it’s sweepin’ szn

by jillian richardson

self-immolation. the act of setting oneself on fire. mostly done for political or religious reasons. often as a form of protest or in acts of martyrdom.

martyrdom.

the poem pictured here was written in response to the self-immolation of aaron bushnell on february 24, 2024. the depth of grief, pain, loneliness, anger, and despair in which he must have been drowning is at once hard to fathom and relatably human at its core. and perhaps he saw his pain mirrored and amplified within the egregiously inhumane events transpiring overseas. 

the little information that i have found about his life suggests that he endured substantial religious trauma growing up. and who knows how deep that went. the loss of his life at his own hand is tragic. not to be glorified. not to be —in my humble opinion— seen as an act of martyrdom. although i am not minimizing his psychological & emotional pain or even possibly his compassion that is now snuffed out.

after reading and seeing the news and disturbing images of mr. bushnell’s eerie incandescent self-scourging on a public sidewalk outside of the israeli embassy in Washington D.C., my mind would not sit still for several days. i could not help but think ‘what happened to mr. bushnell?’

some folks reading this may chalk it up to him being crazy or brainwashed. but…at the risk of sounding ridiculous, i would say: his mental state is beside the point. we ought not view ourselves too far-removed from the foundation upon which his plight may have innocently rooted itself.

this brings to mind a conversation i had with a friend recently. she was understandably concerned about the current events between palestine and israel; she had been following developments closely for months now. however, her constant journeys into the blaring echo chambers of social media and her non-stop absorption of 24 hour news images, soon turned her concern into melancholy, her melancholy into depression, her depression into despair, her despair into hopelessness.

given my observation of her despondency —in an existential emotional spiral which i have had myself a time or two— i offered up that perhaps she could take a break from social media and news apps for 48-72 hours and see if she feels better afterwards.

her brow furrowed as she bristled at the suggestion, “i feel helpless. i can give a little money, but then what? plus, you don’t really know where most of that money is actually going.”

i shrugged pensively, “i totally get that. still…it might help to unplug.”

she contested, “but i need to know what’s going on over there,” a pregnant pause momentarily filled the space between us, “…as a good person, i have to know what’s going on over there,”

“but why?” i asked with genuine curiosity.

the pitch of her voice rose in inflection, “because i will be showing my support by staying aware,” she calculated curiously as if she was asking herself a question, more so than answering mine.

i gently nodded to signal i, too, have been stuck in this endless feedback loop of circular logic, “but…knowing about it doesn’t...” i hesitated and gulped as if attempting to swallow the next four words, “…do anything about it.”

i slapped my hand over my mouth in terror and slid out of my chair in spectacular fashion, “i hate that i just said that!!”

her familiar soprano cackle of a laugh rang out for the first time during our conversation; once her laugh trailed off, a sobering and befuddled “but…it’s true,” followed.

we went on to candidly discuss the quandary we often find ourselves in when tragic issues like this israeli-palestinian conflict and others arise in the zeitgeist. at our best, humans care deeply about injustice. we can affect change in major ways when we mobilize and fight for human rights. but our conversation begged the question: at what point does knowing every detail of human suffering across the world become an unhelpful and empty gesture —a symbol of what good people we are, because we have ‘social awareness’?

at no other time in history have humans had the ability to witness the atrocities occurring against our fellow man in far off lands, in real time and be left holding a phone while experiencing analysis paralysis, if not the dread of impending doom.

so, am i saying that sharing news articles, hashtags, and links for aid is unnecessary? by no means. are there any actual benefits to our global connectedness? tons and tons. should we care what happens to people we don’t know and fight for justice? duh. i am simply observing that perhaps we —millennials, gen Z, gen X, and those super young ones who dance, debate, and diagnose themselves on tiktok…all the ‘gens’— perhaps all of us spend more time talkin’ about it than bein’ about it.

here in the west, we are the most therapized and socio-politically educated society. aaaaand we are also the most anxious and depressed society. the generation with the most resources at our disposal also seems to be the generation most paralyzed by the fear that nothing we do can really change the world. the generation that is the most privileged, the most liberated in self-expression, with most proximity to ethnic, political, and religious diversity also seems to be the most easily polarized by differing viewpoints and the most unwilling to have open, civil discourse about those differing viewpoints.

i say this not to shame anyone, not to diminish anyone’s plight, but to empower everyone. take a moment to think about all of the current events you have seen or read about in the last 24 hours. what percentage of them were about your local community? when is the last time you volunteered in your city consistently, researched your area’s local policies and officials, attended your child’s school board or PTA meetings, stepped up at church, taken on more responsibility at work, gave of yourself freely without wanting credit or documenting it on social media? don’t worry, i'm talkin’ to myself, too.

“If each of us would only sweep our own doorstep, the whole World would be clean.”

— [attributed to] Mother Teresa of Calcutta

there is a quote that is often attributed to mother teresa of calcutta that has been rolling around in my head as of late: “if each of us would only sweep our own doorstep, the whole World would be clean.” all i’m sayin is…it’s sweepin’ season. listen, some of you reading this can and will tangibly impact those injustices across the world— i wholeheartedly believe that. but! many more of us will pray, protest from afar, and raise awareness. all of us can make an indelible impact in our little corner of the world, in our communities, in our neighborhoods, in our homes. i wish mr. bushnell would have grasped onto this ideal. there is so much more hope there. so much more possibility. so much more life.

i wish mr. bushnell was alive. alive to make the rest of his years a living act of service to fight current and future worthy causes. alive so he could fall in love. alive to travel to those distant, picturesque places he dog-eared in magazines. alive to greet his late twenties; alive to feel “so old” as he turns 30; alive to sing karaoke again; alive to see how this whole thing ends. alive to tell the story of how he gave life a chance to get better…and it did. ▯

please share your thoughts and comments! all are welcome, those in agreement and those with different opinions~