Real Hartford

Reflection on Rachel’s Words

I was born the same year as Rachel Corrie, the dead woman whose letters home I read at the Quaker Meeting House tonight. I am thinking a lot about parallel lives these days. Maybe parallel is not the right word for it, but I can’t think of a better one. When I watched Persepolis, I thought about how Marjane, only a few years older than me, grew up in a war zone. What I feel about this cannot be described as guilt. It’s more like awe. There are some overlaps between us, despite what would otherwise be lives defined by opposite sides of the planet. The punk scene seemed to interestingly save and alienate us both. Being headstrong and vocal got us both into trouble. Yet her adolescence was wrought with gender-based oppression, bombs, and just a generally stifling and dangerous environment. My run-ins with peers at school over pieces of my own identity were nothing in comparison. I never had to fear imprisonment for speaking out. Continue reading Reflection on Rachel’s Words…