Diaspoura
The Coconut Blog #3
This word was born from running away.
As the Jewish people were displaced from Israel, all who left were labelled as the “diaspora”. Scattering, dispersing, fleeing.
Are we still running?
The audacity of this fucking term.
It was not us that conquered lands and stole cultures from the mouths of matriarchs.
It was not us that destroyed traditions and re-established them as our own.
It was not us that created “otherness”, “inclusion”, “bias” and “charity”. We do not use words that draw sticks and stones between us — it is not our intention, but your design.
Ours is a place of comfort. The diaspoura is a mobile home of necessity.
Identity is a fickle thing when yours was stolen before you were born. And the one you were given came loaded with so much baggage.
We pour knowledge into our communities to give us ways to cut through without violence.
We pour kindness into our actions to remind our neighbours that humanity is not a commodity to be sold — despite their past actions against our people.
We pour fire into our words, even though we speak their language.
We pour compassion into ourselves — hatred will not consume us.
I can tell you that we are not running away.
We are running toward it. Justice, equity, belonging and freedom.
The dias pour a is flourishing. Brimming at the top.
Originally published at thecoconut.blog. Let’s continue the conversation there.