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Content note: this piece contains mentions of military violence, military occupation and indoctrination.

By the time I leave this earth in my current form, I hope our societies have changes somewhat – to become more just and equal. With time and learning, my understanding and knowledge of global and local injustices only increases. This can come with an increasing sense of doom, as the load of a just world feels heavier by the day.

Change does not spontaneously happen – it happens only when we bring it about. This is why I consider speaking out, learning and trying to do better – as moral obligations. Trying to figure out the most effective ways to create change is the hardest part. There are many questions that come to mind. Recently I’ve mulled over this one – Do we have to publicly explore the trauma we’re working to prevent in order to create justice?

Recently I finished reading The Mother Wound by Amani Haydar, and it has convinced me of the answer to this question. In The Mother Wound, the author explores the various personal implications of her own and her family’s trauma. She shares specific violent incidents, occasionally in graphic details, but always in an empathetic way that leaves the reader no choice but to feel the experiences, to step into the shoes of her mother and herself. The details around the lives of her family in Lebanon, and the way her grandmother was killed, were vivid. The pastoral village life, her grandmother’s love and resilience become crucial in my understanding, as the reader, of their motives, wishes, values and aspirations. I related to their extremely common human needs for safety, love, community, and purpose.

Then when the violent and inexplicable attack on civilians is described in the most details available, I could not help but feel outraged, shocked, angered, and extremely sad. Soon many other feelings surfaced, including hopelessness, desperation, and a deep desire to translate the work to Hebrew so that every Israeli can read it. 

Because Haydar shared her family’s trauma, a significant shift has occurred in my mind. Despite being aware of the occupation by the Israeli government of Palestine, until reading this book I thought the majority of methods used by the military were genuinely necessary, and executed with high care for human life and international law. This idea, that has taken roots in me via years of informal and formal education, media and cultural beliefs, was at once shattered.*

Suddenly, the military ‘protecting’ my country of birth and citizenship, was painted with a completely different brush. The military I was taught was essential to protect the Israeli people and that was the most powerful whilst humane in the world, the military every Israeli citizen must join at 18, the one I served in for nearly three years – was not what I was always led to believe it was.

This military was suddenly exposed as the one who sends secret agents that brutaly kill Lebanese civilians simply because they identify with the liberation of Palestinians. The same army we were told always considers human life at their highest priority, was suddenly exposed as the army that bombed a clearly marked civilian line of vehicles. Those vehicles carried women, men, children. The youngest victim of this attack was only a year old. An innocent baby. There were no military targets in the area. The traumatic implications of this violent attack naturally reverberates through generations and continents, yet no government or military personnel have taken responsibility. This cannot be described in lesser terms then the unjust act of cruelty by a hating, racist oppressor. My entire worldview has shifted.

This book immediately challenged not only everything I thought I knew about my country, our soldiers, our ‘safety and security’ policies, our governments, but it also completely challenged my perception of who we are as people, and by extension, of who I am, who I was, and many of the decisions I have made in the past. I’ve always struggled with integral aspects of the culture I was raised in. But this book brushed my already non-favourable perceptions with a metallic, bloodied red.

If the author would have left this part of her story out, this perception change would not have happened. Shaking our beliefs, looking at people, ideas, values and actions from a different angle is difficult. It is challenging and can make any of us feel uneasy. We have a psychological bias to search for information that confirms what we know and believe, and experiencing anything outside of that is always a conscious, effortful choice. Without this discomfort though, we as communities and humans will never progress. Stepping out of our comfort zone to read an opinion we disagree with, or watch something we wouldn’t normally choose, is how we learn, develop, and grow.

As long as we remain living in unjust, unequal and unsafe communities, trauma must be explored, expressed and revealed to the public. This is certainly not to say that we should trauma dump**. Nor do we need to constantly or carelessly share our and our people’s traumas. Care and consideration is key, but the sharing is crucial. By sharing how a traumatic oppressive system, relationship, event or person has affected us, we help others understand. We can help someone else step into our shoes – feel, relate and perhaps even shift their perspective. This is essential if we want to see any social change. Change will not happen on its own, but by the power of people choosing change. Only with opening our eyes, our hearts and our minds, will we ever progress towards a just, equal world. 

If you believe in the pursuit of justice, if you believe that every human deserves to live their best life, to have access to safe communities, welcoming spaces, equal opportunities, and to be free of harm, then you must become comfortable with being uncomfortable. Tuning into others’ experience to understand is our duty to our fellow world citizens.

Until next time, 

Liel K. Bridgford

*Note that although even the recent war in Israel/Gaza involved killing of children, the Israeli government and army officials have insisted on the care and importance of the military targets behind the attacks. Furthermore, Israeli propaganda tells citizens that families are always warned and given opportunities to keep safe. My levels of belief in these messages were shaky but still somehow intact until I read The Mother Wound.

**trauma dump refers to the exercise by which one shares unedited traumatic experiences without warning, structure or purpose beyond personal unloading.

P.S. note that I don’t advocate to trauma dump or disregard your own right to safety when engaging with others’ lived experience. Rather, healing is a communal responsibility. As the sharer, it is one’s responsibility to make apparent what it is you will be covering (for instance through trigger warnings or content notes) and provide sources of support. As the audience, it is our responsibility to always look after ourselves before, during and after we engage with others’ stories. This will mean different things to different people, but can include engaging with material in safe spaces and times, or reaching out to others for support, encouragement or debrief.