the most important question you can ask yourself right now
free palestine
In the last few weeks, I’ve uttered the term genocide more times than I can count. Because well, you know. Or I sure hope you do.
Since I am not an expert on the topic, I believe it's essential to refrain from attempting to provide a comprehensive education on the long history of Israel-Palestine through my own words. Nonetheless, I've dedicated a significant amount of time in the past few weeks to studying various resources shared and authored by writers, artists, and activists I deeply respect. These materials have played a crucial role in enhancing my understanding of the insanely disturbing aspects of this genocide. So I will leave links to all those resources (and more) down below so that when you find time out of your week to make space to learn, it will be easy for you to access.
Btw, I believe it’s crucial to note that there are also genocides currently happening in Sudan, Tigray, Congo, and Haiti. And in Nagorno-Karabakh. At the very least.
While I’m no historian, what I do believe I’m qualified to write about is my experience of being someone who is able to connect to myself, make sense of my feelings, and share them in a manner that might help you better understand your own. And so this week, I’m sharing on the importance of a question I’ve been asking myself that has led me to take action and prevent myself from going numb in the midst of all the horror.
As I played back a podcast episode of We Can Do Hard Things titled "Why Are We Never Satisfied?" with Adrienne Maree Brown, something she said struck a chord, just like it did the first time I heard it. But this time around, after October 7th, it hit me even harder.
Brown provided a valuable insight about her early activism days, acknowledging her initial abrasiveness when discussing anti-capitalism and personal liberation with her family. Eventually, she realized that she didn’t want to be the type of person who lectured others about their lives and transitioned from a self-righteous approach to a more thoughtful one. She began to ask: "What does it mean to just live it and let my life be the communication about it?"
Brown went on to say:
“I’m a writer, so I’m going to write about it…God gave me a certain kind of voice and a certain way of hearing things and a certain poetic license…So I always am asking people that too. I’m like, what are your gifts? What were you given? Do you know yet?”
These are excellent questions to be asking ourselves during a time like this. And for me, it’s been helpful to specifically focus on “What are my gifts?” It’s empowering. It’s hopeful. It invites in curiosity and movement.
Navigating these ongoing current events has been a psychologically challenging journey. I've shed countless tears diving into the history of Israel-Palestine, prompting me to re-examine the painful history of warfare in the Philippines, the homeland of my parents, family, and ancestors. Through this exploration, I have been re-confronted with the sobering reality of how my people, and many others, have been systematically conditioned to internalize and perpetuate their own oppression. As I continue to witness my parents focused on merely surviving, without the tools or the motivation to heal, it's heart-wrenching for me to be reminded that our struggle to connect with one another can be directly linked to the lasting wounds inflicted by colonization, ethnic cleansing and occupation.
Almost everyday in the past few weeks has felt like an emotional hangover and any time events like this show up in media, I often find my privilege glaring at me. It boggles my mind that I get to opt in and out of the atrocities whenever I want. How in another part of the world, Palestine is left with two options: “a slow death from lack of food, water, medicine and electricity. Or, a hopefully quick death from an air strike,” and I am here in America, with options galore: one being the option of choosing to ignore it all.
But I choose not to.
I choose not to look away and numb the pain and to focus on my privilege as a gift; I understand that with this privilege comes the power and opportunity to make a difference. And beneath that layer, it’s important for me to recognize, like angel Adrienne Maree Brown, that I too, have a certain kind of voice and “poetic license.” It is a gift I often take for granted because I too often allow fear and an overthinking mind take the wheel—but not right now. Absolutely not right now.
A talented Pakistani writer, Anam Raheem, whose work I follow on Substack, and who was stationed in Gaza for five years with Mercy Corps, posed some thought-provoking ideas in her essay titled “From the river to the sea.” As I scanned this particular paragraph, I found myself compelled to read it multiple times, my eyes carefully tracing the text, absorbing the words, and ensuring that I understood what she was asking to its very core. Raheem writes:
“Those who feel it’s too complex or foreign to have an opinion. Examine that. Take your learning into your own hands. What force is at play here that prevents you from wholeheartedly condemning the mass murder of children? On your dime, no less. Who benefits from the situation being deemed ‘too complex’ for your participation?”
