Saturday, March 31, 2012

Longing for Revolution

There are moments when I wish I live in Syria.
There are perks of living in America, of course, like mass produced high calorie snacks and a government that isn't really trying to kill us.
But if you're an American teenager and people call you a rebel, it means you're a saucy loudmouth who does drugs and and scrawls illegible gang graffiti on school walls
I crave rebellion. I wish I could have been with those boys in Daraa who sparked the uprising by spraying anti-regime on a school wall. They were arrested, of course, and beaten and tortured hourly. Their captors asked them, "Why did you write on the walls? Who told you to write on the walls? Who are you connected with?"
As if a handful of schoolboys couldn't have problems with the regime.
All teenagers have passion, a yearning to stand up. To make impact. To make their voices heard and respected. To leave this world better off than when they were born into it.
For me, that passion is aimless. The youth of Syria have found their target: Assad. They've seen the bodies of the martyrs and keep on fighting, putting their families, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, education, jobs, careers, and lives on hold.
All revolutions depend on young people who haven't yet built up a callous to the world, who decide they'll prefer scars. Particularly this one-the internet has changed revolutions forever. And who are the mavens of facebook and twitter and skype and the blogosphere? Not all of them are over thirty.

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