If I am not part of the solution, I am part of the problem.

When Trump first announced he was running as a candidate for the Republican party, I dismissed it as a joke. Then, as months passed, mockery gave way to disbelief, then to anger, frustration and indignation. How could such racism, bigotry, and misoginy appeal to so many people? How could someone whose speeches had no substance and no content convince voters? 

I cried and shouted and poured contempt on Trump supporters, and on all those who supported fascist politicians. I despised them for their perceived stupidity and bigotry and for their hatred. I felt proud that I was "not like them" (Parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, anyone?).

Tonight, I read this article, and it dawned on me that like any other story, it's not all simple; it's not all black and white. It's not just stubborn Fundies. It's also people who have been left behind by an elitist system, and felt more support was given to minorities than to them. And they have been deceived into believing Trump will fix that. (Or that a fascist European politician will fix that.)

And suddenly it dawned on me. I cannot humilate them into changing their minds. I cannot bully them into behaving like decent human beings. I cannot even try to "educate" them because by doing this, I am only arrogantly putting myself above them. Humiliating and despising them will only reinforce the problem. 

The only helpful, Jesus-like thing I can do is the same thing I have been doing for Muslims in my centre for asylum seekers, despite my initial fears and misgivings about Muslims: love them. Reach out to them. Listen to them. Seek to understand them. Show them empathy.

So this is where I want to start. Holy Spirit, enable me, because I cannot do this on my own.

I want to follow Jesus, and I foolishly believe love will save the world. You may tell me I am a fucking fool. You're most probably right.

Let us fight terrorism

22 March 2016. I was having breakfast when I heard the news. Terrorists had struck Brussels.

I felt immense grief. My heart went out to victims and their families. I have no idea how such pain and terror must feel.

All the same, I remember that this pain and terror is part of daily life for millions of human beings in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan or Yemen. My heart grieves for those suffering every day all around the world.

And I feel overwhelmed by the same fear and grief than after the Paris attacks: fear for Muslims, as Daesh tries to create a rift between them and the rest of the Western population.  

Just as I did in November, I refuse to be consumed by fear, hostility and hate, and more than ever, I stand by my decision to love my Muslim brothers and sisters and to pray for my enemies. 

I choose love. I choose to fight terrorism in my own way. Would you join me? 

Terrorism, by its very definition, aims to terrorize us, and, in the more specific case of Daesh, to drive us apart from each other through fear, hostility, hate and rejection. If we're scared, the terrorists have won. And if we are overcome by fear and hatred for those who are Muslims, for refugees and strangers, they have won, too. So here is my plan to fight terrorists:

1. Let's not give into fear. Let's not allow them ruin our lives. We will all die, my friends, but, contrary to people in the Middle East, we are very unlikely to die in a terrorist attack. So let's not be afraid to go out, travel, go to big cities such as Brussels, Paris or London. Let's carry on with our lives and enjoy our freedom.

2. Let's not give in to hatred. Let's reach out to the other, the stranger. Let's welcome everyone without prejudice, whatever their nationality, ethnicity, religion; whether they have been living among us for decades or whether they have just arrived as immigrants.

3. Let's build relationships. If we have friends who are from another culture (even - gasp! - Muslims), let's spend time with them, deepen our friendship. Let's ask them about their culture, their passions, their values. We live in a multicultural society: they are among us. They're our neighbours, our colleagues, our local shopkeepers. They sit next to us on public transport. So if we don't know them, let's get to know them! Let's say hello; let's invite them for coffee, for a meal or for a movie.
 
4. Let's get informed. Let's not believe everything we see in the media (especially social media). Let's check information - check sources. Let's read serious articles and books about issues that concern us. Let's talk to people who are insiders and know their stuff: ask Muslims about their faith. If we want to know about refugees, let's ask the refugees and people who work with them (ask me about my work! I love to talk about it. What would you like to know?).
 
5. Let's celebrate diversity - the human race is made up of so many beautifully different people!

6. If we are believers, let's pray. Let's pray for peace, for love, and for unity; let's pray for compassion and mutual understanding. Let's pray for God's Kingdom to come - the Kingdom of reconciliation that Jesus came to bring.

