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My fellow empaths, activists, believers, warriors for a cause, a thread thread got me thinking about feminism here, in Germany.

I think, here, there is a kind of naivety going on about the price that hangs on such slogans as equal rights for all. We have a sizable Muslim population. Have had them since the early 50s, I think, when Germany invited en mass immigrant workers to help rebuild a booming economy after the destruction of World War 2. Today we have what is called parallel societies. Muslim immigrants raise their children according to their traditions, and their faith. In their language. Within their communities. Tightly knit and closed off. And the Germans do what they've always done. These two cultures intersect at times. One of the prime examples would be school. By law, every child is required to go to school.

Now, Sonya, who's parents have immigrated from Afghanistan, has gone to school with her German friends since she was 6 years old. She's 16 now, and conflicted. Trapped between two worlds. Her friends find it unbelievable that her father is going to decide who she's going to marry, according to the traditions of the small part of Afghanistan he originally came from. They tell her about having boyfriends, about standing up for herself, that she has the same rights as everyone else and shouldn't kowtow to some superstition. She has noble friends that mean well. Heading their words she says yes when asked and goes out with a boy she's had a crush on. It's so easy to say yes when her heart wants her to, and her friends stand behind her to support her when she doubts. One of her brothers sees her. She is punished, and she is threatened. She is forced to decide if she wants to be dead to her family, to her brothers, to her sisters, to her parents, or follow the will of her father. Sonya is a very brave young woman, and she loves very easily, and with resolute strength. She sees the boy again, and having been followed, watched, and her father is told once more. She is sent to her room when she gets home. There is a discussion, and a decision is made. For the sake of the families honor, for having defied tradition, her faith, Sonya must die. Her youngest brother, 11, is made to do it. The law can't touch him. He just needs to stick to the story that it was an accident. And that is the last thing she sees in this world. Her younger brother, aiming a gun at her, serving honor, serving faith, obeying father, not knowing what it is he's doing.

Others have been burned alive.

Others had to change their names and live in fear of ever being found.

Others have merely lost their families, having died only in their hearts.

Others live lives of resignation, surrounded by a society they want, a freedom they can nearly taste it is so close, something they are not brave enough to grasp at.

Not all stories have a bad ending, but enough of them do to be disturbing.

What is my point with this post. I think that it's important to be aware of these facets of revolution. I think that people who want to change the world should be aware of the tears and of the blood that is spilled on the altar of that change. They should feel some of the pain that they cause through empathy if nothing else, and take some responsibility for it. I don't think this makes a revolution meaningless. I think sacrificing some of ones righteousness through the awareness and consideration of the price makes it more meaningful. It's not just about making yourself feel better, it's about an idea you believe in, after all, right?



These are my thoughts, in any case. Apparently I felt strongly enough to write about them, so, thank you for taking the time to read them.
 
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