Today's inspiration...

No peace on earth... let's go to another planet.

And here I wanted to write about Istanbul...But instead, I find myself angry and sad at the state of our country. Feel free to skip this post if you just want to hear about my travels-- this is going to be a rant about women's rights and gun control. I've been watching the argument about defunding Planned Parenthood for the last few weeks, and increasingly been just exhausted by it. I'm exhausted fighting against a complete and utter lack of facts. I'm exhausted that the same people who are most adamant about the government staying out of the lives of citizens are the quickest to sell out the rights of women to control their own health, wellbeing, and bodies.

Let's be totally clear-- zero federal dollars fund abortion. This is already the law. Federal dollars fund access to birth control, annual health screenings, vaccinations, cholesterol and blood pressure tests, cancer screenings. Planned Parenthood served as my primary healthcare provider for years, when I didn't have health insurance, when I was too broke to even pay my copay, when I didn't feel comfortable navigating a new clinical health system to identify a doctor I trusted, Planned Parenthood went above and beyond to make me feel safe and comfortable despite the fact that they wouldn't get a dime out of me. And I still prefer them. A health clinic built around supporting women is a rare and important thing.

I have seen wonderful, strong, amazing women that I surround myself with brought to tears in the recent weeks watching the most personal decisions they have ever made, including the decision to have an abortion, torn apart and dissected by people who, by nature of their gender, never have to make that decision. Some people don't want, or are not equipped, to have children. From a financial level, the cost of carrying a pregnancy to term to put it up for adoption is much higher than the cost of having an abortion. From a health perspective, an abortion is a safer procedure than giving birth. From a scientific perspective, a fertilized egg is not a life. Eggs are fertilized and do not result in a child being born all the time. From a religious perspective, nobody is requiring you as an individual to have an abortion. If you do not believe in it, you have all the right in the world to carry a pregnancy to term. That's wonderful! If, however, you believe that your religious freedom gives you the right to force your views onto another person, this is not what our religious freedom guarantees. It is the freedom of the individual to practice their religion as they see fit. Not to force those beliefs on people who believe differently from you.

Which brings me to rant number two.... gun control. I dont get it. I really don't. I'm happy to concede that restricting the type of gun being sold is something like a bandaid on a bullet wound (no pun intended). But tens of thousands of Americans die every year because of gun related violence, three fifths through self inflicted wounds. And there are totally non-restrictive ways to prevent this. A national system for purchase approval with a minimum federal standard for purchase eligibility, more stringent mental health and firearm competence checks, required proof of safe storage of weapons, laws governing safe storage, background checks for all gun sales, a national database of registered firearms that private sellers can access to transfer guns to purchasers and also perform requisite background checks. And given the link between guns and suicides, a mandatory waiting period to buy (it can even have a waiver for people who go through enhanced pre-approval for purchasing, similar to TSA pre-screening). 

I'm exhausted by our country. So here's some happy news from Iraq instead.

Today's Inspiration

"We're saturated in words, but in action, we're dying of thirst"

On September 11th from Iraq

This started as an email from a post I put on my Facebook page, but I decided since I've been thinking about it all day, it's worth posting more broadly.

September 11th is a weird day for me. I find the way we mourn publicly to be discomforting personally, and I am always uncomfortable with the way some people's stories are told, while others never are. I posted an article yesterday about how Muslim-Americans stories are often left out of the narrative when we remember 9/11. Normally, I like to let things sit by themselves on Facebook. I prefer not to weigh in, and just offer people something to think about. However, it was pointed out to me that maybe I should have commented more on that particular article. So here goes (paraphrased from an email)..

I think that it is especially important when we are remembering our own pain from terrible tragedies to acknowledge the unanticipated but incredible pain of so many communities in the days, months, and years that followed September 11th. 

