Skip to main content

Istanbul, Orlando, Denver.

I took a mini-vacation from social media. (And a long vacation from this blog.)

The main reason was the Orlando shooting that killed 49 people. People all over my facebook, twitter, and other forums had their heads up their asses about it. I was angry. I quit. 

Today, I saw #Istanbul trending on twitter and knew that that could be nothing good. It wasn't. An airport suicide bombing killed at least 28 people and injured at least 60. 

A few minutes later, my news feed contained a link that said, "German shoots himself after Denver attack that injures several." 

Orlando, then Istanbul, now Denver. 

I know these are different instances of violence in different places with different motivations. Dash are suspected to be responsible for Istanbul. A lone gunman taking out his self-hatred on 49 gay people just minding their own goddamn business at a nightclub that he used to frequent, is responsible for Orlando. Some German guy with unknown motives shot several people, then himself, in Denver.

That's what I know about these tragedies. I'm not sure how much is truth, half-truth, or outright lies about these people, their motives, and their circumstances. I know they're all different, but at this point, I don't care. Different or not, mass violence on this scale is scary, and far too common, and it needs to stop. 

What makes people think it's a-OK to take out so many other lives? What kind of staggering selfishness makes someone think that if they're going to die, they have the right to take 20+ people down with them?

I don't really know the correct reaction to these kinds of tragedies. There's fear, there's numbness. There's also a great deal of anger. 

Sometimes, I think anger is a good reaction. It's anger that has always motivated me to do things. Anger can motivate people to make change for the better. Fear, on the other hand, motivates people to suspect others and then legislate that fear into institutionalized prejudice. The Republican candidate is using that fear -- of immigrants, Muslims, powerful women -- to get himself elected. 

But then I think about anger and wonder, perhaps the anger I feel after reading about these tragedies is the same kind of anger that motivates someone to shoot people. Or to strap on a suicide vest. Or, after so long feeling fearful and powerless, to direct that fear outwards: harass people online, buy into the stigma, or commit a hate crime. It all has to start somewhere, right? 

I wonder why I don't feel sadness as often, or as deeply, as anger or even fear. Maybe it's because to me, sadness feels like giving up. If I'm sad, that feels like I've accepted that these events are a part of life that you have to grieve normally and just accept. No. That infuriates me. I'm becoming madder just thinking about that. 

Perhaps this is because these events are not just thought exercises for me, fuel for some facebook argument about whether relatives of victims in the Orlando shootings should be given visas or not to attend the funerals. I grew up in a foreign country going to school on a military base. 9/11 impacted my childhood in ways that many other millenials living stateside at the time couldn't imagine. When we got news of terror attacks -- one foiled on a base not two hours away -- we didn't have the Atlantic between us and the news. My mom travels for work. She's been all over: Japan, the Middle East, Africa, and yes, Istanbul. People can feel sad and express sympathy over Istanbul, Orlando, Denver but they can't feel the knowledge that it could have been their mom in Istanbul boarding a flight back to the States. Or themselves at a gay nightclub in Florida. Or their friend who lives in Denver. 

Sad seems distant. Sadness is for people you don't know very far away, and isn't it a shame what the world's coming to, what should we watch on Netflix now? But maybe that's just me. I have no business telling others how to feel. At the same time, I don't apologize for having an opinion. 

Grief is one thing. Just feeling sad is another thing. Grief comprises anger, among other things. We need to keep feeling angry, horrified, outraged, whenever these kinds of terror attacks and mass killings and murder-suicides happen. We need to dig in our heels and avoid the "acceptance" stage of grief. Acceptance means you've given up trying to change things. Anger means you won't -- can't -- accept the way things are. 

Istanbul. Orlando. Denver. I don't accept this.

Edit: when I wrote this post, the death toll was 28 with 60 reported injured. Now, CNN reports that 36 are dead and 147 are injured, that we know of. 


  1. Of course, anger, as just about any emotion, can be channeled into constructive or destructive actions. The same feelings, even caused by the same things, can lead different people down different paths. For all I know, this is one of the very root seeds of decency, compassion, and "morality": making the choice not to allow the anger we may feel any given day to consume us. Not letting the isolation, the bullying, the coldness we're forced into by the world turn us into little more than a wounded life form hoping to take down as much of the earth, of humanity, as we can before we end our own existence.

