A note on Solidarity

The Sri Lankan Government has heralded this year as the year that they get rid of the Tamil Tigers -- read "Tamil Problem" -- read "Tamil People". And as a result the Sri Lankan Military has burnt the LTTE out of their de facto capital, out of their last stronghold, and into the jungle where, at most recent estimate, they have been confined to an area of 115 square miles -- within which 250,000 Tamil civillians are at risk -- and being bombed daily-- with over three hundred civilians killed this week. The Sri Lankan Army calls them human shields. Further north, the Tamil people of யாழ்ப்பாணம் --in English, Jaffna-- where my parents were born, are living under military occupation and over one million Tamils are living as internally displaced people. That's one million out of an estimated total population of 3 million - of which 250,000 are being systematically carpet bombed.

I'm sure all of this sounds disgustingly familiar. But I'm not trying to say it's the same. Because when the bombs started -- or should I say resumed -- falling over Gaza last year, my heart broke into two pieces. One half bleeds for every Palestinian who suffers while the other cries out to Tamil Eelam. And if somehow I woke up from this nightmare and someone said, "Here's Tamil Eelam on a silver platter!" I'd say that it was a dream within a dream and that I was still living the nightmare if Palestine wasn't free. And I lied, because my heart isn't broken in two - It's broken into hundreds of pieces - a splinter for Palestine, one for Tamil Eelam, one for folks dying of cholera in Zimbabwe, for Oscar Grant, for Leonard Peltier who was recently assaulted in prison because of his imminent eligibility for parole, and for all native brothers and sisters who have been massacred, assassinated, lied to, and cheated for over two hundred years, and who continue to suffer--their grievances un-addressed!

This is what Solidarity means to me: a broken heart that will never be whole until the world turns over and everyone gets justice. But also, the solace of knowing that other people's hearts are broken too; and knowing there's a job to do. So I need to say thank you. To everyone who support Palestine, to everyone who said they thought of me when they heard about what's happening in Sri Lanka, to everyone who thinks the world is coming apart at the seams but won't stop holding it together. Thank you. In my own words, in the language of my people: "ஞாயம் இல்லாமல், நிம்மதி தாங்காது!" -- without justice, peace can't bear it. One more time, from the bottom of my heart: Thank you.

DC is a senior at UC Berkeley, this was written as a statement of support to Palestine and to those who are doing solidarity activism for justice in Palestine.