Direct and Unavoidable Consequences
On not writing about Gaza
I’ve had this tab open on my computer for a week now, occasionally clicking over to the blank page to watch the cursor blink.
The plan was to post this poem with a framing essay, not so much because I think the poem needs framing, but because I need some occasion to spur me into writing at length about what’s happening in Gaza, for my own sake.
As a Jew with a Black mom, addressing situations of oppression and liberation has always felt central to my identity. And yet. And yet, when the oppressor is Israel, I find my tongue gets caught, capable of nothing more than a few splintered tweets, a couple catchphrases of solidarity, and some boilerplate calls for a ceasefire.
Last night I watched/witnessed the Poets for Palestine on Zoom, an incredible reading featuring a dozen or so Palestinian poets alongside a collection of allies — I’m sure some of you were there, too. The occasion felt inspired and inspiring, especially the sweeping scope of fargo nissim tbakhi’s piece on the lifecycle of a poem and a US dollar, and Aurielle Marie’s brand new work that was mournful yet vivifying, challenging every ally to stand up and stand out. And yet.
And yet, when I tried to write last night and then again this morning, I was met by the same blinking cursor. Maybe I’m still gathering my thoughts, but it’s more likely I’m still gathering my courage. For now, what I have is the following poem I wrote last week, and a couple more that I might share here in the coming days.
I’ll be trying to write that essay tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that, but for now I want to make just one thing clear: there will be no peace between Israel and Palestine until there is justice for the Palestinian people, until there is freedom, equity, and equal citizenship for everyone, Jew and Arab, under a unified state.
So here’s that poem I wrote — mine is just one voice calling for justice, but I know it’s not the only one. I hope you join us.
The direct and unavoidable consequence of apartheid is violence. The direct and unavoidable consequence of violence is tragedy. The direct and unavoidable consequence of tragedy is change. May we all wish, hope, act, demand, and pray that that change looks like justice and not escalation, somehow, someday.