In the last six months, I did exactly the opposite of what I said I was going to do. I withdrew from the news, taking shelter in my Australian PR status, neither here nor there when it comes to being married to the fate of a particular country or community. I did it because, paradoxically, the more I participated in politics, in organising and action, the more impotent I felt. So I retreated to realm where I had the illusion of control: the realm of the everyday, the realm of just me, the realm of privilege. I’m getting sick of myself now. I’m working my way back now, allowing anger back in, allowing myself to consider the suffering of others. I hate it, but there’s no other way to be a person in this world. Not unless you’re content to divorce yourself from the human fabric, and this isn’t a real state of being. It’s just a lie.