the poster on the wall (written while teaching in the Czech Republic)

the poster on the wall

So, I have this poster collage on my wall.  There are all these pictures of women.  In my eyes, painful women.  The kind who have this deep inset pain that they can’t seem to get rid of.  (Kind of like me-I guess that’s why I was drawn to them)  Anyway, on this collage I wrote, “Never forget the pain of others.”  I wanted it as a reminder to myself to never downplay, overlook, or dismiss others and their pain.  Tonight I realized that although well intended, my attempts at remembering have been futile.  I have forgotten. 

Here’s what happened tonight.  A group of girls and I went to see the movie “Desert Flower.”  It is about the life journey of Somalian supermodel.  (Although I won’t get into the movie here, it is amazing, heart wrenching, beautiful, and thought provoking.  Go and see it yourself).  Born in the desert, to a traditional Somalian family, she was circumcised when she was three years old.  Now, I have heard of female circumcision, but have never given it much thought.  Like most other horrific things and practices I hear about I never quite let them phase me.  Yes, I do get angry, upset, and dare I say, passionate.  Sometimes.  But usually at some point my daily life intervenes and I forget what I once was so angry about.  I forget the pain of others and begin to focus on my own “insurmountable” problems. 

I have wondered for a while now why it is that I feel somewhat deadened to horrifying things.  I have lived in a third world country and have seen poverty, pain, and suffering first hand.  Yet it doesn’t move me.  Dare I say that I have become used to it all?

I study history.  There is a lot of pain and suffering in history.  We humans work a number over on each other time and time again.  And slowly, after reading story after story they all become sort of a twisted normalcy.  It becomes a part of life.  And when tragic things become “just a part of life” I have forgotten how to feel.

But tonight all that changed.  I felt, truly felt the pain emanating from this girl.  There is this one scene in the movie where the little is being circumcised.  This young girl was the cutest thing in the world.  Hearing her screams reverberating throughout the theater, seeing the blood, and knowing what they were doing to her tore my heart.  Now I know the little girl is just an actress, and the blood isn’t real.  But it is for so many other girls.  They live everyday with a physical and emotional pain that I will never know.  No matter how much my own pain in life affects me, it can’t compare to their pain.  I have forgotten that.  Over the last few years I have elevated the importance of my own pain and in the process have de-elevated others.  And what has it left me with?  A deadened, unfeeling heart.

Now I may be a touch harsh on myself because I do care.  But then again I question, how much do I care?  How much do I really feel for others? 

I want to remember.  I want to live up to what my poster says.  I do not want to forget anymore.  I can’t forget anymore.  When I forget and make my pain more important than others, that’s when I lose who I am as a human being.  When humanity forgets, that’s when we stop being human.  But the question remains, how do I remember?  I’m not sure I know the answer.

So I have this poster on my wall.  It says, “Never forget the pain of others.”