Danse Macabre
The past several years, just before my novel What Survives came out, I became friendly with some Turkish folks who left their homeland for asylum in the United States. Shortly after their arrival, Trump was elected President of the United States. When I asked my new friends if they were concerned about being deported or what might come of this administration, they told me not to worry. There are checks and balances here, they said. They also said: And I am seeking asylum. So, I am fine. Don’t worry about me. As our checks and balances began to be wiped away, I wondered if they realized what was happening. Most of them were too busy trying to establish themselves in a new country, struggling with learning English, dealing with family members and friends in Turkey...
Life isn’t fair
As I gaze at the photo above, I cannot know if these little boys were merely having fun or this was how they managed to eat. They look clean and decently dressed, so perhaps it was a game. Who can come up with the best treasure? I hope it was all in fun, but the neighborhood was poor. I will never know. A number of years ago, when I was a white belt in karate, there was an instructor who would get us all into push-up position, and while we held our bodies up by our palms or fists or fingertips—whichever push-ups we were doing that day—he would give a brief discourse beginning with “life isn’t fair.” Of course, no discourse feels brief when one is holding a push-up position. I took this instructor’s class many times until I myself began to teach, and I...
Facing the Music by Showing Up
Like many Jewish women, I had to think and rethink whether or not I would participate in this year’s Women’s March. Since the March began, my dear friend, Debbie, and I have gone to Santa Fe to participate. We love the spiritual dedication to the native Tewa people and their land, as well as the strong Native American and Hispanic participation in such beautiful surroundings. Some of you may not know about this, but the Women’s March organization has been fraught with accusations of anti-Semitism. I will not go into the details here, but I will refer you to an article in The Nation by Nylah Burton, “A Vital, Vulnerable Conversation with the Leaders of the Women’s March.” Nylah Burton is an African-American Jewish woman, and so the article is, of course, written...
When There Are No Words
In the aftermath of a mass shooting of 11 Jews at the Tree of Life synagogue, my sorrow and outrage lead me to ask: Where is the safe place? When there are no words, I breathe. I take in deep breaths, let them out slowly, until the words come. They come to me reluctantly, and then I have to breathe again until they flow more easily. When they cease to come, I breathe again, and finally, I take a break to make çay (Turkish tea) and drink it while I breathe. People often ask me what I do to keep on writing. Am I ever at a loss for words? Often, I am these days and in these dark times. When the letters scrolled across my television screen, coldly breaking the news that 11 people were shot to death at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, I thought of my father’s...
Pondering Hatred
Why are we so deeply entrenched in our own ideas that we cannot understand others? This little fellow reminds me of myself today, as I ponder a quotation I heard the other day on news commentary. It isn’t the exact quotation, but the idea is simple enough: One cannot dispel ignorance with arrogance. This sounds easy enough, but our passion for our beliefs is strong. When we become heated in our arguments, filled with the zeal to convey our truths, we tend to disregard what the other person (or persons) is saying. We are too deeply entrenched in our own ideas to truly hear the thoughts of others. I watched a documentary recently made by a Pakistani Muslim woman journalist who came to this country to interview people and learn about white supremacy. Her interviews...
Recent Awards
Designed by Elegant Themes