I remember finding a Somali girl whose locker was next to mine crying in the months following Sept. 11 because she had been called a terrorist so many times. She was new to the country and that was basically her welcome to America. I remember dad coming home, picking up cleaning supplies, and going back to help clean up the liquor store of the Sikh guy who owned it, because it had been vandalized because people thought he should "go home". An Iraqi boy I worked with lost his dad to terrorism in Iraq, and then was called a terrorist over and over and over again in his school until he snapped and beat the kid up. And yesterday there was news of another Sikh man getting brutally beat up, which is what actually prompted me to post that particular article. 9/11 was one, terrible, instance of terrorism, but Muslims and Muslim-Americans often watch their countries torn up by it for years, and then if they make it to America, they are referred to and treated as the very thing that made them lose their homes, their loved ones, and their communities. They are basically being called the very people responsible for the worst things that ever happened to them. Imagine someone calling a family member of someone who died in 9/11 a terrorist. This is a daily occurrence for Muslims (and non-Muslims who "look" Muslim) in our country. 

I think when we think about our pain and loss, we have to think about the pain and loss of everyone. Yesterday, to me, was a day for remembering the pain and loss that came from that day. And that includes the pain and loss that the Muslim and even minority religious communities experienced, and continue to experience, because of the way people responded following September 11. 

I also think that the way you stand up against this particular kind of terrorism is with increased calls for community and inclusiveness of people who are different from you. Terrorism is all about dividing people-- so bringing people in, making people's stories heard, and acknowledging that they matter even though they are not the same stories as yours, is how you stand up against that. So even though the stories of discrimination that came after 9/11 are not the stories non-Muslims remember, they are an equally important part of what happened to our country, and a part that many people don't want to admit. They are stories that I hear over and over, from people who say that every time something bad happens in the world, Muslims find themselves thinking "Please, God, don't let it be someone who looks like me." I, as a white woman, don't have to worry about being held accountable to the crimes of every white person, but Muslims are constantly feeling the need to apologize for their faith and race. And we stand up against terrorism by acknowledging that fact, by reminding ourselves that these stories matter, that these people matter even though they are different from us, and that we can and should do better. So I want to use the anniversary to remember, to grieve, and to learn to do better moving forward. For me and for others.
 

Ramadan and Radio Silence

Sorry for the radio silence over the last month or so. Life in Baghdad has been this combination of bored past having anything interesting to say and incredibly busy, leaving very little inclination to write anything. I've now been out in Baghdad twice, once for dinner on the Tigris river, which offers this beautiful, tranquil centerpoint winding its way through the city, catching me off guard by how much genuine joy it brought me.

One of many dance and music performances of the evening.

The second was for an Iftar (breaking of the fast during the holy month of Ramadan) dinner for work, with partners and supporters of our organization. The dinner itself was fine, if slightly underwhelming (fan as I am of professional, fancy outings with important people...). But after dinner, I got to stay for my friend's 27th birthday party, held in a big, open air tent behind the hotel, equipped with a stage and tv cameras doing giveaways on Gulf television for Ramadan (giving away A/C units, televisions, travel coupons, etc.), coffee, sweets, shisha (hookah-- flavored tobacco smoked out of a water pipe), music, and dance from across the Middle East. These tents are set up at hotels and parks across Baghdad during Ramadan, giving people places to go and enjoy their time after Iftar with friends and family. Ramadan essentially turns daily life on its head, especially when it falls during the longest days of the year like it does this year. For the uninitiated, Ramadan is the month in Islam where Muslims fast from sun up to sun down. This should include everything-- smoking, coffee, water, sex.. not just food. The fasting brings you closer to God, reminds you of all you have in your life, keeps your baser impulses and addictions in check, and gives you a chance to reflect and feel solidarity with the poor. How this plays out in practice, is, of course, different from person to person. Some smoke and drink coffee just to keep themselves civil for those around them (an impulse I totally understand, and, as a coworker, appreciate). Others drink water, but otherwise fast. Some don't fast at all, either for health or personal preference. 

