people and having these discussions, explain the realities of the evils and crimes against humanity israel is committing against the people of palestine, and explain that it is VERY possible to have a strong jewish identity while condemning atrocities committed against others. in fact, zionism as it exists really can’t be reconciled with judaism at all.

that kind of reaching out would have helped me learn the truth much sooner, and i think that’s the way we need to approach this. maybe this wouldn’t be an effective strategy in every situation, but i truly believe is that a lot of mainstream american jewish “zionists” wouldn’t really support zionism if they knew the truth - that’s what happened with me and a number of other american antizionist jews that i know. so rather than pushing them away and declaring them to be lost causes, we should be educating them and gaining their sympathies for our cause, because after all the entire purpose is to stop the nationalist ideology and to stop the oppression of palestinians, not to yell at zionists for social justice brownie points and then do nothing material.

as far as non-jewish zionists, israel is a major u.s. ally and also some sects of christianity believe that jesus won’t return until the jews have control of israel. so that’s why a lot of (mostly conservative) goyim in the u.s. consider themselves zionists.

i hope that made sense? again i’m not a historian or an expert or anything of the sort, this is just a brief (lol) explanation of how i personally have come to interpret the situation

#zionism #antizionism #long post /#the-dangers-of-ingesting-mercury #answered

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itsfinancethings · 4 years

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New story in Politics from Time: Angela Davis In Conversation With Yara Shahidi: ‘We’re Doing Today What Should Have Started 150 Years Ago’

Actor and activist Yara Shahidi was born in 2000, three decades after Angela Davis began wielding her platform as a UCLA professor for radical activism. But their generational gap hasn’t stopped them from becoming friends or uniting in their efforts to dismantle white supremacy. The pair reconvened on Zoom to discuss the global nature of their struggle and the value of voting, regardless of ideology.

Yara Shahidi: Dr. Davis, I know it’s been almost a year since our last meeting, and so much has come to light in that time. Many people are talking about how unprecedented what we’re going through is, when, in reality, there have been generations of precedent set. What is the importance of opening the conversation to involve many generations?

Angela Davis: It seems like this is the moment we’ve been struggling to reach for many decades. It’s an extraordinary moment—and when conjunctures like this happen, they happen almost serendipitously. But if we have been doing the organizing work over the decades, then we can seize the moment.

But at the same time, I think we’re formulating questions and addressing issues in ways that ought to have happened in the immediate aftermath of slavery. We’re doing today what should have been started 150 years ago. Of course, beginning to eliminate or even minimize the impacts of racism on structures and institutions in our society is going to require a great deal of labor: intellectual labor, activist labor.

The focus has largely been on Black people. I’m glad about this. But we should also acknowledge how essential it is to understand racism against indigenous people, and what you might call the unholy alliance of colonialism and slavery-produced, racist state violence. So that when we examine all the complex ways in which anti-Black racism expresses itself in this country, we also should look at anti-indigenous and anti-Latinx state violence.

YS: It makes me think back to that event at the Underground Museum [when they first met], and how impactful it was for me as a high schooler to have a globalist perspective in regard to connecting our struggles here to our communities globally. Right now is another moment in which we’re witnessing a world visibly in crisis after generations of colonialism and imperialism. I was wondering, when facing what seems like many a problem, how we go about fighting for them all? Is there a perspective we can help cultivate that allows us to simultaneously dismantle systems of white supremacy that have happened globally?

AD: From the time I was very young, from the earliest period of my activism, I became convinced that our work has to be global. This insight came to me when I was in Paris for the first time. I was in college, and I went to France in search of a place without racism: I thought I would find ‘Liberté, égalité, fraternité.’ Instead, what I found was the Algerian revolution. I joined demonstrations against the French government in support of their liberation.

In this country, It’s difficult to persuade people to think about what is happening in Brazil, or Africa, or the Middle East, because such a U.S.-centric focus has been encouraged. But I think this crisis of COVID-19 and the fact that almost all of our public interactions are happening virtually allows us to understand how easy it is to be connected to what is going on in other places. I think we can learn a great deal from listening to people who are involved in other struggles.

YS: I go back to the words of James Baldwin, when he talked about how one of the greatest sins of white supremacy was taking away our global language and our ability to communicate with one another, making it harder to actively disassemble these common evils and racisms. I think what you’ve said about being virtual is also something my generation is trying to utilize to the best of its ability. It feels like I and some of my peers have received great benefit from being in direct connection with one another on social media, regardless of where we are. At the same time, social media also has the tendency to allow us to disappear things as trends pop up and then fade. Something I’m trying to figure out is how we maintain consistent touchpoints and sustain conversations.

