Paris Attacks

In a previous post I wrote about my same-day reaction to the Charlie Hebdo shootings, a jumbled vomit of emotions and questions and critiques comparing it to my feelings on 9/11 back in elementary school. This time is certainly different: Friday’s first incident killed 18 people at a restaurant two blocks from my old apartment and the concert hall is just across the street from my friend’s place where I spent many Friday nights. Even though I’m the farthest from France that I’ve ever been, I felt a much more visceral fear this time for the safety of my friends.  Thanks to social media I could contact those closest to me, and through facebook’s “marked as safe” option got notifications for the well-being of acquaintances, those I’ve lost touch with, and randos I don’t even remember who live in that amazing city I used to call home.

Morning after, courtesy of my old roomie Coban.
Check out his work here.

I realized that I’m a bit too liberal with accepting facebook friend requests but I also saw that my network in France is pretty vast, and the fact that no one I knew was, or had someone close to them (as far as I know of), physically hurt from the attacks is a real blessing. Of course the emotional, psychological trauma some of them experienced, having all public transportation shut down, hearing gunshots and explosions, not knowing where to go, is one that must cling like a virus, one that cannot simply be shaken off. I pray that you can quickly resume living life, not out of fear but with awareness, and go back to devouring all the beauty and culture that Paris has to offer.

It makes me extremely uncomfortable that WW3 seems to be unraveling before our eyes: Terrorist raids being conducted in cities like Toulouse (where I lived for 2 years.) The news (the propaganda?) tells us that one of the attackers snuck in as a refugee through Greece, and borders must be closed off (of course Greece is the Karen of Europe).  Bombing in Syria has moved from aggressive to full on assault, and it all feels wayyyy too politically convenient to be as simple as the dark empire versus the rest of the galaxy.  But the more we nuke the shit out of our enemies the more hate that is unfurled, and it continues on and on exponentially in a downward spiral of revenge and revenge and this is when the line between reality and fiction like a Brave New World gets extremely blurry. History repeats itself. I keep making the same fucking mistakes, like drunk eating cookies every Saturday night. How can I expect the entire world to change, when I can’t even prevent a Sunday morning stomachache?

The best solution I see, a long term one, maybe too long and vast but at least a noble one, is to continue efforts to provide education EVERYWHERE in the world. That means in Somalia, in Pakistan. In Southeast Asia. Africa. Syria. In rural America. In south side Chicago.  In districts that give up on students with special needs, or families that cannot afford school lunches. One of these is IN REACH. Even if we are not the ones to make or take decisions on bombing a nation, sharing the value of education, the ability to think, assess, learn and grow, open opportunities, meet like-minded people, meet those with opposing views, and make judgments based on reason rather than just emotion will all heighten the level of acceptance, or rather tolerance, around the world. I mean isn’t that was “peace” really is? Tolerating those who are different from us? We don’t all need to be friends. I still hold a grudge against that girl from Saturday who stepped on me with her stilettos. But the ability to open our ears and eyes and mind and digesting information and view things from multiple angles is a skill that needs to be learned and developed, AT a young age, and around others. IN SCHOOLS. In extracurricular activities. In communities. With teachers that care, who make enough money to build curriculums and are not in constant fear of losing their jobs, or in certain parts of the world, their lives. The definition of evil is an attack on a school, because that is attacking the right to learn and become a human being with depth, which is fundamental to all religions.

So let us make it a priority to preserve schools, to protect students, and to value education. If these are priorities on our minds, there WILL be a positive shift. Again, it all feels so out of reach, even in my hometown where students are taught first how to fill in multiple choice bubbles before learning how to raise their hands. But affecting change doesn’t always have to be on a global, national, or district level. Find a kid, a peer, a mentor, maybe not a Packers fan but someone to discuss the epidemic of insufficient education. It starts with awareness, a positive outlook, and an extended hand. Let’s value our teachers, and make more of them. And also become students. Schools don’t have to be in classrooms. And tolerance CAN be taught.   

Living in Paris with Today's Terrorism

There was a shooting today in Paris. Twelve people died, among them prominent journalists and cartoonists. Two were police officers. It was a planned massacre, targeting a satirical magazine that publishes irreverent images, offending those with extremist beliefs. You can read more accurate information about the event and the magazine Charlie Hebdo here. I can really only share my take.