I love this picture of my two friends, Lexi and Sara, because to me it represents friendship beyond our differences. My hope and prayer is that events such as the Paris and Brussels attacks will bring people together, not drive them apart.

Facebook baby

"Dear Mum,

I turn 18 today. I am now, supposedly, an adult. From now on, I am considered capable of handling myself and responsible for my own actions. I can create my own life; I am a blank slate.

Except I am not. I already have 18 years of digital history attached to my persona. Granted, I have largely contributed to it in the last 8 years or so. But before that, Mum, it was your doing, and I had no say in the matter.

I understand how your heart glowed and beat with overwhelming joy as you first held me in your arms, a tiny, helpless, crumpled little creature. I understand you earnestly thought I was the most beautiful thing ever to behold, and that the world ought to see me and wonder. I understand your pride as I took my first steps, said my first word, drew my first scribble and rode my first bike. It's only natural you wanted to take pictures of all those precious moments so we could, as a family, treasure the memories in the years to come.

I even understand you needed to vent your frustration when I couldn't sleep, and when I took ages to be out of nappies (especially at night), and when I started talking back to you, when I wouldn't work in school, and when you thought my teacher was a bully.

But Mum, did you really need to post all of that online? 

The first 18 years of my life have been more recorded and documented than a scientific experiment, and been made as public as a reality show. Today, Mum, I feel my personal life and history are not my own: they're public property for everyone to see.

I know you did it because you love me and because you're so, so proud of me. But did you ever stop to think how I'd feel about it later?

Do you remember the embarrassement you felt when Grandma showed your baby pictures to a flock of cooing friends, or worst, to your first boyfriend? I feel that embarrassement multiplied by your 359 Facebook friends and your 874 Instagram followers. I have no privacy.

You were an adult when you registered on social media. You made a choice regarding your own privacy, and you chose to be present online. You chose what you would share. You had heard that anything you posted was no longer private, but public. You made that choice for yourself and there is nothing wrong with that because it was your own life, your own choice.

But Mum, you never asked my 3-hour-old self whether I wanted to be on Facebook.

How do I handle my digital footprint now, the one I never chose to have?"

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.

Social media, baby pictures, and the loss of privacy

Apparently, an Australien mother was told off by her friends for drowning their newsfeed with her baby's photos.

On the one hand, I stand with the mother's right to post whatever she pleases on Facebook. That is the beauty of social media: the freedom to express ourselves (as long as we don't promote hate or illegal activities, but that's another topic). I am pretty sure some of my friends get bored with the constant stream of articles on social justice and/or theology I keep posting. They always have the option to turn off notifications from my profile if it really annoys them, after all.

On the other hand, personally, I wouldn't want to post my child's pictures on Facebook (if I had a child) for several reasons.

1. All pictures you post to Facebook no longer belong to you, but to Facebook. Whilst I don't mind too much about pictures of myself no longer being mine, I would object to pictures of my child becoming property of a big corporation.

2. Privacy, part one: no matter how high my privacy settings are, there is always a chance that someone I don't know will see pictures of my child. And that unknown person could be harmless... or not.

3. Privacy, part two: once posted online, anyone on my friends' list (or not on my friends' list, depending on privacy settings or dangers of hacking, etc) could potentially share my child's pictures. I don't like the idea of my child's pictures floating around somewhere in the dark world of the internet.

4. Privacy, part three: I have come to terms with the fact that anything I post online is no longer private as such, but public - out there for all the world to see and read. I accept that as part and parcel of the joy of staying in touch with friends overseas and sharing ideas with people all over the globe. If it concerns only me and my own image, fine. But I don't want to plaster my child's face all over Facebook before he or she is even old enough to understand this, let alone consent to it. Remember when you begged your Mum not to show your first girlfriend/boyfriend those embarrassing baby pictures in the family album? Imagine if those embarrassing photos had been there for all of Mum's 426 friends to see, share and comment. Awakward, much? Not sure my kids would appreciate having about as little privacy as a pop star when they grow up.

Everyone needs their secret garden; everyone should be able to choose what they keep to themselves and what they make public, including photos.