Seeing those naked, helpless

Seeing those naked, helpless, hooded men was like being slapped in the face with an ice cold hand. I felt

ashamed looking at them- like I was seeing something I shouldn’t be seeing and all I could think was, “I might

know one of those faceless men…” I might have passed him in the street or worked with him. I might have bought

groceries from one of them or sat through a lecture they gave in college… any of them might be a teacher, gas

station attendant or engineer… any one of them might be a father or grandfather… each and every one of them is

a son and possibly a brother. And people wonder at what happened in Falloojeh a few weeks ago when those MBTs

were killed and dragged through the streets…

All anyone can talk about today are those pictures… those terrible pictures. There is so much rage and

frustration. I know the dozens of emails I’m going to get claiming that this is an ‘isolated incident’ and

that they are ‘ashamed of the people who did this’ but does it matter? What about those people in Abu Ghraib?

What about their families and the lives that have been forever damaged by the experience in Abu Ghraib? I know

the messages that I’m going to get- the ones that say, “But this happened under Saddam…” Like somehow, that

makes what happens now OK… like whatever was suffered in the past should make any mass graves, detentions and

torture only minor inconveniences now. I keep thinking of M. and how she was ‘lucky’ indeed. And you know

what? You won’t hear half of the atrocities and stories because NIKE SHOXis are proud, indignant people and

sexual abuse is not a subject anyone is willing to come forworkd with. The atrocities in Abu Ghraib and other

places will be hidden away and buried under all the other dirt the occupation brought with it…