But back to the birthday party-- The heady combination of my first real, genuine outing in Baghdad with my friends, and my first Ramadan here made it feel like a prison break of sorts. Not that the guest house is bad-- but you really do start to get a little stir crazy, and getting to experience a taste of normalcy can go a long way in balancing that out. My friends here seem pretty cognizant of that, and ask me regularly if there is anything I need "from the outside," as though they are smuggling me goods.

In the meantime, I spend a lot of time hanging out in my room, listening to music, chatting with friends back home and elsewhere in Iraq, working, reading, and in today's case, drawing.

Figured I'd change it up and draw a bird instead of stick figures.

Speaking of friends elsewhere in Iraq, I have a friend deeply homesick for Baghdad, and just wanting a taste of Baghdad's air-- I'm trying to come up with something to bring him when I leave here. So far, all I've come up with is finding a nice bottle somewhere and making some sort of label for it of Baghdad air, or filling it with dirt, or something-- Baghdad in a Bottle-- and bringing that back so he can have a bit of Baghdad with him. It's hard when I can't go out either. Hard to find the right thing. The depth of homesickness that comes with displacement isn't something I can relate to, but maybe I can do something to help... Anyway, I'm open to suggestions, if anyone has any.

Baghdad really is interesting-- the one thing people keep telling me, keep reminding me, is that Baghdad isn't what you see in the news. And they are right. Baghdad isn't just bombs and destruction-- it's parks and picnics and concerts and art and markets and restaurants and birthday parties. It is fun, and lively, and active. Life continues, even amidst over ten years of pain and destruction. Baghdad is the heart of Iraq-- its epicenter for culture and history. And every tiny taste of it I've been able to get has been totally worth it. It breaks my heart to think of what this city must have once been like, and to hear my friends describe the Baghdad of their childhoods, the one that they struggle to keep alive, while the international media bombards the world with images of hatred and pain. Baghdad is so much more than that, and just like in Palestine, that is the story that people most want to share.

Sunflowers and razor wire

Welcome to Baghdad.

Do you focus on the razor wire, or the sunflowers?

#Draw4Atena

Now, I am definitely not an artist, and I don't think this will actually change the mind of an oppressive regime. But it's also such a small ask.

Atena Farghadani is a cartoonist in Iran who was imprisoned for 12 years for her cartoons standing up against an oppressive law. Learn more about her work, and the #Draw4Atena call put out by Comic Riffs here. To check out an actual cartoonist's amazing response, check out Zen Pencils (a favorite blog of mine for many reasons).

Atena's response from her conviction is this:

Before 2009, I used to ask myself: why some people can't afford their food even if they try so hard, or why some little kids have to do heavy jobs, why some people should be executed by other people, I always asked myself why I'm able to study in university but some people like "Baha’is" are devised from education because of their beliefs, or why my dad always advised me not to talk about politics in university or taxi, specially about the leader! I got lots of my answers in 2009 (elections which ended up cheating and changing the votes and caused millions of people to start protesting against government and an uncertain number of people were murdered in streets or under torture in prisons, lots of people were imprisoned and still are in prison... )

If after 2009 I was present by the graves of 2009's martyrs or I joined their funeral was because that their murderers were never found and government also insulted and treated them with a disrespectful attitude, I just tried to heal their families, because I felt we're all members of one family.

If I did anything against execution is because I think that execution is an inhumane and false punishment, doesn't matter if it's a drug trafficker's execution or a political activist. I imagined my family in their families' position and I felt we're all one family!

If I objected that why our Baha’i (a religious belief) compatriots don't have the right to study was because I imagined myself in their position and I felt they're a member of my family and each person with any nations, beliefs, and thoughts should have the same and equal rights and equality should run in society.

If I drew that cartoon of assembly representatives was because I believe that if someone choose arts as their subject but do not criticize the issues of their society, have betrayed themselves, their superego, and their society.

But about insulting the Iranian Revolutionary Guards and three branches during the interrogation, the IRG officers put lots of pressure on me by repeating this statement that Ms. Farghadani you should be ashamed of God that you sold out your family to your beliefs and you're not giving up and you're not telling us your friends' names! They also repeated this sentence that your mother is in hospital because of you, so because of the pressure I screamed the fact that has been in Iranian people's hearts for years...

