I Cannot Share a Body of a Child.

I am a mother and this has changed me. When I see a child hurt or worse... dead, I see that child as my child. When I see the mother grieving over the body of her child I feel her pain. It does not matter if she is black or white. Muslim or Christian. My neighbour or a complete stranger. I feel her pain deeply. I think many mothers feel this even if they are like me and usually guard their emotions closely.

During the conflict in Gaza (I say Gaza because majority of deaths on both sides are happening there) I have been seeing things most people would not see in their worst nightmares. I have been scanning the news like a hawk hoping for an end to the misery. I have been reading news from both sides of the media through outlets like, NBC, RT and the ABC in an effort to keep my views balanced but I can't help myself from becoming passionate. This is not about who is wrong or right but rather about the amount of civilians killed in the conflict.

When the number of those killed surpassed 1000 something changed in me. It was no longer a small conflict but something ending the lives of many innocent people. 1000 is a number I could relate to. 1000 is the number of people that went to my high school. Imagining if all those people were killed and the effect it would have on the people in my community sent a shiver down my body. I could relate.

Protests in Brisbane

When the number of deaths was projected to be more than 1500 due to the shelling, lack of healthcare and power shortages causing hospital equipment to no longer work. I could relate. That was the number of people in Brisbane who walked in protest, calling for an end to the conflict. I remember how the crowd marched down the street, stretching more than a block. I imagined if we had all been killed and the feeling of devastation overwhelmed me.

But an unknown feeling came over me when images of children blown to pieces appeared on my Facebook newsfeed. Something inside of me, a maternal instinct perhaps, made the biggest change in me yet. I saw the child as my own. The mother mourning a child was myself mourning that child and the way I related took a whole new level. If I was feeling this way then other mothers would be feeling a similar feeling when viewing these images.
After the bombing of a UN school I felt a new feeling. The feeling of that of a protective mother. I imagined that the families had taken their children to the only place that thought they would be safe. I had imagined the families huddled together protecting their most precious things on earth, their children. That is what any mother would do. Protect their children at all cost. That is why my emotion changed from despair to anger. I became mother to those children. I felt the need to protect them and I was angry that someone had bombed that place, the only place, where I felt they could be safe.

After the bombing I thought I would see many of my friends protesting on my newsfeed but I was wrong. It was't about who was fighting who, but rather that innocent children sheltering in fear and their mothers protecting the children at any cost had been targeted and killed. I was angry at the act and those responsible for it regardless who they were. I was not falling for the justification or the suggestion of human shields. This was a UN shelter and my stomach told me mothers always take their children to the safest place they know.

Regardless, a mother protects her children

But despite not seeing outrage I saw something else. I saw the bodies of those who had sheltered their. Beautiful little boys and girls who should have been celebrating Eid had been sleeping in a classroom when they were shelled. Young men gathering for prayer despite the bombing around them, praying for the safety of their families sheltering there were amongst the dead and wounded. My feed was filled with them. I wanted others to feel my anger and protest their deaths. But I stopped. I could not hit that share button.

Sharing may make people feel what I feel but it won't motivate them the same way that I am motivated. They may see the victims as Hamas. They may de-friend me for being too political or for sharing graphic images. But mainly it is because they are mostly mothers and I do not think mothers should have to feel this pain. Not sharing is done out of respect for all mothers as they are the most affected by these images. My respect is for the mothers of those children as their child's body is not a political tool but a person. It is in respect for the child who existed and walked this planet for a short time, had a character and was loved by many. They are more than a corpse on a computer screen.

Many on the ground are affected by what they are seeing

Instead of sharing an image I would like us to remember the innocent victims of conflict. I want you to remember and respect the little boys killed on beach playing soccer; Ismail, Zakaria, Ahed and Mohamed. I want you to remember the 8 children killed whilst celebrating Eid al-Fitr. I want you to remember those killed in the bombing of the UN schools and UN camps. I want us to respect and remember these children. Let us not protest their deaths by sharing images of their bodies. Protest their deaths with our words. We should be shouting because killing children regardless who they are is wrong.

Names of children killed in Gaza during July. Photo credit: Musa Al-Shaer

Check, check, testing...... Are You Racist?

I made this recent comment on a website after an article about racism.

"I always knew some Australians were racist but I never truly knew how much until I married my Indian husband. Is it sad use the term "lucky" when referring to my sons anglo appearance? It's not because I favour white looks but rather that he will not have to deal with racism his father faces. Sad isn't it?