Remaining fully engaged with the events unfolding can be taxing. True healing requires effort, and it asks for a level of courage that allows us to invite the pain, transmute it into something bigger than us, and take meaningful action. Failing to address these issues, neglecting the fundamental sources of our anguish, and pretending that the quest for Palestine's freedom has no bearing on our own well-being all amount to a deliberate choice of ignorance that ultimately only serves those who oppress us.
So by all means, establish your boundaries. Stop consuming when it overwhelms you. Disconnect from the digital noise when you're submerged in an avalanche of information. Grieve, grieve, grieve.
And then come back.
Come back and keep coming back to ask yourself with the utmost curiosity and will to find out: “What are my gifts?” And allow your answer to inform the work you set out to do.
I bought my friend a journal for her birthday a few months ago, and on the cover, there was this incredible quote by illustrator Danielle Coke that read this:
You were created to do good work. Work that empowers and inspires, liberates and transforms, restores and softens.
Yes, work can be hard – as it was meant to be. The verb itself calls us to action, rejecting passivity and demanding sustained effort. It provokes, agitates, and disturbs. But this work – the call for justice – is good work.
It defends the oppressed and frees the captive. It tears down walls and destroys barriers. It changes things.
So when you are feeling weary, or hopeless, or spent, remind yourself that the darkness is being flooded by marvelous light.
Yes, this is work. And it is good.
Remember your gifts.
And let’s go to work.
Links to Resources
I know jumping right into an article about genocide may not be your first task of choice on any given day, so here’s a little comedic refresher on colonization to help ease your way into it.
Still not quite ready to dive right into the darkness? My go-to financial hype woman Berna Anat really knows how to sprinkle some joy on top of the call to action. Also, here’s some more of Trevor Noah’s brilliance.
🍉 Why People Are Using the Watermelon Emoji in Social Posts About Palestine.
Alright, let’s get into it. Here’s a guide that breaks down the history of Israel-Palestine through digestible(ish)—I mean we are talking about genocide here—bullet points. The title refers to it as a “conflict.” It’s evidently more than that.
Fariha Róisín, one of my favorite writers, has a wealth of knowledge on this subject and currently has three different posts on Substack that will help you gain a much deeper understanding of what's going on. This is the first post.
the most cringe thing you can do online rn, plus: being history conscious in the midst of a genocide. Many ppl clicked on this link when I shared it on my IG story, more than any other links I’ve shared on the topic. I wonder why..
Downloading the 5 calls app is one of the simplest ways that you can use your voice to make a difference. Call your reps and demand a cease fire. The app provides you with a quick script and the contact information for each of your city’s representatives. It takes me less than four minutes to call all three of my reps and leave each one of them a voicemail. I get nervous talking to strangers on the phone about serious matters such as this, so I always call after business hours. It still counts! Just make sure to leave your home address/zip code. Tip: If the mailbox is full, click on the link “local offices” under your rep’s photo to access other lines.
Where my writers, poets, and deep feelers at? I’ve read and watched the following poems and personal essays multiple times and have cried during and after the end of every single one. Each piece has felt like a portal that has invited me deeper into myself. Artists are truly magic.
We Teach Life, Sir by Rafeef Ziadeh
Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear by Mosab Abu Toha
my grandfather and home by Mosab Abu Toha
The Palestinian Double Standard by Hala Alyan
I Wish You Knew by Anam Raheem
I screamed after watching this one and sobbed uncontrollably. So fucking powerful.
Revisiting kapwa psychology and decolonization through the lens of the beautiful Leny Strobel.
The Earth is a huge part of this conversation, and we’re forgetting. Thank you to my friend Janice for sharing this one with me.
“There’s a lot of activism happening right now, but there’s a lot of disembodied activism. And there’s a lot of activism that doesn’t have roots in Earth.”
“This work is going to require more than humans.”
While we’re on the topic of Earth, forever returning to the work of Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass.
When you’re really inspired to go in, Jordan Santos provides you with a plethora of links in her piece on Substack titled: “is this making me react or is this making me understand?”
To end, some hopeful medicine from Eryn Allen Kane and aja monet. Whenever you find yourself breaking during all this, trust that what you’re doing is actually breaking open. And return deep within yourself to remember that, you -we- are a Love Supreme.
Val thank you for this, for your voice, and for curating such a thoughtful list of resources- it’s so helpful & I’m slowly making my way thru. this is indeed good work 🙏