Cuddles: yes, please

I came across this video today. It's about professional cuddlers. Sounds plain weird, right?

Well, as it happens, this strikes a chord with me.

I have a complicated relationship with physical touch. I often rant about how much I dislike the Belgian and French custom of kissing people on the cheek as a way of greeting them. I feel deeply uncomfortable having to kiss people I'm not close to. At the same time, I am a very affectionate person. As a little girl, I received lots of cuddles from my Mum. Often, I would sneak into bed with her after Dad had gone to work. Mum often gave me back rubs, stroked my hands and arms with her fingertips, or just held me close. I transferred such affectionate gestures in my romantic relationships, and even in my close friendships - I once gave a friend a foot massage on the night before her wedding to help her de-stress. Basically, I love hugs, cuddles and massages.

It seems pretty straighforward, right? I like physical touch from people I love and not from strangers. Well, actually, it's not that simple. Although I recoil from having to kiss distant aunts or cousins (or shop customers), I have been known to let strangers touch me and be quite happy about it. And children are always welcome to touch me - I let them cuddle me, brush my hair and even paint my face. It seems the basic issue is whether I feel comfortable around the person touching me. Obviously, this is the case for close friends and family, but sometimes, a stranger can just feel safe to me.

During what I refer to as my wild years (when I went out partying and drinking during an episode of depression), I received physical affection from a stranger with immense gratitude. I was very vulnerable at the time. I was struggling to recover from a hurtful breakup, I was away from my family and from my best friend. There were no cuddles in my life at the time. I went out with a friend, and we met a couple of gay men. My friend hooked up with a guy, and he gave her a back rub. I complained that I would like one too, so one of the gay men stood up behind me and gave me one. Just like that. Later on that evening, he held me and cuddled me. If he had been straight, I wouldn't have relaxed because I would have thought he was after something more. As it wasn't the case, I just enjoyed the physical affection I felt so deprived of. It was a beautiful thing that man did for me. His name was Lewis; I never forgot him.

This brings me back to the video. As human beings, we are physical creatures. We need touch. Yet, we live in a world where it can be increasingly difficult to receive the physical affection we crave, except in the context of a romantic or sexual relationship. Still during my wild years, I let a guy I'd met snog me in a club because he was holding me close to him. I remember thinking, "If this is the price to pay to get a hug, so be it." How sad is it that we have to put up with things we don't want in an attempt to fulfil a deep human need? More recently, my Grandma shared with me what she read in a book about palliative care: that elderly people long to be touched, too. They need physical affection as much as the rest of us, but are often denied it, especially if they are single or widowed. (I often hug my Grandma or hold her hand.)

We need safe people and safe places for cuddles. Not everyone will need or be comfortable with the same kind of touch. Yet, be it a hand squeeze or an all-embracing hug, it can really put a soothing balm on a lonely heart. If you can provide that act of kindness for someone, great. If not, maybe professional cuddlers can help.

Never a dull moment...

Yesterday was fun. In the morning, I had to go around and check room occupancy. Most residents offered me food (which I had to turn down, except once as the man wouldn't let me leave without having some of his tomato and onion scrambled eggs) and one made me a cup of shockingly sweet tea. At some point, I sat on the floor in a corridor to check which rooms I hadn't seen yet - and someone came out and gave me a chair.

I left work on time (for once) after a busy day, singing to myself in the car. As I drove into my village (15 minutes away from the asylum centre), I did a double take. Standing at the crossroads were a dozen residents from my centre. Rather puzzled, I parked the car and walked up to them.

Turns out they were coming back from the train station and had taken the wrong bus. "It's all Mr Abib's* fault", they said, laughing. "He said we had to get on that bus!" There were men, as well as a mother with her two young children. Bear in mind the cold weather is settling now, and it was dark and freezing. I picked up my phone and called the centre, who sent someone with the minibus to pick them up. I waited with them, and phoned Nicholas to warn him I'd be late - but his phone was off. So the residents started asking me about him. "What time does your husband get back from work?" When I explained we had to go buy some food, one of them looked a little puzzled. "Does your husband need to tell you what to buy?" "No, we go shopping together." This earned Nicholas a round of applause, so I added, "He also cooks for me most of the time, you know!" Second round of applause.

Our residents are fun.

(*Name changed for privacy reasons)

A message to all Muslims

In the light of the crimes of Daesh, of the Paris attacks, and of the raised alert levels in Brussels, I want to send a clear message to all Muslims in the world:

My dear brothers and sisters, I love you.

This is not a mushy feeling. This is a conscious choice.

I know that the overwhelming majority of you are NOT terrorists and have no wish to hurt anyone. You are my human brothers and sisters. Each of you has a mother and a father. Each of you needs love and acceptance. Each of you cries when you hurt. Each of you smiles when you're happy.

We are all human. We are the same. I will not pretend you are all saints. But there again, I will not pretend I am a saint, either.