AD: Social media is very important. Unlike you, my formative years were not spent with these new technologies. My experience as an organizer involves knocking on people’s doors. I’ll never forget when H. Rap Brown was in jail, we raised $100,000 for his bail by going door to door in Los Angeles, largely in South Central, asking people to donate coins! That sounds prehistoric at this point.

But it’s still important to try to encourage that kind of contact. I know how important it was back in 2014, when Ferguson happened, for people involved in the BLM movement to visit Palestine: To witness with their own eyes what was happening in occupied Palestine, after the Palestinians were the first to express solidarity with them.

I think It’s so important to utilize the technology—to use it as opposed to allowing the technology using us. As a friend of mine pointed out many years ago, how many likes you have is not necessarily an indication of the organizing work you’ve done.

YS: I can look at every photo I’ve posted and see how many people have shared it. It then creates a hierarchy of what we think makes an impact rather than what actually does. One question I had tangentially: Being a part of the social media world is often how one develops a political opinion. Do you have guidance for young people developing an opinion now, on how to develop a non-reactionary politic?

AD: As a person involved in education for the vast majority of my life, it’s so important to not to confuse information with knowledge. In this day and age, we all walk around with these cell phones that give us access to a vast amount of information. But that does not mean as a result that we are educated. Education relies precisely on learning the capacity to formulate questions—what we call critical thinking. Learning how to raise questions not only about the most complicated issues, but about the seemingly simplest issues, so important.

This is one of the reasons I find the trans movement so important. When one learns how to question the validity of the binary notion of gender, one is questioning that which has persistently been the most normal context of people’s lives. The work of ideology happens in those seemingly normal spaces.

This is also why the police-abolition campaign has been so important. Prisons and the police state are assumed to have been with us forever. So we begin to ask questions about how we address issues of harm without replicating the violence: how we create safety by not resorting to the same tools of violence that are responsible for us being unsafe.

YS: I love the wording of “questioning the most simple.” This summer, I was going through an African philosophy canon, and what it highlighted for me is these Euro-centric or U.S.-centric norms that have been established. For readers who are submersed in Western media, are there other texts we should be turning to subvert these norms?

AD: I’m reading this book now that’s on my desk: Françoise Vergès’ A Decolonial Feminism. Speaking of which, I know you’re passionate about feminism. I’m interested in how that passion is expressed in the social-justice work you’ve been doing over the last period.

YS: At first, my interest came from, “How do I interrogate my own identity?” I realized for so long that the primary prism through which I viewed most things was through being a brown and Black person in the world. It’s been an ongoing process of being more honest in my experience and the ways my identities layer on top of each other. What does it look like to structure a movement strong enough to hold many of our truths in one, while still actively dismantling the lack of equity that is often tied to presenting as a woman?

How has the hetero-normative tradition influenced the rest of our trajectory? While I do voting work, what does that mean to know that the solutions presented to us on the ballot aren’t perfect? How do I engage with voting while engaging with this larger movement of equity in these spaces?

AD: So, how do you?

YS: The conclusion I’ve come to is that it is by no means the only means of civic engagement. It is actively necessary to engage throughout the year in whatever way -possible—and the months of continued protests have helped nuance this conversation. There can no longer be this binary of whether to vote or not is the difference between having an equitable society and not.

AD: Or to assume there has to be a perfect candidate in order for us to participate in the electoral process. I was severely criticized when I suggested during the last election that we all needed to vote, even though the candidate was not the one we wanted. It was a difference between a candidate that would allow our movements to flourish, which would also include being extremely critical of that candidate once she was elected to office—or be faced with the alternative we have experienced. I’m someone who historically has not been excited at all about the electoral arena. I was excited only to the extent I knew how important achieving the right to vote was, because I myself wasn’t able to register in my home state of Alabama when I first attempted to. I always tended to vote for the other parties: The Communitist Party, the Peace and Freedom Party.

Now, and I hope I haven’t gotten less radical in my framework, but I think that we vote for our own capacity to continue to do the work that will bring about change. Individuals don’t change history or create transformative moments. Every major change in this country has been a consequence of a kind of collective imagination. So we have to ask, Will this candidate enable that kind of arena or shut it down? In a sense, when we vote, we’re either voting for ourselves or against ourselves.

YS: I love the term imagination. One of the strategies of white supremacy is to take away the potential of the Black imaginary. We’re in a moment right now of world building—in which it’s time to build a world not based on precedent, or even in reaction to the systems that have been set up, but truly independent, based on these values of equity.

