May 17, 2014

This letter, written by a father to his daughter, made me stop and think a little bit about the future of the land-of-the-pure.

It's strange how even the shortest separation can make you re-look at things you used to call your own. I have lived in the motherland most of my whole life, give or take a few years spent here and there. I've survived countless tragedies, some at the epicenter, others standing at the sidelines. I've witnessed injustice and cruelty and a callous disregard for humanity all the while knowing that while I mourned today there would be another tomorrow - one where the latest tragedy would overshadow the one we were struggling with today. In a world where something bad happens every day, something worse makes the earlier injustice milder by comparison. And while I know that it might be the worst possible kind of coping mechanism - this gradual transition to utter numbness - it is all that most of us have.

Because what else will we do? Will we stop driving our cars, visiting our friends, frequenting the malls for fear of bomb-blasts, gun-shots or kidnapping followed (if we are lucky) by death? Will we hole up in our houses, hold our breaths and hope - if we don't move too fast - we will escape what the denizens of the Islamic-Republic have in store for us? Will we stop identifying with our religious beliefs because we're fairly certain someone will take offense and in an effort to attain a privileged afterlife feel like it's their duty to shut-us-down? Will we forget how to speak our minds and instead begin to conform mindlessly to what is dictated by those who pretend to know more, but instead jealously try to hide their own ignorance? Will we also, forget how to breathe?

Maybe we will.

Someday.

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