Some of you are kind, some of you are less kind. Some of you are hard-working and some of you are lazy. Some of you are educated, some of you are not. Some of you are short-tempered or even aggressive (hey, you know what? I can be awfully short-tempered and aggressive, sometimes). Some of you are meek and soft-spoken. Some of you are articulate and vocal to speak up for others. Some of you are incredibly honest, some of you lie.

Guess what? We're the same. I'm the same. Whether we are Muslims or Christians or whatever else, we are all human. We all have our faults and qualities. We all have things we feel proud of and some we feel ashamed of. 

We are all human.

I am making a conscious decision to love you. Because I know the minute I start hating you and feeling scared of you, the terrorists will have won me over. They will have turned my heart to hate and fear. They will have divided us.

I refuse to let them win. I refuse to let them take over my heart. I refuse to let them divide us all, when we are all humans.

I love you. It will not always be easy to love you - after all, it's never easy to love people, whoever they are. People can be damn annoying. People are not perfect. But I will strive to show you kindness always.

Love wins. Love trumps fear.

 My friends Sara and Lexi.

I'm not a serious blogger.

I think it's time I made a confession.

I'm not a very good blogger. I'm not very serious about my blogging.

I always seem to have an opinion on whatever world event is ripping the world apart. And because the Internet is such a great tool, I feel obliged to share it with the world. Only, if I am totaly honest, I'm not sure my opinion is worth that much. I don't necessarily research the issues I am blogging about. Most of the time, I have heard about it on the news and read a few articles and opinions online. If I'm very keen, I may have read a serious newspaper article or two. You know, real paper ones. Mostly, I will have had some kind of knee-jerk reaction to some other people's opinion that I deem unloving or closed-minded.

Because you know, I am a dumb idealist at heart. I dream and hope for a world where we can all live together in peace and harmony. And I strive to follow Jesus, and he said an awful lot of things about loving your neighbour, even loving your enemies, showing compassion and helping those and need. And he loves me, and helped me when I was in deep shit. So, I guess my naive idealism and my faith colour a lot of what I post. I have that silly notion that maybe if I join my voice to those who preach peace and love and forgiveness, maybe together we can counter voices of hate and make a tiny contribution to a better world.

So I write half-baked, not-so-well-informed, idealistic opinions online.

I guess that doesn't make me a very serious blogger, now, does it?

Ah well. Now you're warned.

No French flag for me.

I did not change my profile picture to the Facebook French flag thing, and here is why.

I appreciate the sentiment behind it - stand in sympathy with the French people and the victims. Which is why I put up the Eiffel tower/peace sign picture. And I don't criticize people who chose the French flag profile, either.

But using a national flag to represent this sentiment does not sit well with me. The attackers apparently said things like, "Blame your president" and "This is for the people of Syria". France is taking part in fighting ISIS. French president François Hollande has called the Paris attacks an "act of war" committed by a "terrorist army" - worryingly echoing the words of former predident Bush after 9/11. Now, before you berate me, I do not condone terrorism as a response to military attacks - but equally, I do not condone military attacks as a response to terrorism. Military attacks make too many innocent victims, and fertilize the soil in which extremism grows. Military attacks, in my opinion, do not solve anything, but make everything worse. But then, I'm not a diplomat, and I never studied international politics, so I might be blinded by idealism - and this is not me being sarcastic, this is me being honest.

Moreover, I am uncomfortable with any ideology of "nations". I am uncomfortable with the fact that I have more rights in my country than asylum seekers do, simply because I was born in the right place. I did not earn those rights, and they are denied to people who need them simply because they have the wrong nationality. I don't like the idea of borders. At the same time, I am grateful to live in a place where I enjoy freedom of speech (one of the things radical Islamic terrorists stand against), so maybe I just want my cake and eat it too.

The French flag thing is also too reminiscent of the French national party, which preaches national pride and patriotism, and has a racist ideology. People who will no doubt benefit from the Paris attacks, spout out nationalistic, islamophobic and anti-migrants rethoric - "French people first!", by which they mean only white people, of course, definitely not migrants, not second- or third-generation migrants, not Jews...

Finally, as has been pointed out, and without minimizing the suffering of the victims and their families or the trauma France are going through, the profile French flag thing is incredibly Eurocentric. Such attacks happen regularly in countries such as Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, or Pakistan - and Facebook didn't offer us the option to change our profile picture to their flag. Yet their pain and trauma is the same as ours... only, it doesn't feel so close, does it? They live far from us, they look and live differently. I am pointing at myself too: I felt more shocked by the Paris attack than by the Beirut one. Only later did I realise that I was being biaised in favour of my own culture.

I mourn with the victims' loved ones. But I think this wasn't an just attack on France... this was an attack on humanity. I will mourn and pray... for our whole world.

Walking on in the midst of chaos

I was in my car when I heard about the Paris attacks. I felt drained by so much senseless violence and hatred - again.

