Anniversaries

Today is the 40th anniversary of the My Lai Massacre, during which the US forces in Vietnam slaughtered about 500 Vietnamese villagers. The general American public did not learn of My Lai until November 1969, more than 1.5 years later, when an investigative reporter broke the story.

Later this week comes the 5th anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq. How many My Lais are there in Iraq? You'd have to go far back, looking at the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s, when the Reagan administration generously provided Saddam Hussein with chemical weapons and more, allowing him to further brutalize not only Iran but also the Kurds of his own country. (The New York Times broke this story in August 2002. I encourage you to research and learn more for yourself.) Fast forward a bit to the most recent Iraq war: in September 2007, a reputable independent research firm (ORB of the UK) put the number at 1.2 million dead Iraqis. For your reference, there are currently about 4,000 dead US soldiers.

1.2 million dead is not a massacre. It is not a war. It is a genocide. But the US feels "uncomfortable" with that word. They won't pin it on the Ottoman Empire for trying to eradicate as many Armenians as possible. They certainly won't pin it on themselves despite actively warmongering. They'll hope that because the 1.2 million dead include Arabs and Kurds, you'll assume that one group is definitely a bunch of terrorists and the others probably are too (even though you have no idea who or what Kurds are), and thus you won't get too inquisitive. And they certainly hope you never start asking about any My Lais in Palestine or in Lebanon, because then you'd certainly stop believing everything your government tells you. You'll start doing all sorts of unpredictable things, like figuring out that Barack Obama is not Muslim and didn't take his senatorial oath on a Quran...

Why does this matter to the US? We are, for better or for worse, a democratic republic. We participate in democracy (certain restrictions apply, such as hanging chads and poor voter/ballot access in areas with high concentrations of people of color) and choose our leaders. I do firmly believe if you vote for national leaders who support a particular war, you have Iraqi blood on your hands. (I do also firmly believe Hillary Clinton is included in this hawk category, but that's for another post.)

Why does this matter to me specifically?

Because I have roots in the mysterious "Middle East" - like the other blog operators and much of the readership. Because I am Armenian, an Armenian American fortunate enough to not have immediate family members dead in the early 20th century at the hands of the Young Turks but an Armenian American who feels both grateful to be spared that personal history and absolutely furious that it's continually denied by Turkey and pooh-poohed by the US and the UK.

Because I am also Serbian, the granddaughter of a non-Jewish Holocaust survivor. My paternal grandfather lived in a small village around Zagreb, now in Croatia. As an adolescent, he participated in the local anti-Nazi resistance movements, as a messenger boy. At one point, he was caught, refused to surrender his message to the Nazis, and instead ate it. He was arrested and detained in a concentration camp. After local resistance fighters somehow captured a Nazi general, he was thrown into a prisoner exchange program. Thirty Slavs, one German. When he crawled back to his parents' home, half-dead of tuberculosis, his own mother did not recognize him.

So, another roll of the dice - maybe my grandfather didn't make it in the group of Slavs being exchanged for the Nazi general, maybe my maternal grandmother's family had lived a few miles west on the "wrong" side of the Iran - Turkey border, and I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be free and well-educated and empowered in America. I would quite possibly not be alive. And I am not unique in this situation; this country is teeming with similar narratives, if you would only listen.

I tell these stories to keep this narrative, my family's narrative, alive, as I realize countless other similar narratives will never be spoken of or written publicly. As comfortable as I may be in a "safe haven" city like San Francisco, I cannot and should not get too comfortable. You shouldn't either.