Abortion is murder?

A law was passed in New York, "safeguarding rights laid out in Roe v. Wade and other court rulings, including a provision permitting late-term abortions when a woman's health is endangered". I believe this is a good thing. I believe this is NOT about "murdering babies".

I am Christian, from an Evangelical background, and I know many of my friends will have a knee-jerk reaction to this. So, please, friends, consider this.

I am a woman. I had two miscarriages, causing me deep emotional pain as well as physical pain. I am now 5 months pregnant and I thank God every day that my baby is alive and healthy so far. My point is, I know how it feels to have a baby grow inside of me.

I cannot believe, not for one second, that any woman would carry a baby in her womb for so long and then suddenly, out of the blue, decide to get rid of it for reasons of convenience. Serious health complications can and do arise later in pregnancy that leave a (heartbroken) woman no other choice but to abort. It's not only her life that can be in danger, it can be a fetus that is not viable. An acquaintance of mine found out during a second-term ultrasound scan that her baby's brain had failed to develop. We are not even talking about a brain problem that would result in severe physical or learning disabilities, but about an issue that would make the baby unable to survive once it is born. The lady had to abort. What else could she do?

Someone on Facebook shared a story about a fetus with an undeveloped heart which was detected late in the pregnancy. The mother was past 24 weeks, carrying a dying baby.

Babies can and do die in the womb for various reasons. What happens when a human dies? The body starts decaying. What happens if dead tissue starts decaying inside a person's (the mother's) body? You die of septic shock. So it is necessary to abort the dead fetus.

Those are the cases that make allowing late-term abortions necessary. I will not rejoice over abortions, but I am aware that in some cases, there is no other choice.

Why I went to see Black Panther twice

*Beware:  spoilers*

I was really excited about seeing Black Panther, and when I did, last Monday, I loved it.

I loved the issues it addressed such as, "Should a wealthy country shut itself in to protect its way of life, or should it help others?" It touched my heart for very obvious reasons - after all, I work among refugees.

I felt encouraged to see so many positive, funny, smart, powerful (in the good sense of the term, not in the political sense) Black male AND female characters. I loved seeing those female warriors kicking ass!

I loved seeing what *could* have happened if African countries had been able to benefit from their own natural resources and build national wealth from it, rather than having it robbed from them by colonialists.

I felt moved by the villain's storyline and felt sympathetic to a lot of his grievances (even though I disagreed with his methods to try and put things to rights). He was a very human and relatable character, I thought. And when he said, "the world will be reborn, and this time, WE'll be on top", I felt deeply the pain of a people who have been oppressed, enslaved, exploited and discriminated against, not to mention having seen their resources plundered (including by my own country) - and yet I felt a pang as I thought, "As long as someone is on top, it means someone is at the bottom". And so what the villain wanted to create, no matter what his initial motivations were, was another injustice.

I loved how, when Jabari leader M'Baku is offered the chance to take the Black Panther's power by taking the Heart-Shaped Herb, he chooses to help T'Challa instead, when he could so easily grab power for himself.

And especially, I loved hearing the king of Wakanda's speech to the United Nations at the end:

Wakanda will no longer watch from the shadows. We can not. We must not. We will work to be an example of how we, as brothers and sisters on this earth, should treat each other. Now, more than ever, the illusions of division threaten our very existence. We all know the truth: more connects us than separates us. But in times of crisis the wise build bridges, while the foolish build barriers. We must find a way to look after one another, as if we were one single tribe.

So I decided to take African asylum seekers to see it as a treat.

And then the debate begun as one of my colleagues argued that only taking African people see it was unfair. Well, yes and no. We are organizing special activities on Women's Day, for example... and you could argue that's unfair. But the reason we do it it to do something nice for people who have been oppressed one way or another. I thought this movie was uplifting and positive for the African community. We ended up going with 14 African people of both sexes (from Guinea, Sudan, Burkina Faso, Rwanda, Angola, Senegal), one Iraqi guy and a young Albanian girl. They loved the film. They giggled when T'Challa freezes upon seeing his ex-girlfriend Nakia. They roared with laughter when Shuri points to T'Challa's sandals, asking, "What are those???" They loved it when Agent Ross tries some whitesplaining on M'Baku, the Jabari leader, who proceeds to silence him by barking at him, together with his guards. They even applauded when the movie ended.