I learned about the shooting just after lunch, when a colleague told me to check the news. I saw the headline “Terror in Paris” on cnn’s homepage and felt confused since I just returned from a normal, uneventful meal on one of the city’s busiest streets, and nothing like “terror” crossed my mind.

What the hell? Why hadn’t there been screaming and shouting? Why were people out shopping, eating, laughing? Did they not know what had happened either? The lack of concern upset me. I clearly remember 9/11 (I was wearing pigtails and those terrible overalls that weren’t even cool then) and our teachers wheeled in televisions and we all watched in silence, not really sure what was happening. I was young, but even though I was hundreds of miles away it still felt very close and I just wanted to be next to my mom (she happened to teach in the same building… so that was convenient). I understand today’s events are not quite the same scale. And yet, it was an attack on freedom of speech and that is something very close at heart. How come here in Paris, where I work in the city center just minutes away from major sites, I had to go online to find out that the country’s biggest terrorist attack in decades had just occurred only 3 kilometers away?

"Je Suis Charlie"

There was no announcement at work, no discussion about what was going on, and how and if this could possibly affect us.  My first thought was “told you so” about the incompetent French police force in their berets for letting the gunmen get away. Then back to, why hadn’t we stopped working? Sure, none of us were directly affected and if we let every disaster in the world lead to a moment of silence, a word would never be spoken.

But a publication was attacked today for expressing (some could say in a distasteful way) a perspective. An idea. A cartoon. A story. A joke. I have worked on editorial staffs and never written anything worth getting shot over (except maybe for being so awfully boring), and so I cannot say I’ve felt the risks as those at the magazine (who had previously received threats). But the thought of fearing for your life for an idea, for working or interning to realize that idea, even cleaning the floors of the rooms where those ideas are being created… this is so fundamentally against what I, an outspoken blabbermouth, a writer, and an American, believe in.

Further updates in the story revealed that the gunmen parked their car and hijacked another just five blocks away from where I live. To be honest it made me nervous and I thought about where I’d hide in my apartment if they came in or if I’d run or try some kind of Kung Fu and then I felt stupid and embarrassed for thinking about trying martial arts against a man with a military gun when I can’t even do a pushup. Then I thought I’d go home and do some pushups.

Instead, I went to Place de République, where they were holding a rally to commemorate those killed and to stand up for “liberté d’expression.” There were hundreds, maybe thousands gathered around (and climbing on) the Statue de la République, holding candles and signs reading “Je suis Charlie,” or I am Charlie (for the name of the magazine). I would be lying to say I was moved by the experience. If felt a bit underwhelming, that the teens screaming “we need you Charlie!” were just there for attention and most of them were white and the whole thing felt stilted. It could have been the people laughing and drinking beer next to me, or maybe my paranoia that someone would start shooting, but I just wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

 I walked home with my friend who shared his experiences in London riots and I realized I’ve never actively been, or wanted to be involved in, any serious protests. I watched “The Interview” last week and couldn’t help but wonder if the North Korean government would ever find out and target me (I didn’t enjoy it, I swear!). My mother taught me the gift of paranoia. I’m sure I would have marched for Ferguson if I were in the US, but Chicago gets cold in December and I might have called it quits after hours of nothing spectacular. I don’t know. Maybe it’s weak to be uninvolved, to be scared. Even if I’m too pathetic to do a pushup, I should at least defend these beliefs with a more powerful tool, words. But then again words and pictures can get you killed too.  

Not sure how to round this one up, as it’s late and I’m jetlagged and I’m taking public transportation tomorrow morning to possibly the most populated metro stop in the city. I’m not too concerned, but surprised people around me aren’t more. Maybe it’s something to do with growing up in a country with guns and school shooting drills and hate crimes and inequality constantly on the radar. Maybe that’s why I choose to write about my mom’s pumpkin bread, or stepping in dog shit instead.  I don’t know. I know that what happened today was wrong and disturbing and tragic but there’s many sides to every story, and this is just mine. But I’d like to know more.