So I view this election as an opportunity to reclaim our space for imagination. We know the people we vote for will not be perfect, but we will dedicate our time to actively critiquing and moving forward. We know at the very least, that overt white supremacy won’t be sanctioned. Not to say it won’t be allowed. There just may be more space for us.

Moderated by Andrew R. Chow

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infinitegrowthpage · 6 years

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17 years after 9/11 and I am still surprised

I have been writing a post about 9/11 every year. Maybe because 9/11 comes right around the Jewish High Holidays, I treat my archive of posts a little like a prayer book. I read my favorite – the first one – because it’s still incredible to me that I was at the World Trade Center when it fell.

I read some of the ones from the years right after that. The blog posts about the trauma of that day are also the posts that remind me of the most intimate times with my Ex.

We were both changed people after that day. My Ex started a career in social justice. He risked his own safety to protest false imprisonment. We took in a young kid of a Palestinian activist who was on the run. I stopped being a reliable breadwinner and started writing career advice from my kitchen counter because I was too traumatized to go back to an office and have a career.

And we had kids.

That moment when I could not breathe. I am not clear, even today how long it was. It was long enough for me to have so many thoughts. First I thought to myself, I should have shut my mouth sooner. You have so much less time to live if your mouth is coated with rubble. Then I thought, I am not going to help the person who is touching my hand. I can barely help myself. Then I thought I am going to die. It’s okay. I’m okay to die. Then I thought, wait, I should die trying to live. I should just move or do something, anything, to find a place with air.

So then I started moving. In pitch dark. With no idea at any given moment what I was touching or standing on. And in all this, still, so many thoughts, an unbelievable number of thoughts, I also had my most vivid, memorable thoughts: That I am so disappointed I would not get to see my life unfold. I was so excited to start a family with my husband. I wanted to see what would happen.

Now I know: the gift of life is to get to be part of it. That’s all. It’s a joy to see what happens. The best story in the world.

But my story is not anything like I expected. I know this is true for everyone. But it’s still true. I am just so surprised. And — I feel guilty to say this — I am disappointed.

I am so grateful to have lived. Even 17 years later, I cry now. Remembering the feeling when I decided it was okay to die. I would be okay. That’s just how it is. You get that feeling. I know. I had it.

I got to live. But I thought I would live a perfect little life. I didn’t realize it. I just guess I just assumed. I mean, I think everyone thinks that’s what they are missing when they die. I didn’t die, so I know what happens.

We take family pictures. For the boys. Because even though their dad only lives with us one week out of every five, the boys deserve to feel like a family.

I look at that picture and I think of 9/11. This family is what has emerged from 9/11. And it’s broken. And I’m sad. And I’m sad that I don’t feel more gratitude. I always imagined telling the boys about 9/11. I saved so many things. I saved books full of high-resolution photos. I saved the wastebasket I carried with me for miles and miles. I saved letters school children wrote to me after they read my story.

It’s good that my shirt and my shoes from that day are somewhere safe at the Smithsonian. Because this year I threw all the other stuff out. We are in a very small apartment in Swarthmore. And the move away from the farm was very difficult. We kept only what we wanted most of all. And what I want most of all is the family.

I wanted it most the day I thought I would die as well. So in that respect, not much has changed. I don’t want to talk to the boys about the details of 9/11. And to be honest, I don’t think they care. The remind me of me, when I was a kid, walking out of the room when someone started talking about Vietnam. Not because it was sad, but because it was annoying; grownups back then never could shut up about Vietnam.

My sons sense that 9/11 is an undertone to every memory, every photo tucked safely into the pages of an album. But my sons don’t need to look at pictures of the World Trade Center to remember it. We were a family during those early, raw years right after 9/11 and they ask all the time about what that was like.

Trauma is genetic. I have read that before. Now I understand how it happens. This is not how I imagined my life would unfold, but I still feel so lucky to be here for it.

17 years after 9/11 and I am still surprised published first on https://dataentrytestpro.tumblr.com/

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diariesofahajji · 6 years

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The 6 days of Hajj

Day 1 - Yaumul Tarwiyah

Most of us set off from Aziziyah to Mina on foot. Genius over here decided to stop to tie her shoe laces with her heavy backpack on. When I stood up a very audible and tangible snap was felt in my ankle. I bit my lip to hide the tears and soldiered on chanting that God was sufficient for me, and the best disposer of my affairs, and furiously begging “save this ankle” the entire time, because the ankle is a particularly important part of the body required for pilgrimage. By the time I got to my tent and checked it to assess the damage, the ankle was completely healed, which astonished me because I know how much pain I was in not much earlier. It was like I was the opposite of Achilles, because every other part of my body, besides my ankle, was in intense pain. Worth noting that maybe very specific supplications aren't always the best idea.