Is it not true that we're a number of families which belong to a united family named society? Or the slogan that all the humans are parts of a body made from the same soul? Or the quote that whatever you wish for yourself, wish it for others as well!?

Is it my fault that I tried to do what these slogans are saying? After all I have to say that in my inside court, my superego was my judge, and I'm honored and proud.

I kiss every each of my family members' hands, a mother who taught me pride and resistance, a father who taught me manhood, a sister who taught me toleration, and a brother who taught me curiosity and insistence.

Women like this, with so much courage and strength, amaze me every day.

Adulthood

First of all, I've made it to Baghdad and settled in! Our house here is older and not quite as nice as the one in Erbil, but it's comfortable enough and I'm pretty well nested into my new dwellings.

Now, onto adulthood. I was reading this article on the New York Times today, and as a 26 year old, I have to say, I find it a little amusing every time I read something written by someone in their fifties about the plight of "kids today." 

I'll be totally honest, I don't always necessarily identify as an adult, and it's not because I'm lost and misguided, or because I lack financial resources, or because I still depend on my parents (love you, mama! Thanks for raising me to be independent). It is, by and large, because I don't necessarily or inherently want those things that are the big markers of adulthood--- a house, a spouse, children. Not that I don't want those things, but they are definitely not the milestones by which I measure my life. I want a career, and yes, as mentioned in the article, I want one with meaning. As the American work week has increased, and the likelihood of social security for my generation has decreased, I fully understand that I could be working 60 hours of my week for the rest of my life, and so yes, I want a job that I enjoy and that gives me a sense of passion and purpose. But this isn't a mindless endeavor on my part, or wishful thinking. I understand that to be able to do this effectively, I have to cultivate skills to make it happen. And I'd like to think that I have done so. (I am here, after all). 

There are aspects of "adulthood" that really appeal to me, and it's only been since I've been here that I've really thought about how to define my own version of adulthood. There are a lot of adults, as I think of them, who I really admire, but few who I look up to as a potential model for my own life. My life, my adulthood, is going to look different than the adulthood that came before me. And as long as that's true, and I lack something to model it after, I struggle to define myself as an adult.

This is something I've been thinking about a lot since I've been here, and after watching Aja Monet's "What I've Learned," I wrote my own version. So here's what I've learned in my short time here...

I know that the human brain is still developing to age 26. I think about this a lot, because at 26, my brain is solidifying into the person I will be for the rest of my life. I hope she's someone I like.

I know I'm young, at times needlessly brash and at times painfully subdued. Even at my age, or maybe because of it, I know the system in which we live is broken. But a glass of red wine after a long day and good conversation can put one of the pieces back into place. A protest can too. 

The sound of laughter, unbridled, is beautiful, and the turn of a page is entrancing, and a certain mix of spices can evoke just about anything-- fear, travels long forgotten, my childhood kitchen.

I know that 6 elements make up something like 80% of the planet's composition. I am, literally, stardust. And rain. And science is the closest thing I understand to the divine. Don't get me wrong, it is divine. Magic exists, in the atoms that create our universe, in the shapes of clouds, in the sounds of rain and the minerals in dust. 

I've learned that death is a consequence of living, that life is best spent engaged, and that I know how to disengage with the best of them. Waiting is a luxury afforded to the living. 

I know art has the power to connect people through its beauty, and that power should not be used frivolously, but to draw attention where it is needed most. I don't use art enough as a means of self-expression. Sometimes I wish I still did. I know that graffiti and tattoos are the strongest form of visual art to me. Maybe it's the contrast between the fleeting and the permanent. I know that a pen is a powerful weapon, and mine seems to be low on ink. Too often, I don't wield my pen carefully enough.

