“My name is Aaron Bushnell…”
And I am going to set myself on fire. I am going to burn, as the system upon which I once held unwavering confidence did. I am going to douse myself in the tears of Palestinians, and cry out “free Palestine” as the children, mothers, fathers, grandparents, friends, lovers, Palestinians all over the world cry. And you are going to sit on your high horse and call me mentally ill at best, a sick, twisted soul at worst. And I am, how could you not be? How could one be held to the standards of sanity that make no sense to the status quo? Soul-loss is sickness, and I. Am. Sick.
The video of Aaron Bushnell’s self-immolation in protest to Israel committing genocide against Gaza’s people is burned into my brain. His cries, his final words, are a reflection of everything we are. Everything we all are. The good, the bad, the brave and the pained. So much pain. When I started my podcast I knew I wanted to do something with it. And if I’m being honest, I desired for that something to be perceived as important and impactful and relevant. But then, the weight of living had me in a chokehold, and Palestine was being destroyed, and I was moving to a new state. And suddenly I felt as if the last thing anyone needed was another podcast about what is wrong with the world.
And then, early this month I realised that is exactly what the bad guys want. For someone’s drive and desire to make change, however seemingly insignificant, to be extinguished. The bad guys, as I have decided they will be called, crave this sense of loss of drive. Motivation. Goodness. And I can’t begin to explain why, but I know what it’s doing to us. We are desensitised, distanced, disinterested and disembodied from our humanity. And Aaron was not. At least, not in his final moments. If I too can allow flames to engulf me, and watch unwaveringly as the bad guys try and fail to extinguish my hope, I can live.
My name is not Aaron Bushnell. My name is not Hind Rajab, or the 30, 000+ Palestinians that have been murdered. My name is Mudiwa, and that name means Beloved. And for once, I hope with every fibre of my being I may instead be nothing but good. Loved, hated, feared, even ignored… I do not care. But I want to be good.
