My heart bleeds for those people who, finding refuge in music, were killed and maimed. My mind immediately goes to our beautiful, excitable little girl who is a huge fan of pop music generally. She easily could have been one of the kids who died, had it taken place in a different setting. It kills me.
Something like this happens once a year where I worry for my daughter. Our friends of color worry about state violence every day; they worry for the safety of their children every day. The luxury of only worrying occasionally is that privilege many prefer pretending does not exist, or have profound political, personal and social consequences.
We collectively, from here all the way across Europe, shut the door on Syrian refugees fleeing exactly the sort of violence inflicted upon those people in Manchester. Many of those people were children. We even saw images of them floating dead in the water. But we shut the door, and we installed madmen to “protect” us. Last week, our president made a lucrative weapons deal with the state of origin of the majority of 9/11 hijackers. We ran from the specter of monsters into the arms of a real one.
My politics aren’t about division; they’re about holding ourselves accountable for what we are and working toward becoming our best selves.
PHOTO CREDIT: STRINGER | REUTERS