The Openness of Ambivalence

 I read a piece so good today, that I am struggling to decide what to quote from it. Correction: I listened to the author reading out her piece. The piece was a tribute to the author, James Baldwin, and talks about the centrality of ambivalence in both his non-fictional and fiction characters. It goes on to talk about the author's own maturing as a writer, and her recognition of the importance of ambivalence. The dictionary definition of ambivalence is the state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone. It is most decidedly not fence-sitting or the inability to make up ones' mind. It is an innate skepticism towards grand ideas, whether one's own or others, and grand persons, whether oneself or others. An inability to be sold completely on anything or anyone and a limitless appetite for criticism of oneself and others. It can often be mistaken for negativity, cynicism or grouchiness. If not channeled into writing or other forms of self-expression, it can be harmful for one's mental well-being. The reason the piece chimed with me is I feel like I have the sensibility of a writer, even though I don't have a writer's talent. And, the core of that sensibility is ambivalence, the inability to lash myself to the mast of any grand idea or ideology. I have often wish I could find a cause to sink myself in and find people whose belief is as strong as mine to befriend/romance. But, that has not happened, and is unlikely to happen. If I self-identify as being ambivalent, I cannot take any pronouncements on my character as full or final. Maybe, in the future, I will find a cause to dive in. I am not holding my breath, though. 

Weekly Blog

(Apologies in advance for a very navel-gazey blog )And, just like that my blog has turned into a weekly. My past few entries have all been a week apart, and all written on Sunday. The truth is that with events in Gaza occupying so much mindspace, there is little room left for musing about life. I have no expert analysis to offer, and there is not catharsis to be gained from writing about how the genocide makes me feel. As I wrote last week, I have managed to put some fences around the issue in my mind (if I knew anyone affected that wouldn't be possible), but the real estate that the fence surrounds is still pretty large. My past few entries have been about my role in the protest, and I have nothing new to say about that. So, I'm in a situation where I don't have anything to say on Gaza, or about anything else. 

Fences

 To limit my time on Twitter, I have an online timer downloaded to my browser which blocks the site after it runs out. Every day since Oct. 7, I have been by-passing the timer by logging on to Twitter through the Incognito mode no my browser (Yes, Incognito mode has other uses, apart from facilitating porn-watching). Today, for the first time, I respected the timer. The situation in Gaza remains catastrophic. Israel's aerial bombardment hasn't stopped, and its ground invasion is proving bloody for both sides. Even once the bombardment stops, all signs point to a bloody quagmire in Gaza and the West Bank that my last months if not years. I wrote this blog nearly a month ago about how this struggle is going to be a long haul, and the need to pace myself and get on with life while continuing to participate in the protests. I finally feel like my heart is where my head was a month ago. The situation in Gaza continues to be foremost in my thoughts, but I feel like I have managed to put a fence around it to stop it from overwhelming me. Yes, I plan to be as active as I have been, but the big change will be cutting down on how much headspace I give this issue in the rest of my time. A part of this is down to me now having a set of concrete deadlines (job application, prep for trip to India) as opposed to the more open-ended timeline of writing academic papers. But, I suppose that I also needed to come to terms with the events since Oct. 7, which were unprecedented in so many ways that even someone like me who doesn't know any Israelis or Palestinians personally and who is not prone to activism found myself engulfed in them. Another example of time being the best salve. 

Protest Fatigue

 Yesterday was the big march in London. After March no. 3, I had written about how the protests had started to feel performative. But, skipping this march wasn't an option after the Home Secretary called us hate marchers, and incited the far-right against us. I realise that women and children don't need men to protect them, and, if anything, yobs get provoked by the presence of men on the other side. In hairy situations, women step in to protect their men from other violent men. But, I would have felt like a wuss if I had sat this one out. I am glad I went, and there was no trouble from the fash, but it was a draining experience. Maybe, it was accumulated fatigue from all the marches I have been to over the past four weeks. Maybe it was the size of the crowd and the fact that we were crawling along. But, I don't think I am going to go for the next march in London. Spending six hours on a coach to march for less than five hours requires a level of commitment to the cause that is difficult to sustain ( at least for me). 

Leafletting and Leading Chants

My activism has progressed to the next level. On Friday evening, I handed out flyers in Bristol city centre for Satruday's march. I was prepared for some pushback from Zionists, but barely got any. A young chap said Fuck You, but so softly that he probably meant only his companion to hear it, and they both burst out laughing. Another man refused a leaflet, explaining almost apologetically that he was Israeli. Many people took a leaflet willingly, some simply ignored me, and others declined politely, Being an activist requires having or building a thick skin and a lot of patience with people. I didn't think I had either attributes (although I am patient with my students). 

The next day was the bike ride, which was great. A bike ride allows you to cover a lot of distance, and is a different visual spectacle compared to a march. The response was overwhelmingly positive, except for a few irate drivers. But, you never know whether they are annoyed at you for being pro-Palestinian or blocking traffic. I also led chants for the first time in my life, and made all the associated rookie mistakes. I went too loud, too early and soon found myself croaking. A friend who is a veteran of protests said the trick is to chant from the stomach rather than the throat, whatever that means. When you are leading a chant, you are always afraid that no one else will take up that chant, and make you look like a fool. It helps if you pick a moment when the chanting has slowed down and don't try to compete with other leaders.

WW2 Films

Ever since the conflict began, I have been struggling to find books or TV to distract me. after a lot of scrolling, I found a WW2 documentary that serializes the most important events. I watched the episode on the siege of Stalingrad, and wasn't pleasantly surprised to see that it did not paint Russian officers as nasty brutes with no concerns for their own soldiers, as many Hollywood movies do. I then watched the other episodes, starting from the Nazi Blitzkreig and up to the fire-bombing of Dresden. The echoes with today's situation were unmistakable, with the difference being that Churchill apparently shed tears at the scale of civilian deaths, something which Western leaders today are steadfastly avoiding. I realise I sound incredibly self-involved, but I can't help thinking about what drew me to this docu series at this point in time. To be reminded that the world did not stop turning even after a war that was exponentially larger than any we have seen before or since?