On the first day of Hajj there are no prescribed forms of ibaadah, so the day is spent in contemplation of the days to come (Yaumul Arafat and eid) and also contemplating the requests you have for God and the misdeeds you seek forgiveness for. It was also a day for engaging with your fellow pilgrims and discussing your experiences up to now. I happened to meet some fellow cat lovers, which was great because nothing draws me out of myself more than talking about Pippin. I'm not a mother, and haven't left human babies behind, but i do miss my kitty. He's my friend, who purrs my troubles away. Anyway, in the evening a storm hit Makkah and shook our humble tents in Mina rather violently. As I mentioned before, our Sheikh recited Ar Rahmaan in the middle of the storm and urged us to be more in awe of God's power than afraid. There was no point being afraid, because no matter what we did to hold the tent together, if God wanted to level it with all of us in it, He could've. Was God flexing a proverbial muscle to remind us of His Majesty? Was God sweeping our sins to Arafat a day ahead of us? Maybe the winds simply swept through to purify us for our departure to the holy centre of this planet, where Adam and Eve met after being cast out of Paradise, and where the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ delivered his last sermon, Arafat.

Day 2 - Yaumul Arafat

The typical story: Busses are delayed, poor communication results in people standing in exposed sunlight for extended periods of time. We were mostly dehydrated before we got to Arafat. An old lady saw me crouched on the floor and offered me her toasted almonds and apple juice. Her kindness revived me more than her food. Due to the temperature teetering close to 50 degrees Celsius when wuqoof started, we confined ourselves to the hot and overcrowded tent. It was hard to form a spiritual connection in these conditions. I remember crying back in Joburg when I put together my duaa book. I felt a spiritual connection then. I remember sitting in the Raudah in Madina and feeling the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ gazing at me with love and acknowledgement. I remember looking at the Kaba and feeling that there were no barriers between God and me. However in Arafat, all I could see when I looked up was a dusty tent wall. Reading through my prayer book felt like I was reading a shopping list. So I mustered up as much sincerity as I could and remembered that just physically being in this holy place helped, I remembered that the fact that I was a guest of God personally called to complete my Hajj helped, I remembered that as long as I am here (no matter what state I am in) my prayers will be answered. I've heard that with every tread of the camel that brings you to pilgrimage, a sin is wiped away. I've come from the other end on the world oh Lord, to bear witness to the favours You have bestowed upon me my whole life, and to ask that You continue to provide for me for my remaining days. Please forgive me fatigue. See that I come to you now in humbleness, clinging to my waning attention span, trying to remain awake throughout wuqoof so that i may praise you the best way I know how. Please Allah, even if my humble little duaa book did little justice, please search my heart, Oh All Seeing, All Knowing, The Omnipotent, find my deepest desires and grant those which You believe are best for me.

Once wuqoof ended we began our 14km trek to Muzdalifa to spend the night sleeping on the ground under the stars (which were completely hidden due to light pollution). As we passed Jab Al Rahmah I read the Nabi ﷺ ‘s last sermon out loud for my mother:

O People, lend me an attentive ear, for I know not whether after this year, I shall ever be amongst you again. Therefore, listen to what I am saying to you very carefully and take these words to those who could not be present here today.

O People, just as you regard this month, this day, this city as Sacred, so regard the life and property of every Muslim as a sacred trust. Return the goods entrusted to you to their rightful owners. Hurt no one so that no one may hurt you. Remember that you will indeed meet your Lord, and that He will indeed reckon your deeds. God has forbidden you to take usury (interest), therefore all interest obligation shall henceforth be waived. Your capital, however, is yours to keep. You will neither inflict nor suffer any inequity.

Beware of Satan, for the safety of your religion. He has lost all hope that he will ever be able to lead you astray in big things, so beware of following him in small things.

O People, it is true that you have certain rights with regard to your women, but they also have rights over you. Remember that you have taken them as your wives only under a trust from God and with His permission. If they abide by your right then to them belongs the right to be fed and clothed in kindness. Do treat your women well and be kind to them for they are your partners and committed helpers. And it is your right that they do not make friends with any one of whom you do not approve, as well as never to be unchaste.

O People, listen to me in earnest, worship God, perform your five daily prayers, fast during the month of Ramadan, and offer Zakat. Perform Hajj if you have the means.

All mankind is from Adam and Eve. An Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab, nor does a non-Arab have any superiority over an Arab; a white has no superiority over a black, nor does a black have any superiority over a white; [none have superiority over another] except by piety and good action. Learn that every Muslim is a brother to every Muslim and that the Muslims constitute one brotherhood. Nothing shall be legitimate to a Muslim which belongs to a fellow Muslim unless it was given freely and willingly. Do not, therefore, do injustice to yourselves.

