On Parenthood And Genocide
My son is nine months old, almost 10. He is beautiful. He crawls, quickly, babbling to himself like an old man who is late for an appointment. He pulls up on the furniture, taking his first sideways steps. Four months have passed since I’ve written this article, and an additional 4,500 children have been killed. Children like him. Beautiful.
Meanwhile, American students, my students, protesting their murder, are being handcuffed and beaten — criminalized by the very same apparatus that arms this mass murder of children and their parents.
Sunday is day 218 of genocide and it is Mother’s Day in the United States. And it is a day, like the 217 that preceded it, of sadness and rage. It is also a day that we must act.