On the way back, I was driving the van and I remained silent. I could have told them why I took them to see this film. I could have told them what I loved about it, what my favourite moments were. But I decided not to. Because it was their film, their moment. I wanted to give them ownership of it and not rob it from them by putting my white words and emotions on their experience.

So I listened to them chat excitedly about it, discussing which countries and tribes inspired the costumes. And then, one of the guys said, "That was good." His friend approved, "Yeah, that was good". And in that moment, I felt filled with joy, as when two other guys came up to me before going back to their rooms, saying, "Thank you for taking us. It was your idea, thank you."

#OneTribe

Wake up.

I have been saying for a while now that the rise of fascism worries me. When I say this, friends and relatives look at with a patronizing smile and I can tell they think I'm over-reacting.

Yet, recent events show that there is real cause for concern. What happened in Charleston is a prime example. A Christian author who came as part of a counter protest writes this:

"Many came dressed in white shirts and khaki pants, reminding me of office workers or WalMart employees. Many wore helmets and carried hand-made shields. They looked like they came expecting to fight, threaten, and intimidate. Some came in paramilitary garb, heavily armed."

In the US, White supremacists are uniting in an organized way, expressing their ideas proudly, and coming to demonstrations armed and ready to fight. In Europe, they are openly declaring themselves; they organize boot camps to train; and raise funds to launch a boat whose sole purpose is to send refugees back where they came from.

I you wonder what you would have done during the rise of Nazism in Germany, YOU ARE DOING IT RIGHT NOW. 

Are you looking for scapegoats for everything you feel is wrong in today's society? In the 1930s, it was Jews, today it's refugees, Muslims, Blacks, Hispanics, oh and Jews too for good measure. 

Are you just living your lives in indifference? Do you shrug it off or turn a blind eye?

Or do you speak out, do you extend to hand of friendship to people who are different to you, do you educate yourself?

If you care about people's lives, if you strive to love and accept people no matter where they come from, please wake up. This is happening.

WAKE UP. Fascism is on the rise and human lives are at stake. Wake up.

Islam - no way out?

Sometimes I hear a sentence that just startles me and makes me want to scream in frustration. Maybe that makes me a "snowflake", but there are things that I cannot let pass.

Recently, a Christian friend and I were discussing Islam and I explained someone I know was contemplating converting to Islam. I saw it as a positive, because the lady in question came from an atheist background and embarked on a spiritual search. My friend, however, did not see it quite in the same way.

"I wonder if she realises that once converted to Islam, she has no way out - all schools of sharia law prescribe either imprisonment or death for apostasy".

My initial reaction was to want to bang my head against the wall. There are so many things that are wrong with this statement I don't even know where to start...

First and foremost, we live in Belgium, where religious freedoms are protected by law: people may not only choose their religion, but change it if they wish. This means if my friend became a Muslim, she could change her mind afterwards. Moreover, if her Muslim friends are open-minded, they will respect her choice either way. I personally know a young girl who converted to Christiniaty from a Muslim background, and her family respected and supported her choice.

I love and respect the Muslims I've come to know. I feel blessed to count them as friends, and I get sad and angry when people tar them all with the same brush. When they ask me about my faith I always tell them I am a Christian. I have never felt any hostility from them, quite the opposite. They are some of the most respectful and hospitable people I have ever met. In addition, I have great respect for their piety. Who among us Christians prays 5 times a day, or fasts for 40 days, or learns significant portions of Scripture by heart? Their devotion is an inspiration. Of course, this doesn't mean I want to become a Muslim myself - I have explained before how and why I chose to follow Jesus.

"All schools of sharia law prescribe either imprisonment or death for apostasy" is a blanket statement that fails to consider the diversity that exists within Islam. True, some fringes of Islam want to impose sharia law throughout the world, which includes severe punishment for apostasy. But the key words here are "some fringes". Not all Muslims are Wahhabi - the fundamentalist, often violent branch of Islam who want to "spread purified Islam through the world, both Muslim and non-Muslim", only making up 0.5% of the global Muslim population (source: Wikipedia). There is a lot of diversity in Muslim doctrine (just like there are many branches of Christianity), from the most fundamentalist to the most progressive, and from decidedly violent to completely non-violent.