Remember, one day you will appear before God and answer for your deeds. So beware, do not stray from the path of righteousness after I am gone.

O People, no prophet or apostle will come after me, and no new faith will be born. Reason well, therefore, O people, and understand words which I convey to you. I leave behind me two things, the Quran and my example, the Sunnah, and if you follow these you will never go astray.

All those who listen to me shall pass on my words to others and those to others again; and it may be that the last ones understand my words better than those who listen to me directly. Be my witness, O God, that I have conveyed your message to your people.”

It was at this point, in Arafat, that the following revelation was sent down to Nabi ﷺ: "…This day have I perfected your religion for you, completed My Grace upon you, and have chosen Islam for you as your religion…" (Quran 5:3)

It looked to me like 70% of all the pilgrims were making this trip on foot. The people on busses on the Bridges above us said we look like flowing water, all walking in the same direction. Almost floating. We took our sweet time, because there was literally nowhere else we had to be in the world. Some chanted Labaik in solemn and uniform minor chords which punctuated their reverence and struggle. As if in marching formation, they proclaimed to God that they were present for service. Others chanted Labaik in perfect harmonies of major chords, and it was as if the sound fluttered around your ears like tiny butterflies. It lifted the spirit and urged me on. I suppose some find Imaan in the solemnity and humility of prayer, and others find Imaan in the colour, music and harmony of this life. It wasn't difficult for me to decide which group I belonged to. We Labaiked our way to our resting place for the night, Muzdalifa. Ahead of us we saw the clock tower, sparkling like the Eiffel Tower, in celebration of Eid. It beckoned to us for Tawaaf e Ziyarah/Ifaadha, but it was just out of reach for the present moment. So we collected some pebbles, took selfies with Palestinians and rested our tired bones for the night.

Day 3 - Eid Ul Adha

At around 10am we walked to the Jamarat Complex to pelt the biggest Jamarah, Aqabah. There are three stone pillars which are pelted 7 times. The biggest of them, Aqabah, commemorates Abraham’s stoning of the devil when he tried to convince Abraham not to sacrifice his son, Ishmael. The second biggest, Wusta, commemorates Hajira’s stoning of the devil when he tried to convince her to stop the sacrificing of her son, Ishmael. The smallest, Oola, commemorates Ishmael’s stoning of the devil when he tried to convince Ishmael to put an end to his own sacrificing. Such was the firmness of their faith. From a less literal perspective, the stoning is symbolic of the pilgrim casting off their lower selves and more baser desires/needs. One also casts off a major sin with each stone throw. We were told that the devil is as close to us all as the blood in our veins. Although the evil forces of this universe were dealt a humiliating blow on Arafat, with the sins of the pilgrims being forgiven, the work of misleading Believers doesn't stop. It was hard to imagine that the devil was absent at “his” own stoning. There was violence in the eyes of people casting stones. One man charged straight through the crowd with a menacing smile on his face, which didn't look normal to me. Thousands have died in the Jamarat Complex because people lose all sense of reserve and decorum. Some primal force takes over their minds. Thereafter we waited for confirmation that our animal sacrifice had been done, cut our hair, and were officially out of the condition of Ihram. After resting for the afternoon we decided to make our way to Masjid al Haram at about 9pm for Tawaaf e Ziyarah which is a compulsory act of Hajj, and the Sa'ee which is waajib (not compulsory, but if excluded without a valid reason requires a sacrifice/charitable offering). Road Travel during the 5 days of Hajj is a nightmare! It seems that only official taxi drivers and SAPTCO busses are allowed anywhere near the Haram, and you often spend an entire week's salary on a one way trip (slight exaggeration). However, we've been told that God in His infinite Bounty and Mercy will return every cent to us which was spent during pilgrimage, so we quietly allowed them to extort us. Being drivers in Johannesburg, my mother and I happily navigated (I mean pushed our way) through the crowded Tawaaf and Sa'ee. By the time we returned to our camp, the Athan for Tahajjud began (3:30am), which meant we were gone for a full 6 hours!! So we soldiered on through our camp’s fajr salaah in congregation. Thereafter our Sheikh, who is a convert, decided to tell us his entire journey to Islam, which although interesting, could've been kept for a more reasonable hour in the day. My mother, sister and I nodded deeply off somewhere in the autobiography around the time he had to be circumcised before he could take his Shahaadah (pledge of Imaan).

