a man self immolated in front of the israeli embassy in washington dc yesterday. not just any man. an active member of the us air force. he live streamed his death, and said that he refused to be complicit in a genocide any longer. he said that compared to what palestinians were facing every day, setting himself alight was nothing.
let me reiterate. an active duty air force member burned himself alive because he was so disgusted by what the us government was openly supporting. he live-streamed his own suicide, so the whole world could bear witness as a man in his military uniform set himself on fire to protest his government’s complicity in the horrors that we have all been forced to watch happen in real time. he became a new horror. footage of the immolation blurs him out the moment the fire catches, but you can hear him. it is over in seconds, really, but you can hear him screaming. he shouts “free palestine” until his body physically cannot make any sounds other than guttural screams of agony. and then he falls silent. a police officer arrives and points a gun at his still burning body, shouting at him to get down on the ground. and it is over.
his name was Aaron Bushnell. he was twenty five years old. and he isn’t here anymore because the political ruling class has decided that genocide is perfectly fine as long as it preserves imperialism. in the coming days, people will try to discredit him. to say that he was mentally unstable. they will try to bury his actions to save face and defend israel’s propaganda. do not let them. aaron knew what he was doing. he knew what he was doing when he put on his military uniform, set up his twitch stream, and made his final walk up to the embassy. he knew what would happen to him when he flicked that lighter. do not let them forget. aaron’s blood is on the hands of the political ruling class.
israel is bombing rafah. as you read this, israel is bombing the one place they told palestinians was safe. they kept pushing the palestinians south and now they are bombing the only "safe" place left. israel is bombing rafah.
warnings : mention of drugs (1), violence ( extremely minor ), cursing, arguments.
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Knock Knock.
Your knuckles hit the door in a rhythmic pattern, the door to the Morales’ home, that is. You would think that maybe you’d have a key by now since you visit so much, but Ms. Morales doesn’t like you that much, you guess.
There are a few beats of silence before you hear shuffling approach the door and the tired voice of your best friend.
“ Who is it? “, he grunts.
“ Me. “
Miles’ voice doesn’t reach your ears again for a few minutes before he’s sighing and unlocking the door.
The wood swings open to reveal him, Voltron pyjama pants and all. His hair is the same as when you last saw him, a little frizzy at the top, but neat braids brushing his collarbone. He needs a haircut.
“ What’s up? “, he says blankly.
“ You’re not gonna let me in? “
“ I don’t gotta let you in. You don’t live here. “, he stares at you like he can’t believe you just asked that question. Like you just asked for a brick of crack. “ What’s up? “
You’re starting to get a little irritated. Barely any communication for a week and when you show up to see what the deal is, you’re met with a grumpy teenage boy who looks like he’s about to break apart into glass shards.
“ I just wanted to see what you were up to, Miles. Don’t get so upset. “
“ ‘M not upset. I haven’t been up to anything, so you can go now. “
“ What’s wrong with you? “
“ Nothing’s wrong. You show up at my house and then you keep on asking me stupid questions like I don’t have anything else to do except talk to you. “, his eyes narrow. The once gold specks in the hazel colour are gone and replaced with anger. Your fist clenches, like he just punched you in the gut and you’re about to reel your own hand back and sock him with it.
“ What the hell is your problem? You barely even talk to me anymore and then when I try to be a good friend, you catch an attitude! “
“ I don’t have a problem! Estas Sordo? “ Miles moves his hand from the doorknob, reaching to grab your upper arm and push you back from the frame, not hard, but enough to get you to move out of his personal space. That you’ve hardly even invaded.
“ Go somewhere else. “, he spits.
“ Fine. “, your eyebrows are furrowed together. You’d been holding a sour expression for so long that your face was sore when you dropped it as soon as the door slammed in your face. Your feet automatically move to the exit of the building. A lump of guilt and anger welling up in your throat while you walk.
What the hell is his problem?
——
Miles swears he wants to choke you out. You’re so nosy. Can never mind your own business. He bounces his leg up and down, cracks his knuckles, drinks tons of water, tries to watch television, anything to get that conversation off his brain. So annoying. You should’ve never even come over. He wasn’t going tell you what was going on anyway, and you know that because you know him. Maybe you don’t know him, since anyone who knows him knows not to show up at his house uninvited.
Hard Headed. Cabeza Dura, whatever you want to be called. It doesn’t change the fact that you don’t listen, ever. It’s not like he ever told you not to come over, it was an unspoken rule!
I am avoiding you. Do not come over.
Easy as that.
You act like one dollar will turn into a million if you come over and act like the mediator between him and his thoughts.
But when he thinks about it, is it really as easy as that?
Of course, you’d come over.. but— not to argue with him. He didn’t want to argue with you, there was no point. He should’ve just said “ Okay. “ and left it at that. Maybe tell you the truth while he’s at it. The truth.
It’s Friday. The trip is next Sunday.
He hasn’t told you, he hasn’t told his mom, he hasn’t told Uncle Aaron and he certainly won’t be telling his school counsellor what the hell was going on in his very busy life. It’s eating him up on the inside. Tearing him apart and pulling out his hair. What will he do?
What would you do?
Tell the truth.
Shut up.
He has to tell his mom. Mama first, then everything else. She’s the only parent he has left. That makes his heart ache thinking about it. He should get over it, nothing is going to change the fact that he’s gone.
Why is every thought he’s ever had coming to the front of his mind right now when he’s about to tell his mom the craziest information? That he’s going on a trip 2244 Miles away from Brooklyn to Vegas of all places?
Right.
His fingers are shaking, he’s going to drop his phone or something. Just get it over with.
He messes up the passcode two times before getting it right, and then he mistypes, “ Mama “ in on the contact list once before he gets his shit together.
i'm seeing people losing hope for palestine i'm begging you seriously please don't. the death toll is high but there are still people alive, there are still journalists risking everything to make sure the world sees what is happening. please continue protesting if you have the option to, keep demanding for a ceasefire and keep talking about palestinians both alive and dead. you have to keep going until the very end or else you really did fail them.
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