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

My Son High-fived a Santa and My World Didn't Fall Apart.

I am not a rigid person who is closed off to others. I am open minded and tolerant which is surprising to some who presume as a Muslim I am against many things. I probably wouldn't be Muslim if it wasn't for my ability to open my mind to other things. My openness to others is necessary as my family are not Muslim. They are what I would call cultural Christian. Some use the term, Births Deaths and Marriages Christian others say Christmas and Easter Christian. Whatever the term, they refer to themselves as Christian and I consider myself a practicing Muslim.

So you can imagine now as a fairly non practicing Christian family they wouldn't have many differences with me. Yes it is true we get along. There are however some practices that we do not share. Besides not eating pork, we also don't celebrate Easter and Christmas. This was easy at first because it was just my husband and I. But now there is a third. The first grandchild and he does not celebrate Christmas.

My father spending time with his grandson on Eid

In 2011 I had my first child. My Sulayman (a version of Solomon), and he is raised Muslim. His grandparents are Christian (which one day I will explain to him) and I remember the disappointment they felt when they realised they would not get to spoil their grandson on Christmas day. I also feel a similar sadness during Eid where many spend time with there families in a style very similar to Christmas. I have had my parents celebrate with us for the sake of their grandson however there is a sense of awkwardness as certain things seem so alien to them.

So how do I raise my son to understand Christmas. I intend to raise him with tolerance and acceptance. To understand that there are others who live and believe differently to him. This philosophical talk may have to wait until he has a concept of things but for the time being I show him the "pretty lights" and let him admire the Christmas decorations. My realisation however of how soon I may have a conversation about Christmas came today when he ran over to a Santa in the local supermarket. He wanted a closer look of the man with the white beard. I can't blame him as you don't see men like Santa everyday. Sulayman smiled at the man and gave him a high five. All I could do was laugh. I made a conscious note to not give Santa a name and told my son to say goodbye to the nice man. You may wonder why I didn't tell my son about Santa but I realised how confusing it is for a two year old to understand about religion and within our belief he does not have to understand many things until he is older. Instead I focused on my son being polite and saying goodbye. A lesson every child should be learning at the age of two. Not about comparative religion.

I am not alone in having to raise children in a society with such a strong love for Christmas. Over 22 percent of Australians have no religion and 7.2 percent of Australians have a belief other than Christianity. Just to give us an idea in terms of numbers, there are over 1.5 million people in Australia with an alternative religion to christianity. That means Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs and Jewish people, have deal with introducing other religions to their children at a very young age. I know many would have different ideas on how to do this. They vary from a fearful approach to an almost adopting approach (imagine my shock when being wished a Merry Christmas by our Hindu friends). It is completely up to the parent on how they do this.

I find India as an example of the need for tolerance. A country where all major religions exist. Where billboards wishing Ramadan Mubarak make way for Happy Diwali. I don't want to shield my son from the knowledge of other religions but to understand the differences and to be proud of his religion. That, I hope, will allow him to grow into someone strong and proud of his faith, Inshallah (God Willing)