My first thought was for the victims of this barbarity, and the horrendous pain an shock their loved ones must have felt.Then, I felt overwhelmed by fear for my Muslim neighbours living in the West. Not fear of them; fear for them. They already face bullying, verbal and physical aggression solely because they're Muslims, even though the vast majority of them do not condone terrorism in any way. I fear for their safety and well-being as my human brothers and sisters. And if they meet hostility, hatred and abuse everywhere, how can they live peacefully among us? In fact, this seems to be precisely what ISIS is hoping to achieve. 

"The Paris attacks could spark new waves of Islamophobia in France and beyond — and with it fear of the refugees pouring into Europe from Syria and other countries. This is exactly what ISIS wants; the group has vowed to make it impossible for Muslims to exist peacefully in the West." ISIS wants to force Muslims in the West to choose a camp in the new worldwide war they are hoping to trigger. ISIS wants Muslims to feel alienated and harrassed so they will only have one side to turn to: radicalism.

I am also scared that Western governments will respond with more military strikes. Yet, what good has military involvement done in the past? After 9/11, the US military invaded Afghanistan and Irak. More than 10 years have passed and the Middle East has not been made more stable and safer. It's more volatile than ever. Moreover, the Paris attackers made it clear that they wanted to punish France for its strikes on Syria. Of course, I do not condone terrorism as a response to military attacks - but equally, I do not condone military attacks as a response to terrorism. Violence only breeds violence. Any person who is killed in a military strike is someone's son, someone's brother, someone's father - and if his loved ones cannot forgive, revenge is the way they will seek. So what should we do?

I don't know. I really don't. I feel at loss, and I wish I had an easy answer. 

As a Christian, I turn to Jesus in such times of grief and chaos. 

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." Matthew 5:9

"But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them.  Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.  Do to others as you would have them do to you.
 
[...] Love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful." Luke 6:27-31, 35-36.

That's a tall order. Yet I cannot help but think it's the best way to combat violence. I feel that as Christians especially, we have a responsibility to be welcoming and loving to our Muslims neighbour. When so many already blame the Muslim community as a whole and shower them with hostility, if we, followers of Jesus, do not show the way of love, pleace and forgiveness, who will?

However, I am keenly aware that it's very easy for me to preach peace and forgiveness. I have lost no one. How would I feel if my mother, my brother, my friend and/or my significant other had been killed or grieviously wounded? Would I be able to forgive and to avoid revenge, or would I want "all Muslims dead"? It's easy to be "kind" and "loving" when I was not directly affected. I can only hope and pray I would have that much grace in my heart.

Yet, choosing the way of violent retaliation and fear will only play into the terrorists' hand. If we don't want them to win, walking unafraid and in love is the best way to counter them.

So this is what I will strive to do: walk in love in the midst of chaos, unafraid - and trusting that my God, on the cross, has already played his hand. His move of sacrificial love is what will ultimately defeat evil, violence, and death.

"We cannot take in all the misery of the world!"

You may or may not know that since 1 October 2015, I have been working in a Red Cross centre for asylum seekers. This is a job that suits my values and beliefs, and I view it as a great and challenging opportunity to serve God and others, as a Christian.

However, when I mention my work, there is a little sentence that I hear far too often and that really gets on my nerves.
 
"We cannot take in all the misery of the world!"

Nobody is asking us to take in all the misery of the world. According to recent statistics, 27,000 people registered as asylum seekers in Belgium. This is hardly "all the misery in the world" - not even close. If all conflict and poverty victims really came to Europe, we'd have billions to cope with, not thousands.

Which brings me to my second point. We may be facing an economic crisis, but we are still part of a privileged minority. None of us have to wonder where our next meal will come from, or where we will sleep tonight. We don't have to fear bombing, beheading, or persecution because of our ideas, faith or lifestyle. We enjoy huge amounts of freedom, and we have more than we need. Moreover, the only reason we have that privilege is that we were born in the right place. We did nothing to deserve it. So how dare we reject those who are less fortunate in that respect?

Not all people currently seeking asylum in Belgium will stay. Some decide to go back home when they realise what appalling conditions they'll have to live in for an undetermined period of time (have you ever visited a refugee camp?) Others won't get refugee status - criteria are strict and the procedure itself is complex. Others still will only be granted a subsidiary protection that's limited in time - if the situation in their country gets better, they will be asked to leave Europe.

Some, however, will stay. They will be workers and consumers, enabling our economy to keep going. They will bring their skills (many residents in my centre are engineers). They will be our neighbours, our doctors, or our shopkeepers. I hope they will be our friends, but that all depends on how we welcome them. If we treat them with wariness and hostility, how can they become integrated in our society?

During World War 2, many Belgians fled the country for fear of the Germans. My grandmother recalls that many French citizens regarded Belgian refugees with hostility, with some villages putting up signs that said, "No water for Belgians". How short our memory is!

Finally, if we don't welcome them, what should we do? Should we let them die on our doorstep? They're human beings. They're all somebody's son or daughter. They're fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. Would you let your mother or your brother die on your doorstep because you worry there might not be enough room inside for them?

If you have a better solution, a human and compassionate alternative, we are all ears.