Day 4, 5 and 6- 3 Days of Yaumul Tashreeq:

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said concerning the days of Tashreeq: “They are days of eating, drinking and remembering Allah.” Which is basically all that we did. More enlightening discussions were had, and more socialising was done. People shared what little provisions they had left, shared stories, hopes and dreams. I had a fantastic discussion with a fellow Hujaaj after pelting the Jamarat at night on one of the days of Tashreeq. We talked about everything from Oedipus Rex to Catherine de Medici, Machiavelli, to the meaning of dreams and Plato and our recognition of the form of things from our time in the spiritual realms. She comforted me immensely regarding my primitive notions of what a sin is. She told me that unless I had murdered/harmed someone without cause, or stolen the property of another, any other action in itself is not a sinful thing. It is the intention behind it, and the end (which the action is a means to) which causes the rifts between humans and God. It makes sense that God doesn't forbid certain acts and behaviours for what they are. They are forbidden because of what they draw out of us. They are forbidden because we are weak creatures with very little self control and often very little accountability. There are some questionable acts that unravel the very fabric of our societies and beings. Many may claim that they are highly functional (and often highly spiritual) alcohol drinkers, or drug users. However, as our Sheikh told us, we have a very finely tuned sin-detector inside of us, our hearts. Our hearts feel very uneasy when we partake in things that we wouldn't want anyone to know about firstly, and secondly that causel a feeling of unease inside us. Possessing taqwa requires us to ask ourselves the following question before every action, even before every thought: Would Allah be happy with me if I did/thought this?

Would I be happy with me if I did/thought this?

Armed with my new outlook on action vs intention I now have a more healthy outlook on halaal vs haraam. The lady I spoke to also told me that I was immensely fortunate to have made this journey as a 29 year old unmarried and childless woman, because I'm young enough to reinvent myself without major repurcussions and old enough to have the mental capacity to appreciate this journey. I am starting a new book of life from this day onwards, the same as the day that I was born. A second chance at life. Any Believer would tell you that Paradise is the ultimate attainment, and that it is within reach after pilgrimage, but i am excited for this life! I am excited to approach it with fresh eyes. I am excited to partake in all the halaal enjoyment that this world has to offer me, and I am excited to do my bit to leave this world just a little bit better than I found it.

The three days of Tashreeq passed as such, pelting, eating heartburn-inducing curries, sharing advice on how best to survive the toilets of Mina and remembering God. By the morning of the 6th day of Hajj we were happily on our way back to Aziziyah, which had beds and showers that were completely separate from the toilet :)

#hajj2018

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ghidei-blog1 · 6 years

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Am I more than my genes? Faith, identity, and DNA

Just genes?

The word “genome” suggests to many that our DNA is simply a collection of genes from end-to-end, like books on a bookshelf. But it turns out that large regions of our DNA do not encode genes. Some once called these regions “junk DNA.” But this was a mistake.** More recently, they have been referred to as the “dark matter” of our genome. But what was once dark is slowly coming to light, and what was once junk is being revealed as treasure. The genome is filled with what we call “control elements” that act like switches or rheostats, dialing the activation of nearby genes up and down based on whatever is needed in a particular cell. An increasing number of devastating complex diseases, such as cancer, diabetes, and heart disease, can often be traced back, in part, to these rheostats not working properly. What’s more, environmental variables – like diet – can influence the way that genes and their rheostats work, thereby altering genome function and cell behavior, without making changes to the underlying DNA sequence at all. So, we cannot reduce an individual to a set of genes, or even an entire DNA sequence, rheostats and all, because how that DNA works depends, at least in part, on the environment as well.

Beyond human DNA

A remarkable discovery in biology in the last decade is that the human body is home to trillions of microorganisms, predominantly bacteria. Trillions. This is a staggering number. In fact, based on the most recent conservative estimate, more than 50% of the cells in our bodies have bacterial, not human, DNA. These bacteria live alongside and communicate with our human cells in a variety of organs, including the skin, the lung, and the intestine, and it turns out that they are essential for the healthy functioning of those organs. For example, microbes in our gut are critical for controlling how we absorb nutrients from the food we eat and how we maintain energy balance throughout the day. Some scientists are beginning to suggest that gut microbes may contribute to our mood and even how we learn and make memories. Changes in the bacteria can dramatically alter the way our human cells work, without making any changes to our DNA sequence at all, and this could lead to altered human behavior, and various diseases, such as diabetes, cancer, and even mental health conditions. So the bacteria in our body obliterate the view that humans are defined entirely by our own DNA. Our biological identities are closely wrapped up in bacteria!