My husband receives thinly disguised racist comments on a daily basis. The behaviour directed towards him compared to the kiwi or Aussie men is worlds apart. He tries to be friendly to everyone but it does not change their behaviour. The worst one is his supervisor who shouts his name and and uses his finger to direct him, just like people do well directing a dog. My husband is not an animal. He has feelings, but most importantly he is a human being.

The fact is that until you directly receive racism of the demeaning kind then you can't imagine how much it hurts. It hurts deep inside because it is a direct attack on something you can not change (and should not), your race. It makes you ashamed or embarrassed of who you are. I can not say enough how much it hurts.

I have receive racism for being white. It was directed at me by my in-laws before I married my husband. The biggest concern of theirs was that I was white and couldn't look after my husband. it hurt a bit but I knew why they had formed this view. You just have to watch a Bollywood movie featuring a white actress. She will be hot, she will be sexy but she will be seen as a bit of fun, a mistake, a slut, a mischievous temptress that steals the hero from his pure and wife material Indian girl. Bollywood is the mirror of what Indians (not all) see of white women. Bollywood portrays them this way because Indian society sees us that way. Society then sees it in a movie and it builds on the stereotype.

We may not feel effected by this stereotype planted into the culture by Bollywood but some my friends have. Some have had advances by Indian men for simply walking down the street. Some have been hassled, had sexual requests straight out and some instances abused when she has turned them down. They in return see all Indian men as sleazy and inappropriate. It is one big circle of generating stereotypes.

But if you want to be certain you are not racist then you should start with knowing the meaning of racism. Racism is when you discriminate or put down a race based on a negative stereotype of that race. Racism is when you can not see the individual but only the stereotype. I fight this daily as a Muslim woman. I fight the stereotype of weak, oppressed, voiceless, radical, anti-Australian, terrorist. Many do not see me as an individual. Many do not see me as a mother, a volunteer, a feminist who is outspoken and loves their country (even served in the ADF). I am that and much much more and the worst thing you can do to me is put the stereotype of being an oppressed Muslim woman when it is so clear that I am not.

I do not mind people supporting the many Muslim women out their who have faced abuse at the hands of men. I am right behind you in stamping out honour killings, FGM, child brides and any other abuse that some Muslim women may receive. Just do not assume that I need saving or that we all need saving. Do not tell me hijab is not my choice because I am "oppressed". Do not tell me that my kind husband is my tyrant. I do not fit your stereotype. I like to use this example in describing how I feel.

-> If you see an Asian man in the water at Bondi Beach and you jump in to save him. You reach him and grab him ready to pull him to safety. He tells you is fine and is just out for a swim but you don't listen because you saw on TV how many Asians get in trouble at Bondi. No matter how much he protests you bring him to shore and he is pissed off. He does not want to be saved. He does not need it. But he is most annoyed because you assumed he would be drowning just because he is Asian. <-

If you don't want to be racist then each time you meet a person, get to know them as an individual and not a stereotype. That is how you become a better person."

I am the vaccinating minority in my community.

I live in a close knit community. It consists of people of various races, cultures and nationalities but we do have one thing in common. We are all Muslim. I became a part of the community after I became Muslim in 2010. After marrying my husband we wanted to live amongst people with similar ideals and who could offer support to the minority group I had just become a part of. It was great for me as my family lived interstate and I had no friends that  were at the same stage in life. Upon entering the community I felt I had made a great choice. They delivered home cooked meals when I had my son. We got together for dinners, high teas and play groups. I felt they understood me and could really support me in every decision I made... except one. I became a minority within the minority.

 What many people may not know is that Muslims form a large part of the anti-vaxer movement. A movement I am familiar with after growing up in northern NSW. I now do not form part of that movement however I was as a child not vaccinated as my uncle had suffered a reaction to a vaccination as an infant. This combined with a close proximity to Nimbin inevitably meant I would contract a preventable illness and the one I got is recognisable as being one of the most devastating. Whooping Cough.

 I was seven and my sister was an infant. I was at first diagnosed asthmatic however my persistent mother eventually got the correct diagnosis. My cough was bad. I coughed up blood, my chest felt bruised and at times I was scared I wouldn't catch my breath. My sister being much younger ended up in hospital. I still cough in my sleep to this day and at times I cough so hard I almost vomit. It is an experience that made me realise why we need vaccines.

Whooping cough can cause a baby to have broken ribs.

