This Is Not a Call to Look Away

intimacy during violent times

I’ve been living ahead of the headlines. Seeing people executed online before the regional news announces it, before the national news announces it. Waiting for the other camera angles to reach the algorithm, then me, across the country. Reading what he said and she said and they said about it all. Wondering what that means for you and me.

I stood on a street corner with numb fingers, watching another street on my phone. A whistle in my ear. People near me in the real world walked by. I was unsure what the color of the sky was above.

My breath was lost. I asked for a sign. What should I do?

When I got home, my kids smiled and greeted me. Hi Mom! Everything inside was usual. But in the town I grew up in, where my dad lived, another man with the same name and profession as him was killed by people hired with my tax dollars.

I texted my dad as I got my family ready to leave: He was a male nurse named Alex.

Outside, crows screamed. I didn’t hear them. My kids did. A crow! They said it twice before I noticed. Where? I said. There. They pointed at the sky and the tops of the trees, and I saw nothing but the sky. It was so blue.

Our boys practiced swimming.

We bundled back up, wet hair under wool.

Look at the clouds, Mom, my kid said twice. I looked. They were mottled like coffee with cream before it's mixed. I saw a person in them.

At home, I couldn’t stop scrolling. I wanted more information. Nothing was enough.

Joe made me help him make biscuits. I pinched cold butter into flour. He poured in milk and cider vinegar. We mixed it. He rolled it and folded it. My baby helped. Little hands alongside my husband, Joe's, double-jointed thumbs.

I scrolled more.

We ate an English hot pot with American biscuits. It was the kind of meal that made you forget everything beyond the table.

I lay my head beside my children as they watch a movie.

I lay beside them as they fell asleep in bed.

I lay beside Joe on our couch. We watched a documentary about a tyrant, and I picked up my phone intermittently, scrolling, watching.

Our bed was cold before Joe got in. When he lay beside me, I wrapped around him. My head on his armpit. His arms held me around my neck. My legs bent between his. Our ankles tucked into each other’s. It felt safe. It even made us laugh. Then grow aroused. I left my mind.

We touched ourselves. We touched each other. I came with a vibrator on my clit as he pinched the sides of my vulva. His penis twitched twice in my mouth as it happened.

You came quick, he said.

It was all the cuddling. And where did you get the idea to do that pinch?

What can I say? Sometimes you’re called somewhere.

We laughed.

Yes, I called my reps with 5calls. Yes, I donated to the Women’s Foundation Immigrant Rapid Response and Community Aid Network MN and MN Rep Ilhan Omar, who has been helping immigrants (including my husband) since her political career began. But I was also called to look up and lie down.

I will never look away. I also can’t forget that my emotions are designed to be entangled with these scroll platforms. As I ask everyone to prepare for a general strike and boycott corporations, I can’t forget that my attention grows Meta’s ad revenue.

I can look at the atrocities, support my communities as my skills and resource allows, and I also need to look up at the sky, and lie down with my family, to maintain my humanity.

I’d love to hear how you’re holding your humanity together and what actions you’re taking to support others’ humanity. Let’s not forget we’re all under the same sky.