 I know the game is rigged against me as a woman, but that the rigging isn't tied as tight on me as it is on others. Even with dice loaded, I know I want to play, to try to make it better for the next person. I know that desperation looks the same around the world. It looks like scared children, hungry men, rocks pitted against guns, and women with loads too heavy for their backs to carry. 

I know that anger and disillusionment is an easy default in this world we live in-- for me as much as anyone. But I know people, against all odds, survive. 

"It's not because things are difficult that we dare not venture; its because we dare not venture that they are difficult" - Seneca

I think when most people (myself included) envision life in other countries, we imagine adventure. Travel. We don't envision doing the same mundane things we do back home. But the reality is I spend most of my time in an office, sitting in front of my laptop. In fact, my daily routine here looks startlingly like my daily routine back home. I wake up (usually later than I mean to), make coffee, take a shower, get ready, go to work, sit in front of a computer for eight hours, come home, cook dinner, think about (but end up putting off) going for a run, hang out with roommates, and go to bed. The one difference is that I am watching way less tv here than I do in the States (I blame the Roomate for the copious amounts of tv I watch back home). Which is not to say that I don't watch much tv.

In any case... I am just always struck by how normal life is everywhere in the world. I know I shouldn't be. I know it's probably a little ethnocentric of me to somehow think that my routine is drastically different from the morning routines of Palestine, or Iraq, or Prague. But I am always a little surprised to find that mundane routines are the most universal thing. Life here is no more an adventure than life in the States. Which is to say, I suppose, that life is an adventure no matter where you are. I just happen to like it here.

Things I've learned since arriving in Iraq

1. Given enough repetition, I will answer to anything. Two of my coworkers call me (in Arabic) "Arab Girl", which I now answer to as though it's my name.

2. It only takes a couple weeks to adapt to 106 degree weather. I doubt the same will be true of 120.

3.I'm inherently vaguely suspicious of other Westerners who speak Arabic, despite speaking it myself. Especially if they're better than me. It might be jealousy.

4. After several years of reasonably avid wine drinking, I realized upon arrival that I can't open a bottle of wine with a normal corkscrew. Instead, I required the one with arms (thanks, mom!). This has since been remedied.

5. Indian food in Iraq is better than Portland. And Indian food in Portland is pretty spectacular, right Shaun?

6. Ordering food for delivery is a bitch in a country with no addresses. I still do it pretty often.

7. Humor is most definitely NOT universal. I went to see the Avengers movie with coworkers, and was very often the only one laughing at jokes. Some of this may have been the quippy nature of the jokes, but then the rest of the theater laughed at things that remain a total mystery to me. And as a coworker leaned over to another and whispered (audibly) "Megan laughs at the weirdest things."

8. The Black Mamba snake lives in a one square mile radius, and is highly territorial. If you build your house in that mile, it will come right on in and make himself at home. If you remove him, he'll be back. (I learned this from a coworker who previously worked in South Sudan-- they don't live in Iraq).

9. The expression "The journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step" is used in Arabic as well as English.

“If in order to kill the enemy you have to kill an innocent, don’t take the shot. Don’t create more enemies than you take out by some immoral act.” - James Mattis

In the early days of the Iraq war, civilian casualties were due especially not to a carelessness of troops, but to a careful strategy on the part of people who desperately wanted to maintain their own power within Iraq, even as the tides were turning against them.

Imagine this--- you are sitting at home, in your capital city, and you know that things where you live aren't great. The government is corrupt, but you and your loved ones are relatively well off and are all getting by just fine. You hear that the military of Foreign is planning to come in with intent to overthrow the current, corrupt government. Knowing what you know, you have no particular feelings about this, one way or another. As long as you and your family continue to get by on a daily basis, who is in charge of the government isn't really a top concern, and you have nothing in particular against Foreign or their government.