Truth beyond science

So far, in this discussion of human identity, I’ve been focused on the science. But is science the only way of knowing? Is it the sole arbiter of truth? There is a common misconception that scientific explanations are exclusive: if I’ve understood something scientifically, I’ve understood it fully. Science offers a set of powerful tools for answering “what” and “how” questions about the natural world, but it does not have the tools to answer the big “why” questions of meaning and purpose. This does not by itself mean that there are answers to the “why” questions elsewhere – but it does mean that we have to be faithful to what science is, and not extend its purview beyond what it is capable of addressing. Science is necessarily agnostic with respect to anything outside of the natural realm. It neither accepts it, nor can it refute it. Therefore, the important point here is that science does not constrain us to look only to science in our search for the complete truth about who we are. So, beyond a scientific explanation of who I am, including genes, rheostats, environment, and bacteria, where else might I look to define my identity? Perhaps my name is a good starting point.

My name

My name, Praveen Sethupathy, is of Sanskrit origin. Praveen means “skillful.” Sethupathy means “lord of the bridge.” The bridge refers to a chain of limestone shoals that connected the southern tip of India to the northern coast of Sri Lanka. According to the ancient Hindu epic, “The Ramayana,” the bridge was constructed by lord Rama – an incarnation of the Hindu god Vishnu – and his army. My name is steeped in ancient Indian tradition and Hindu lore and my Indian heritage is an important part of who I am. I was raised as a Hindu for eighteen years and have always appreciated Hinduism as a rich culture to enjoy. But it wasn’t until my college years that I realized I didn’t really know much about Hinduism as a belief system to live by. I had gone through the motions of various rituals and was familiar with many of the traditions and stories of the faith. But I had no idea what Hinduism meant to me. I hadn’t really stopped to think about it.

An unlikely hero

As a curious undergrad at Cornell University, I embarked on an ambitious endeavor to read the Hindu Scriptures. But as I learned more about Hinduism, I became curious about how it compared to the host of other world religions. Eventually, I studied the major texts from many other religions, including Buddhism, Islam, and Christianity. What was it that stood out for me in Christianity? It was meeting the unique person of Jesus. He’s the supposed hero of the story, but he’s naked and broken on a cross. It seemed the opposite of a hero at first. But what I would learn is that he wasn’t on the cross because he was powerless to stop it. He was on the cross because that’s precisely how he chose to exercise his power – laying his life down solely for the sake of others. As a Christian, one who claims to follow in the way of Christ, I am also called to live a life of self-sacrifice for the benefit of others. The Scriptures say, “Let each of you look not only to his own interest, but also to the interest of others.” I don’t always live up to that calling, but it really does shape the way that I think about who I am. The Christian call is not to be safe and sound, bunkered within the confines of our walls. No, it’s to be willing to risk ourselves for the life and dignity of others. It is to consider the interests and needs of others even if it compromises our own safety or comforts. I am not compelled to this ethic merely out of logic, science, or reason, but by my faith in who Christ is, what he has done for me, and the example that he sets for me. Service toward others is not what we do when we want to feel good about ourselves or because it’s merely an evolutionary mechanism to benefit our “selfish genes.” I believe it��s what we do when we understand what it really means to be human.

Evaluating the evidence

As a biologist, I’ve learned that biological science is very rarely about “proof.” It’s more like detective work: accumulating evidence toward the most reasonable or likely explanation. So when I started getting interested in Christianity, I started evaluating the historicity of the gospel accounts of Jesus’ life. I did this much in the same way I carry out scientific work: gather data, make inferences, and make the case for the most likely scenario. Why was this so important for me to do? Stripped of Christ, Christianity was no more or less compelling to me than any other faith tradition. It was the person of Jesus that made all the difference.

Finding my identity

When I started following Jesus and finding my identity in him, it was a very confusing time for my family. Was I rejecting my Indian culture? Would I change my name to John or maybe Peter? Their confusion was not unfounded: many before me had done exactly that. But Jesus did not come to change names or to move people from one culture to another. He came to renew hearts and minds, and to bring life where there was death. So it was my joy to share with my family that I would remain Praveen Sethupathy—that Christ was laying a claim on my heart, not on my name. Becoming Christian had nothing to do with rejecting my Indian heritage. Rather, it was about embracing God’s interwoven presence in the history of mankind, Christ’s love and sacrifice for us, and our desperate need for him. Christ was brewing within me a renewed sense of purpose, commitment to others, and passion for justice.

Faith and culture

My Hindu heritage is part of who I am, a part of who I believe God created me to be. Perhaps you feel the same about your cultural background. But our culture and our core beliefs too often get confused as the same thing. Just as our bodies are not fully determined by our genes, so our identity is not dictated solely by our cultural background. If, like me, you come from a non-western background, don’t be put off by the misconception that Christianity is a western religion: it isn’t. Christianity began as a movement of Palestinian Jews. The first African convert to Christianity is recorded in the New Testament book of Acts. The Christian movement in India traces its roots back to the second century. And today, there may be more Christians in Asia and Africa than in Europe and North America.

