Writing with a very heavy heart to an audience I know I don’t have

A mother with her unborn baby. Image Source: Shamsia Hassani

Author: Sahar Fetrat

I woke up yesterday to the terrible news of a maternity ward getting attacked. New-borns were shot dead, death before coming to this world- killed before their birth, not given half a day in the cruel world- one was shot in her leg, the others were carried in their towels full of blood. A mother was shot while holding her precious baby. Pregnant women with their babies were killed in the same ward. The same day, another bomb explosion killed so many who attended a funeral in Nangarhar. The day before that, I woke up to the video of a little girl being sexually abused in front of a camera, filming the dirty hands of the predator touching the child, for the promise of food. Few days before that, this was the news: around 50 Afghan refugees were drowned in the Harirud river by the Iranian border guards. But first, tortured, abused, and then drowned. All of these, plus what is stressing most of my Western friends for ruining their/your “summer plans”— (Corona).

Yesterday, after reading the news and watching the horrific images, I felt so much pain in my body and my heart. It was a collection of sadness, helplessness, a heavy heart, rage, and hopelessness- I felt so much pain that I had to seek refuge in my bed. I slept for 14 hours, hoping I wouldn’t wake up.

Perhaps my words sound too much, too emotional, too demanding, too angry, too sickening and too sick. I agree; it’s sick. I feel sick. I feel sick of this silence. The global silence. The unbearable silence. The collective silence. The silencing silences. Your silences…

So, If you are from the US living your “American Dream” at the cost of so many others’ sleep taken away from them, If you are Iranian fighting against your brutal regime, but chose to stay silent when the same regime kills Afghans, If you are an expat in Kabul who’s only familiar with the pleasure of feeling hip at night/home parties in your condescending bubble; while filling your filthy pockets, If you are an Afghan too cool and privileged to acknowledge people’s pain, the one who silences people when they share their pain and trauma in their social media platforms (the only space they are afforded to do), if you are a European advocating for refugees’ return to their countries, and if you call yourself a human for whom it is not a big deal that Afghans are killed every single day; you are a part of the problem. You contribute. You collaborate. You are a part of what I described at first.

Lastly, I reiterate Blythe Baird’s question, “is silence not an act of violence, too?”??????

Not Sorry.”