Today has been over a year and a half I have not seen my family, over 7 months of which I have spent in Kobane. I miss especially my mother, who though made homeless and stateless decades ago managed to build ragged homes, across the caves of southern Kurdistan, across the bombardments of Saddam, across mustard and nerve gases to refugee camps, to precarious states of existence and repeated homelessness in Rojhelat and finally across seas in Australia.
My mother I miss especially today on Mother’s Day. My mother whose radical softness remains the most profound call of her revolutionary heart in a world filled with harsh, jagged edges; visible and invisible, barbed, jagged edges that bleed you dry long before you beware; and I remember my mother halving our already meager meal in our state of homelessness and feeding the homeless widow and her 3 orphaned children; and so I learned the words Love and Kindness, and a bold courage to care for others especially when it was most inconvenient, from her. And I know, I know in refugee communities it is the women, the mothers whose greatness, whose immense hearts of boundless, infinite love and courage carried us through wars, refugee camps, excruciating poverty and hunger that stretched scrapes of moldy bread across days and weeks; and I remember the moldy bread especially. Our refugee, stateless mothers whose feminine revolutions remain unseen and unspoken; daily revolutions taken over, erased, forgotten even, but revolutions that allowed us to survive; acts of such great daily resistances that produced revolutionary subjects so dauntlessly, passionately determined to eradicate the jagged and harsh edges of this world so as to evolve it, reclaim it and finally free it so as to reflect the immense intensity of kindness and love mirrored in our mother’s eyes.
Our greatest gift to you- our stateless, homeless, colonized, refugee, revolutionary mothers struggling in a gluttonous world where your children starve – will not come in displays of capitalism’s appropriation of expressions of love and gratitude, in flowers or in gifts. No, I know your beautiful, powerful heart of endless love and struggle doesn’t desire this; our greatest gift to you is us answering the call of the revolution; in answering the most wild, sacred call of our hearts: for a life lived with dignity, with freedom, with love, with endless belief in a better world, and answering its transcendent call filled so radically with unwavering determination. Our greatest gift to you is to be so revolutionary, so subversive, so anti-establishment, and so filled with humanity and love for the oppressed, the marginalized, the silenced, the colonized, that we forge before unknown and unseen paths across mountainous terrains of oppression and violence, across oppressive systems and ideologies and make the mountains of collective violence that stand in our way shake with the beating of our fierce, resolute, unwavering hearts. Our greatest gifts to you, our refugee mothers, is to shake the very foundation of the world so that not a single one of you is ever made homeless again; and you grow old in the loving embrace of your native, ever green lands of your forefathers, among your most dearest and beloved ones…
Happy mothers day to all mothers, but especially my mother, my greatest love, the beat of my revolutionary heart whom I cannot see and hug today but can convey the poetry of my heart.