    Little surprises me anymore, in way of attacks like the ones you mention. It still disgusts me, but doesn't surprise me. I'd be a liar if I said otherwise. But I exercise the choice to be vigilant, to be vocal, to pay attention to the details when the news reports yet another one of these acts. In so doing, I can't stop a damn thing, but I can remember, and choose to educate myself, as opposed to avoiding it, and pretending it isn't there.

    Is that as effective as anger? I don't know. Maybe it's different for each person. Maybe disgust and exhaustion is my motivator, anger yours. But as long as people continue to be motivated to see a world with less of this shit, I think there's at least some hope somewhere.

  2. Thank you for your comment. I agree that it's different for everyone.

    I can't say I'm surprised anymore, but the fact that I have ceased to be surprised makes me angry. The fact that 90% of Americans want to close the background check loophole on gun buying, but no progress is made despite polls, sit-ins, and filibusters angers me. The fact that mass murders could be easily decreased but we've decided not to even TRY seriously irritates me. Like, *after* we legislate gun control measures and they hypothetically don't work, *then* tell me that "people kill people." But, seriously, try first. Ugh.

    I do try to the feeling constructively rather than destructively. Seeking out polls or writing on things or, for instance, voting. Stuff. But my reaction also comes from the feeling that if I were a victim of a hate crime or attack of some other kind, I'd want people pissed off and motivated on my behalf.


Post a Comment

Comments make me happy, so leave lots! :) I will usually reply to each one, so click Notify Me to read my replies.

Popular posts from this blog

What if Iago was a Woman?

For all that I'm a theatre major, I hardly ever talk about acting on this blog. But this project is so cool and fantastic and awesome and wicked that I just have to take a minute and tell you about it. What if Iago was a woman? For those of you who don't know, Iago is a villain in Shakespeare's tragedy Othello. He is considered one of the worst, most evil antagonists in all of Shakespeare.  Plot summary: Othello is a Moor, which in those days referred to someone from Africa. He, a black man, marries Desdemona, a white woman. Society flips its shit, but they can't exactly do anything because he's the General of the Venetian navy and there's a war on. Desdemona, unable to stay with her angry father, goes with Othello to Cyprus, which is in rebellion. A storm sinks the enemy navy and our good guys arrive safely. Iago, though, is not happy. Because Othello passed him over for promotion (and assorted other reasons that all amount to "I just want to fuck sh

Missing people around the holidays

This winter is highly unusual for many of us because of the pandemic. The holidays are often a trauma trigger in any case, beyond the simple stress of preparing the celebrations. For example, some people have bad memories of spending holidays with abusive people, while others have to deal with the grief of experiencing their first holiday without a deceased loved one.  This winter, so many people are spending their holidays sick or without those who have died from COVID-19. One of my friends used to make and boost threads about being kind to yourself around the holidays, geared towards those for whom the season is a grief/trauma anniversary. This year, my grandfather died. Later this year, that friend died. Every time I think of all the people who didn't survive 2020, I think of them and how fucking unfair that feels. In 2020, we weren't able to hold a funeral for my grandfather. The social rituals around death, designed to help us deal with it, have been disrupted. Distance is

Kiffe Kiffe Tomorrow by Faïza Guène, a YA Book By A Young Author

Review time! Kiffe Kiffe Tomorrow is a young adult novel by a young adult, so I was very interested to read it. There's also a #MuslimShelfSpace tag going around, and this review is a nod to that. The idea is that there's been a lot of stereotypes and anti-Muslim sentiment spread around, so buying and boosting books about and by Muslims can help educate people and break down harmful stereotypes.  The author is French with an Algerian background, and  Guène  wrote Kiffe Kiffe Tomorrow when she was in her late teens. Although the novel is not autobiographical, she shares many things with its main character. Doria, like her creator, is the child of immigrants and lives in poor suburban housing projects.   Guène   wrote that she realized girls like herself weren't really represented in books, and felt that Kiffe Kiffe Tomorrow was a way to tell the stories of people in the suburbs who are ignored by the elites of French literature. Plot: Life Sucks, Until It Doesn