O-blog-dee-o-blog-da

By Meza, March 28, 2024

Opinion opportunism, seems to be the order of these days – and so I decided to join the club…. here is mine…

IT IS PROBABLY TRUE THAT NOT ALL PALESTINIAN MOTHERS SEND THEIR SUICIDE BOMB VESTED KIDS TO MURDER ISRAELIS  IN TERRORIST ATTACKS: The “sacrifice” of the MOTHERS  that do has never been denied.  All the while many have, and in so doing have accepted the gift of thousands of dollars, free apartments as payment in return for their child’s martyrdom, and of course also received solace IN THEIR GRIEF from their Jihadist cohorts, such as from Hamas, that now their beloved son (not sure about the daughters) will encounter sexual delight with scores of virgins in the hereafter.

It is indeed painful to grieve for a MOTHER – any mother no matter where. Mothers in Israel and Gaza are suffering as are children, husbands, and partners during this time of war. When someone sitting in their IVORY TOWER opportunistically touts their own grief (albeit already ten years old)  as a mechanism for raising awareness or funds for those whose life experience is so vastly different and whose experience can stand alone in horror and sadness, while failing to elucidate context and concern for ALL MOTHER’S EQUALLY,  then they deserve the response they received from someone like me!

Below is what I term ‘OPINION OPPORTUNISM’ by a leader of CODE PINK –  which speaks in its chutzpah for itself- as well as a screenshot of my response which is equally chutzpahdik, ….. yup she gave me license.

Danaka Katovich, one of CODE PINK’S National Co-Directors, based in Chicago, Illinois, posted the article below and the screenshot is my response that she removed from the comments on her BLOG.

PS: May your mother’s memory be a blessing!

(Originally published at https://danaka.substack.com.) and then on MEDIUM at https://medium.com/@codepink/my-mothers-death-taught-me-life-reflections-on-grief-and-gaza-02e9aafe8533

Lest we forget that between the lines sometimes screams loudest:

10 years ago today I lost my kind, selfless, and complicated mother. Every year that passes feels impossible and there is truly not a single day that I don’t think of her. Green was her favorite color, so I surround myself with green and I remember her. She loved so many things about every day life that makes anyone who knew her think of her often. And today specifically I am thinking about all the other people that her life touched because she was a truly kind person – her life touched so many people I never heard of and will never meet. She was wonderful and complex and was so much more than a mother. Her death taught me so much about life. It taught me so much about being kind. It taught me so much about family and sacrifice and love. And anyone who knew her knew how devastating her death was to everyone in her life – but my mother’s kindness was not unique to this earth, nor was her reach and generosity. Wherever you find people, you will find people like her. I’ve met so many in the last ten years and I remember her.

If you knew my mother, you know what it meant for the world to lose her so suddenly and without closure. Some people weren’t able to say goodbye to her, and I am eternally grateful that I had those last moments with her in hospice. As much as I would normally be thinking of only my mom today, I am sitting with the thousands of little girls in Gaza who lost their mothers. I am thinking of the men who lost their wives that they adored beyond belief, that felt like god answering a prayer. I am thinking of the women who have lost best friends, or are still looking for them under the rubble. At some point in the last 6 months, bombings were killing two mothers every hour. Women who were as kind and complicated as my mom. Women who were generous. Women who always put their children first. Women who struggled with insecurity. Women who maybe sacrificed too much for their own sanity. Women who liked the color green. Women who loved life so deeply and earnestly. Grief alters timelines and it compounds and it makes milestones in life painful. Grief tears the families left behind a part. If you miss my mom today and if you felt pain in the wake of her death: imagine if it was deliberate. Imagine if it happened ten thousand times in the span of five months.

My mother was born and raised in San Leandro, California to another kind and complicated mother.  Today, I am filled with rage instead of grief, that I will undoubtedly share a mother’s death anniversary with dozens of young girls in Gaza and that it is through my tax dollars that will make it possible. I hope anyone who misses her today shares in my rage because there are millions of kind women in the world, from San Leandro to Rafah.

I would like everyone who thinks of her today, or feels compelled by my remembering of her, to donate what you can to help my best friend’s family leave Gaza.

MY RESPONSE (forgive the typos:)*

*”the great grandmother ” – correction “my great grandmother”

“finally and the you…”. – correction – “finally and then YOU…”

MEZA is my Xhosa name…. given to me at a young age.