One day, as your child is walking home from school, she is killed by shelling in the area by Foreign's military. How do you feel about Foreign now? In all likelihood, your "Foreign meter" has gone from "neutral" to "negative," right?*

That shift, from neutral to negative, was essential in maintaining resistance, if not outright violence, against the US military. And how do you accomplish this, if you are a combatant? Easy, you move into a civilian area and you fire outward. The response from US forces might take you down, but it will probably take a couple innocent civilians down with you, and that will cultivate the kind of anger needed to keep the war moving and to hang onto any vestiges of power your family might have. That strategy is the reason the quote in the title of this post is so essential. The death of innocents creates enemies.

That strategy is also why Iraq continues to fall apart-- as people exact revenge against one another's religious sects, tribes, families, communities, or ethnic groups, trying to even the score, everyone is becoming the enemy of everyone else. There is no greater driver of hatred than revenge, and without access to a justice system that sees everyone equally, revenge is the only way to balance the books for a lost loved one. People here aren't violent, nor are they uneducated. In fact, Iraq is an incredibly well-educated country as a whole, for men and women alike. Rather, with no appropriate way to obtain justice, they seek their own. It's not good, but it is understandable.

What would you do if your loved one died, and nobody did a damn thing about it? Nobody looked; nobody cared? I'd hazard that even the most peaceful among us would at least contemplate lashing out. Now imagine this has happened not once, not twice, but tens of times in your family and among your community. Still nobody sees. What would you do then? How long would it take for you to turn to violence?

The violence that continues to grip this country is hard to understand as an outsider. But as a human, looking at human relationships, it is all too simple, It's painful, and unfortunate, but the ultimate breakdown to a unified Iraq is a lack of a strong, functional, representative government that hears everyone equally. From the US, it's way too easy to write off conflict as "over there"... as in "do those people over there just love fighting?".... but is it really so different? What would you do in their shoes?

How different would your life look? I'd guess not much.

*The basic framework of this explanation and sentiment comes from the book The Baghdad Blog, which I would highly recommend to anyone interested in an intelligent, sarcastic, deeply cynical first-hand Iraqi account of the onset of the Iraq war. To read the actual blog post, check it out here.

Not all who wander are lost.... but some definitely are.

So I've officially traveled solo for the first time, and I have to say.... I kind of love it. I really thought I would get bored, or lonely, or would run out of stuff to do, and I didn't do any of those things. I saw all of the major touristy things in Prague, with just a couple of exceptions of things I wanted to do that I didn't get around to. I picked up some watercolors (see random doodle above). I started and finished one full book, and finished a second that I've been reading since I was living in Portland. I managed to only check my work email once. I met some exceptionally fun people (typically in and around Irish themed bars), I saw (in no particular order, and with some major things left out I'm sure): the old town square, the Lennon Wall, the Senate and Cultural Gardens, Prague Castle, a particularly excellent bookshop, Charles Bridge, magicians, street musicians, a talking(!) mime, some pretty amazing street art, and enough coffee shops to make me feel right back at home. I also slept a couple of pretty solid days away, so I guess all those guys telling me that I looked like I needed sleep before I left were totally right. 

If you've never traveled solo, let me say, I highly recommend it. There is something to be said for only having to answer to your own schedule and interests. This trip provided a really interesting opportunity, because I was looking to experience "Western" or "American" things as a break from Iraq, looking to rest and catch up on sleep, and looking to do Czech things (both authentically and touristy). I think I succeeded on most fronts. 

The weirdest part is the realization that in my entire life, I've never really done much alone. I consider myself pretty independent, and yet I've always wanted company to go out and eat, to go hang out somewhere, and I've always tended to get bored after a short while of being on my own and eventually sort of found my way back home. Now that I'm used to it though, I may prefer it to traveling with people. 

Anyway, I'm just about to head out for the airport, so double checking my bags are packed and my passport is at the ready. Here's hoping the trip home goes smoothly! 

Please watch this lovely Youtube video. I promise, it's worth it! Entitled: "How to be Alone."

Finding inspiration written on the walls

The locks here line the fence and are representative of couples' love for one another.
They throw the key into the water. The troll is from a Grimm's Fairy Tale (not sure which..)