Finally, I think such talk about Islam goes against the teachings of Jesus. Equating the whole of Islam with violent fundamentalism is a narrative that, sadly, I have heard in some churches. In fact, I used to believe it… It presents Islam as a frightful threat, and Muslims as would-be invaders who want to take over the world, by violent means if necessary. As I’ve outline above, not only is it untrue, but it also has a perverse effect. It instils fears and therefore hostility within the hearts of Christians. How can we be effective witnesses of Christ if we feel fear and hostility towards a whole group of people? How can we love them as ourselves if we see them as dangerous enemies? Some Christians’ fear of Muslims is already turning to hatred, and politicians are using it to their advantage. Instead of welcoming the stranger as the Bible commands, many self-professing Christians openly reject them and even claim the need to protect ‘Christendom’ from the ‘Muslim invasion’, by force if necessary… while Christ teaches us that His Kingdom is not of this world anyway.

When confronted to a teaching in church, I try to look at the fruit that teaching produces. Does it bring love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness? Or does it instil fear, hatred, selfishness, conflict and discord? Ask yourself this.

 

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.

A time of violence and grief

I just switched on the news, and there it was. Another attack from "jihadists", this time targeting a church and murdering a priest. Violence goes on and on (and if we take off our Western-centered glasses for a second, we'll realise such attacks on Christians is nothing new at all).

I feel like my arms and legs have been cut off.

I want to believe in love, peace, and this crazy idea that we can all live together as the human brothers and sisters that we are. Yet, such horrendous acts scream at me that it cannot be. That humans are always going to tear each other apart. That I'd better give up on hope and love and peace. That I should be afraid of Muslims - afraid of the men and women and children I look after at the centre for asylum seekers and of the many other Muslims who live in my country. That I should hide away from them, be wary of them, push them out of my life and even out of my country. Just in case.

I don't want to listen to the screams of terrorism. I don't want to stop loving the people I work with. I don't want terrorism to colour my dealings with the Muslims I come across.

Let us not forget that Daesh aims to divide us, to create a rift between Muslims and the Western world. Let us not allow them to create that rift. Let us not allow them to divide us. I have said it before and I will say it again: the majority of Muslims are as appalled as we are. Besides, in Daesh-controlled territories, they are targeted too. Blaming Muslims and rejecting them will only create more tension, more hatred, and more potential terrorists. This is why I want to love Muslims and offer them my friendship: because I believe this is the only way we can resist a spiral of hatred and violence. To me, this is the only sustainable weapon we have against terrorism.

If you are grieving for Father Jacques Hamel, do not forget what he stood for: he was a Christian, he believed in Jesus Christ. And Jesus Christ asked us to love our enemie and pray for them. Is it hard? Yes, it is. It is hard, painful, heart-wrenching, and dangerous. But this is what Jesus asks, and this is what Jesus did. He was brutally murdered, yet he prayed for his murderers. Jesus gave his life out of love for his enemies.

If you are a Christian, don't forget this: we are supposed to fight hate with love, persecution with prayer, evil with good. And if you are not a Christian, remember all that Father Jacques Hamel stood for, all he believed in. He would not want you to respond with hatred and vengeance.

The Bible, homosexuality, and abomination

Last summer, I described how my beliefs about homosexuality had changed over time.

In Biblical times, the main purpose of couples was to produce offspring to ensure the continuity of the family line and the perennity of the group. If any people felt love and attraction towards the same sex, they probably weren't encouraged to form a lasting bond, as it would have been of little social use. Much more visible, however, would have been the sexual abuse of young boys - and therefore, it would have been vigorously condemned by anyone with a strong sense of morality. So, if Bible authors were familiar with abusive homosexual behaviour, but not with committed, faithful same-sex relationships, they would have called it wrong and immoral. This notion has been brought forward before by scholars and Christian LGBT advocates, and they've argued the case much more convincingly than I can. But recently, something unexpected came to support this theory for me.

I never thought that working in a centre for asylum seekers would help me better grasp the issue of homosexuality, and why it seems, on the surface, to be so adamantly condemned in Scripture. Yet, meeting people from different cultures throws a very interesting light on the morality of this issue.

In our center, we have been holding discussion panels about life in Belgium, and mentioning things such as gender equality, freedom of religion, and LGBT rights. The question of gay marriage got a variety of responses. Many people, including those coming from a Muslim background, were very matter-of-fact about it, saying that we all need to respect the life choices of other people. Some people from Africa got their Bibles out and emphatically argued that homosexuality was inherently sinful. 