Keep an open mind

No matter how popular the view of “junk DNA” among some in the scientific community, there was still an openness to the possibility that there was much more to it. In your search for identity, I would challenge you to ask yourself the hard questions and consider possibilities you may have always discounted. Perhaps you have a background in a particular faith tradition, or no faith at all. But if you haven’t questioned what that means to you, or how that shapes who you are, now is a great time to reflect on that and do your own detective work. There’s nothing to lose from keeping an open mind, and if there really is a God who created you, then there’s everything to gain in your search for identity.

Interested in more content from scientists? Read this article by MIT professor, Ian Hutchinson: “Can a scientist believe in the resurrection? Three hypotheses…“

** Addendum to Veritas article

In this article, I stated in the first paragraph that referring to non-gene-coding DNA as “junk” is a ‘mistake.’ I believe it is important to explain this further in order to avoid any misconception of my original intent. Specifically, it is essential to clarify that by this I do not mean that the genome lacks any non-functional DNA. For a more detailed elucidation, it may help to start with a very brief history of the term “junk DNA.”

In 1972, well before the human genome project, Dr. Susumu Ohno predicted astutely that the bulk (>90%) of the human genome is comprised of genetic material that does not code for genes (Ohno, 1972). He reasoned that the non-gene-coding sequences arose in large part due to duplication of genes during evolution, and that these duplicated copies accumulated mutations, lost their original functions, and now serve primarily as “filler space” between the functional genes. He argued that while some of these duplicated gene copies (now generally referred to as ‘pseudogenes’) could in theory evolve new functions, most would likely decay at a neutral rate and remain as degenerate sequences: “failures of nature’s past experiments.” It was in reference to these regions that he coined the term “junk DNA.”

When the human genome project was completed, Dr. Ohno’s central claim was validated – that the bulk of the genome does not code for genes (Lander et al., 2001, Nature). But, importantly, it became clearer than ever before that while pseudogenes are indeed prevalent, the vast majority of Dr. Ohno’s “filler space” is actually comprised of repetitive DNA sequences (or ‘repeats’), which were predicted in 1980 (Orgel and Crick, 1980; Doolittle and Sapienza, 1980), as well as other large stretches of DNA with no known functions. By the early 2000s, the term “junk” had been somewhat organically expanded by some in the scientific community to include all such non-gene-coding DNA (not just the pseudogenes), which was incorrectly perceived by many to be largely inactive. Over time, in some scientific circles and even in everyday parlance, “junk” came to be used rather loosely to refer to any DNA lacking biochemical activity and/or function (though this was not quite the original intent).

It is the broad application of this sense of the word “junk” to non-gene-coding DNA that I am referring to as a ‘mistake.’ It likely would have been no surprise to Dr. Ohno, or indeed to most pre-genome era geneticists, that some portions of what had come to be known as “junk DNA” could function as gene “rheostats”, which I described in my article (McClintock, B., 1956; Britten and Davidson, 1969). But where the post-genome era has been most illuminating is in the sheer abundance and diversity of these “rheostats,” and in the newly evolved complex functions of pseudogenes (e.g., Tam et al., 2008, Cell; Karreth et al., 2015, Cell) and even some types of ‘repeats’ (e.g., Chuong et al., 2013, Nature Genetics; Wang et al., 2014, Nature). My intention in using the word ‘mistake’ was to caution against the persisting notion among some that the vast majority of non-gene-coding sequence has little-to-no biochemical activity or function (since this is how “junk” has come to be understood in some scientific and non-scientific circles). On the other hand, it is equally important to be clear that this caution does not imply that all non-gene-coding DNA is functional or useful to the organism. Indeed, I believe there is at this snapshot in evolutionary time some considerable “junk” in our DNA, with no current function, only a small fraction of which will likely evolve new functions in the future.

On this issue, as is usually the case in science, I believe it is best to avoid dogmatic or extreme views. Also, it would seem that it is perhaps of benefit to altogether avoid terms such as “junk DNA,” since it no longer has a singular meaning in the scientific community. Indeed, as our knowledge has advanced, it is a credit to our field and our enhanced understanding of the human genome that no single term can capture the heterogeneity and nuances of non-gene-coding DNA.

For those who are interested in more about “junk DNA” I encourage you to check out the following article: http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0960982212011542.

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itsfinancethings · 4 years

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