 After my first child was born I faced the anti-vaccine propaganda for the first time however well informed nurses and my own mother helped me to see that vaccines had more positives than negatives. I already had the whooping cough booster and so did my relatives in order to protect my son but as soon as he reached the correct age he was inoculated. We were safe or so I thought. I soon realised that some of friends were not vaccinating their children. I had allowed my son prior to being vaccinated to be around unvaccinated kids but I was relieved that he now had his whooping cough vaccine.

 I felt we would be safe as my son would get all his vaccinations and not be at risk playing with other children. How naive I was because at 11 months old I took my son to hospital. His face was so puffed up and he had a fever close to 40 degrees celsius. The doctor who assessed him turned to her senior and told him it was classic mumps. Mumps! I had never even met anyone who had contracted mumps before. How could my son get mumps. The doctor explained it had re-emerged after vaccine rates fell and frustratingly doctors were treating more people for a completely avoidable disease.

My son with mumps

After my son recovered I decided to inform my community of the risk of these diseases. I made a post telling them of my experience as a child and as a mother. I was surprised though that majority of parents defended the anti-vaccine stance. They hurled hidden insults like "unlike others I have done my research" or "I am intelligent enough to see the truth". Any reply to say I believed doctors knew a lot more as they studied medicine for years was seen as an insult. I was told I could prevent diseases like mumps through eating certain foods and that I should take a naturalist point of view. I bit my tongue. I wanted to scream at them that they were stupid and if they had an health profession I might think what they were saying had some truth but they didn't. I found their reasons almost hypocritical. When there children got sick they went to the doctors and got scripts for anti-biotics. Some also happily fed their children processed food filled with preservatives whilst lecturing me that "unnatural" vaccines caused autism.

The swelling lasted for a few of days.

My stance of being pro-vaccines was becoming shaky as I realised about 75% of my community were anti-vaxers. I was bombarded on my Facebook feed with anti-vaccine propaganda. "Articles" from websites that had no links to scientific journals or were even peer reviewed. I saw how Bill Gates was killing Africans. Gardisal was killing our teens. MMR was causing autism. But the worst of all was when friends became first time mums. If they even mentioned they were worried about vaccinating (usually because needles make babies cry) the anti-vaccine mums would warn against vaccinating altogether. Even if I shared my point of view I was outnumbered.

I couldn't understand why people would be against something that had so many benefits. That was until I visited India. India is in you face with poverty and lack of sanitation. Along with that comes diseases including Polio. I saw polio up close and my niece, a doctor, had polio infected patients visit her practice. She had told me how people who refused the vaccine due to religious reasons sometimes returned with Polio wishing they had taken the vaccine. Polio is not something you can easily hide from view. Unlike other diseases where children usually die or recover to full health Polio often leaves crippled survivors who become constant reminders of its devastation. That is where I realised why people continue to be anti-vaxers.

We have seen autism, vaccine reactions and children recover from measles and other disease unscathed. But we do not see the children that die, we have never seen the child on a ventilator for whooping cough, we don't see the cripple with polio begging for money. This is all because vaccines reduce the occurrence of these diseases.. We like to weigh up the pros and cons from our experience and the truth is that more people have known a child that reacted to a vaccine than a child that contracted a deadly disease. This is to be expected in a highly vaccinated nation. But as vaccine rates fall especially in my community, there is no doubt we will see more of the latter. Maybe it is time we got tougher and start showing the uglier side of these diseases. Maybe we show the world through pictures and stories so we too can be reminded why we must protect our children.

Polio is very confronting.

Modest Sport

Modesty is very important to me. It forms part of who I am and how I want the world to see me. I would be lying if I said my religion does not play a part however it is not the sole reason I dress so modestly. I am only comfortable revealing my skin to those I trust.

My modest attire is that often worn by Muslim women. I wear skirts and dresses and cover my hair. But what if I wanted to get active? Have you ever tried running in a long skirt or dress? It makes sports activities a little restricted.

This may suit many women but for me, once an active child and teenager, it mean restricting many activities I enjoy. I am less of an outdoors person and that doesn't make me happy. So I have set out to find an outfit I can play sport in whilst still being covered. Many will disagree with the choices I will make. Some will criticise my covering and suggest covering makes me unhappy. But I have already said modesty feels very much a part of me. Others will suggest that my clothing is too revealing. Probably is for some standards of modesty but I have come to a conclusion. If I am happy I am a better person. If I am unhappy I start to rebel and resent. After 6 months of health issues I am trying to get healthy. In fact I am determined to get healthy and stay modest at the same time.

Modest Sport by chatterandchai featuring grey pants