It’s hard to believe that two years ago we were preparing for a global pandemic, stockpiling loo roll and pasta.
A few months later, we would watch a Black man murdered in the street by the police as he called for his mother and said, “I can’t breathe.”
Thirteen months ago, I watched in horror with the rest of the world as a mob of right-wingers stormed the Capitol in my mother country.
Whilst still recovering from these, we now read stories of Ukranian parents trying to explain war to their children while they try to settle to sleep in underground Metro stations amid the moan of air raid sirens, as young men are called to arms and prevented from fleeing to safety.
To centre ourselves in the midst of all of this is quite rightly felt as a self-indulgent privilege and a disservice to the people who have the most to suffer in times like these. But to feel nothing as we witness these atrocities is inhuman.
So what do we do? What can we do? Or perhaps more precisely, what do we do when there seems little we can do?
Continue reading “A response to war”
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