From the Lennon Wall

From the Lennon Wall

A door...

Me at the Lennon Wall

Magicians!

View from the Charles Bridge

Charles Bridge... Too packed with tourists to be as romantic as it seems.

View from the Charles Bridge.

Add caption

Graffiti at a bus stop.

Graffiti at a bus stop.

This is easily some of my favorite graffiti ever.

Weird graffiti.

More of the same.

More of my favorite.

Hemingway Bar-- a bit less cool than it looks.

Not totally sure what this place is, but it's like
a street art studio of sorts.

When in Bohemia....

Finally off to Prague!

Shakespeare and Sons bookstore.. home away from home. 

Just a cool door I found

One of many beautiful views in Prague

Sneakily taking photos of graffiti artists.

I almost forgot to take pictures
 that first day--
this was at the bust stop on
the way home

Prague Castle

Maybe I'm doing vacation wrong?

Yes, this is a wizard in a
Guy Fawkes mask.

Old City square.

Overpriced souvenirs but
what a cool sign.

Prague Castle cathedral. Apparently they wanted
it to look Gothic, so they attempted to 
dye the building black,but ran out of money to finish.

View of the city through a
cafe doorway.

Prague Castle again.

Sulaymaniyah, Iraq

So I posted these photos as I was getting ready to head out of country for a week in Prague, so I didn't provide any commentary on them. The top photo is from a field visit we did with one of our local community organization partners, which was hosting a meeting with other CSO activists, government representatives and community leaders to coordinate a response for the anticipated influx of IDPs into the region. By bringing government and community leaders together to coordinate their planning, it avoids duplicate services and allows for a better all-around response to needs. For example, IDPs often arrive having had to leave important documents behind. CSO leaders can help IDPs to navigate the government systems to get their documentation renewed, which they can then use to access government food and NFI support.

Glossary of NGO terms:
IDP.............................internally displaced person/people
CSO............................civil society organization (community organization)
NFI.............................non-food items (think blankets, basic kitchen items, clothing, etc.)

Loved

Seen in my neighborhood on my way to a meeting today.

And outside our Suli office.

MENA Women's Security Forum

Well, after two really incredible, albeit exhausting days of intensive Arabic, I really want to write a post that does justice to this amazing conference that I just attended. It was put on by Iraqi Al Amal Association, and hosted probably over 100 women activists from across the MENA region, including from Iraq, Syria, Palestine, Libya, Tunisia, Yemen and Egypt (and those are just the people I met). These women are quite literally saving lives and preventing terrorism in their countries through youth outreach, through community activism, and through lobbying their local governments to make much needed changes. We heard testimony from Yazidi Christians who escaped Mosul about the horrors that they had to endure, as well as from Syrian community leaders, government officials, UN representatives, international NGO representatives, and countless grassroots activists working to combat extremism in their communities and help people to restore a sense of normalcy to their lives in a way that militarization just can't achieve.

Unlike perhaps any other event I've been to, it had a kind of quiet defiance about it. Getting to the event itself for many was a challenge, and yet their dedication to ensuring that their countries continue to move forward overwhelmingly outweighed the challenges. Women are often the at the forefront of conflict in ways we really don't think about in the West. They are the community organizers, operating something best thought of as a makeshift underground railroad sort of system to help people get out of conflict. They are setting up shelters, cooking for the hungry, advocating for change, working on building community between religions or political groups. They view security first and foremost as being about their families and their communities, defining it in as simple of terms as can their children go to school safely to learn and have a future? They bear the trauma of gender-based violence and rape, which is used as a weapon of war. And yet, or perhaps because, of all of that, these women absolutely will not be silenced or made to feel afraid. They will keep making noise until they are heard. These women, like all of the women who inspire me, are in a perpetual state of call to action. They are not the sitting and waiting type. They will make things happen.

I will definitely write more about this, but after two days of stretching my Arabic to its limits (not to mention being out of the office and having to catch up on that work), I'm instead going to leave you with a small smattering of photos.