But what I found particularly interesting was this: many of our residents from Afghanistan or Iraq, when confronted to Western acceptance of homosexuality, state dryly that there is no such thing in their country. Some Afghans even protested, "Pedophilia is illegal where we come from!". Aghast that they would make such a comparison, I dug further. They explained to me that in Afghanistan, there is no such thing as two men loving each other the way a man and his wife do (or at least, they're not aware of it). What they have often witnessed, however, is the abuse of young boys by older men, not only back home, but also during their journey to Europe. Hence the way they recoil from the very mention of homosexuality, and the way they were quick to state that such things were illegal. Of course, we explained to them that pedophilia is illegal (and immoral) in Europe too, and that being attracted to someone of the same sex is totally different from child abuse. But I find their comments and reactions very enlightening. If the only type of homosexual relationship you'd ever witnessed was one of abuse and control, driven by lust and the desire to overpower the other person, rather than committed, loving relationships, you'd find the practice despicable, no doubt. You would be very likely to call it... an abomination. Wouldn't you?

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.

Salah: prayer.

On Friday, Salah Abdeslam, one of the terrorists responsible for the Paris attacks, was arrested in Brussels. He had been on the run for several months.

When I heard he had been captured, I felt relief - relief that a dangerous individual is now in the hands of the police, and is no longer a threat. My heart goes out to all those who have lost loved ones in the attacks. I am glad that justice will be done and that Salah will be held accountable for what he did.

However, I have no urge for violent retaliation towards him. First, because I don't want to sink down to hatred and violence. Then, because I have that crazy notion that he is not all that different from me: Salah Abdeslam is a human being.

It reminds me of the post about Hitler  holding a little girl's hand that floated around the internet a while ago. Here is an extract:

"Yeah. It’s fucking scary [the picture]. It really is. Do you know why?

It’s because you’re seeing that he wasn’t, in fact, a monster. You’re seeing in this picture that he was a man. He was a man, and that’s really the saddest part of it all.

[...] The number one mistake anyone could ever make in history is making the assumption that only inhuman monsters are capable of doing terrible things.

Stop dehumanizing Hitler just so you can reassure yourself that “normal” humans aren’t capable of doing bad things."

This is true of Hitler, and this is true of Salah Abdeslam. Evil is part of human nature. I am not saying it's a good thing at all - I am appalled and scared at the evil I see in human beings (including in myself). I am just saying that we should face up to this: as human beings, we are all capable of terrible evil. And sometimes, there are reasons why people fall into evil.

Before I go any further, let me be 100% clear: I do not condone terrorism and violence, and I grieve at destroyed lives. I do not seek excuses for those who engage in such acts. I am; however, willing to try and understand why they do.

If I had been born a second- or third-generation Muslim immigrant, torn between two cultures; if to most white people I had never been anything but "the Arab", or even the "fucking Arab", if I had been denied job opportunities on that ground alone... if I had felt despised and rejected by the society in which I lived, and then someone had come along and told me, "Come, sister, you will be respected and valued with us. You will be part of something great. You will be a hero. Others will no understand why you do it, but you will accomplish something great for God." Would I have believed it? Would I have been caught up in the lie and violence? I hope not, but maybe I would have. I do not ask that we excuse them, only that we understand why young people become violent radicals - and be willing to change our own behaviour so we don't become part of the problem too.

I also believe that all humans can change if they decide to do so. No one has to remain a monster. More than that, I believe that in Jesus, the opportunity is given to everyone to turn themselves around ("repent") and receive God's transforming love. In fact, this is why I am strongly against the death penalty: when you kill someone, you rob them of the chance to change and become a better person, forever.

Salah was supposed to blow himself up but backed out. It could be self-preservation kicking in, it could be something else. He may have had second thoughts about killing other people. In any case, I am glad he did not blow himself up. He is apparently cooperating with the police, so I hope this will help further dismantle the terrorist network he was a part of. I also hope he will feel genuine remorse for his actions.
 
You see, when I heard Salah Abdeslam had been arrested, the first thing that popped into my head was to pray for him. Pray for a fair trial, pray that he won't become the number one scapegoat of a much larger problem. And pray that the grace of God may touch his heart and transform it for good, somehow.

In Arabic, Salah means "prayer". And so I pray that this young man's life may be radically changed and become a true prayer - a testimony of a changed life.

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?"