Just a heads-up friends, today’s letter is a little heavy and the voiceover reflects that.
This voiceover is an audio version of the newsletter below. As always, it’s unedited so probably features some stutters and re-starts. If you like/need to listen to these posts I hope you enjoy it.
Hi mates,
I’m sending this out of schedule. I hope that’s okay. I had plans to send out a letter in follow-up to last week’s, where I wrote about the inner voices we all have—which ones to listen to and the ones to tune out.
I have a bit to say about how to discern between the two and the filters we can run criticism through to determine which basket it fits into. Learning to do so will help us tap into our intuition—the kind of knowing that allows us to act in a way that feels right, even when it ruffles feathers.
But I couldn’t write about that without recognising something in myself first. There’s a voice in my head, a loud one, that I have ignored for months. It’s a voice I’m familiar with, that pipes up when a new disaster strikes, when Something Terrible happens in the world. It’s one I’ve shushed on and off for a long time because who cares about my opinion on things? Isn’t the way I live my life enough?
Sometimes, yes. But in this instance, no.
I want to write about the war in Gaza, and have wanted to for a long time, but several things have stopped me, not least of which was fear. But also, assumptions.
I assumed my stance was common sense. I assumed the majority of this community would feel similarly. I assumed that we can and would hold multiple, uncomfortable truths simultaneously. I assumed that we can and would speak and think in nuance, steering clear of the in-out, yes-no, good-bad way of thinking that has propelled the world to such a terrible place.
For the record, I don’t think any of those assumptions were misplaced.
But I also assumed people would just know what I stood for. That I shouldn’t have to say anything because my work and my values were enough to show what kind of person I am. And that assumption was driven entirely by fear.
Even though I am afraid—of being miscategorised, of being accused of something I’m not—this voice demands an outlet, and this is the one I have.
My opinion on a complex, centuries-old regional and religious conflict doesn’t matter. I’m not knowledgeable enough to discuss what is happening politically, why it’s happening, or how to solve it.
But my opinion on the humanitarian tragedy unfolding in Palestine? In Rafah, right now? Of course it matters. When it comes to how we treat each other as human beings, everyone’s opinion matters. Mine and yours and everyone we know.
Here’s what I believe:
The Israel-Gaza war is a humanitarian catastrophe. One that is damaging the soul of every single person on the planet. Every war does.
I believe the murder of innocents is deplorable—always.
I believe there must be a permanent ceasefire—now.
I believe all hostages and captives must be released—immediately.
I believe a path to lasting peace in Palestine and Israel must be brokered—for good.
I believe the death of one child is one too many and I believe the death of thousands is too much to bear.
This is not political. It’s humanitarian.
I’m sharing my thoughts on the tragedy unfolding in front of us. As a human being, as someone who loves and cares and believes every single one of us has certain human rights, and children most of all.
What can we do?
Stay away from social media if you need to. I was on Instagram earlier today, and I can’t do it. There are violent and horrifying images that you don’t need in your head to know what’s happening.
Yes, that is a privilege. Let’s use it for good and replace time spent despair-scrolling with something more practical.
Write an email to your local members. Federal, state and local governments. Just tell them what you stand for and what you want your government to stand for. Feel free to use what I’ve written above or put your own thoughts on the page. The more of us who do, the less they can ignore us.
Here’s a list of all federal Australian Senators and Members to get you started.
Take part in peaceful protests or humanitarian vigils.
Donate to charities operating (or trying to operate) in war-torn areas:
Seek out conversations or read voices of hope. I haven’t read it yet, but the anthology Light in Gaza: Writings Born of Fire features the work of twelve Palestinian writers who reimagine a hopeful future for Gaza. It’s currently free to download as an ebook from the link above.
Take heart knowing there are many people, from all sides of political, social, religious and cultural spectrums, who feel similarly. We have so much common ground and it’s time we plant ourselves there.
We don’t need to have public opinions on everything. In fact, I think that’s one of the big issues in the world at the moment—many people are convinced their uneducated opinion is just as valid and worthy of attention as those of experts.
But there are some things worth speaking for. This is one of them.
I know we’re all doing our best to exist, live well and find joy in spite of the pain in the world, and I think that’s good and right and important. But we can only hold opposing truths like these in the palm of our hand when we acknowledge the existence of both.
I hope you’re doing okay.
I’ll be back over the next couple of days with the follow-up to last week’s letter. Thanks so much for coming along with me today.
Take good care,
Brooke xx
Thanks for these beautiful words, Brooke.
Valuable share. We often get misrepresented in spaces we assume people will see us eye to eye. Appreciate you sharing.