athrowawayjournal

“I can’t imagine my departure. When I’m gone, I’ll simply be gone.”

- Bernard Haitink, 1929-2021

Someone poste a meme about feeling like a rotisserie chicken while pregnant on the beach.

Hey everyone, life as a type 1 diabetic is... just a little different from life for everyone else. Since my diagnosis at age 9, I've been taking care of my diabetes with the help of a great team of professionals that always emphasized the importance of me being able to help myself, as they reckoned I could handle it and my home situation was difficult.

Now, however, my mother wants to learn more about what it's like and how she can be more supportive. She hasn't always been around for family reasons, but she wants to really step up now. Especially since family support (for my diabetes and in general) is at an alltime low.

Problem is, neither of us know where and how to start - has anyone got any suggestions? Books, videos, podcasts?

My friend told me about a conversation which brought her to tears (or at least nearly), by shattering her sense of self confidence: because of her last name, an interviewer (this was for an international position - the interview took place in English) had asked her "where she was from, and why she decided to come to thus country". She, of course, had been born and raised in said country. She was shocked, hurt and offended - all at once. I felt for her at first, feeling her pain, but then when I thought about it, it made zero sense to me.

I wondered why I did not understand her feelings about that simple question... of interest? Or was there something else to it?

I know the question all too well - it is usually the second or third question people ask me upon meeting me, often even the first. And then it dawned on me: the question made complete sense to me and would not offend me, because I am used to it. My Grandmother still jokes about the time an adult asked me the question when I was around two, and I replied with the name of the city we had just moved from. But then when I grew older people did not laugh, but posed the second question "no, I mean where you are really from?" I then figured out I had to reply my birth country, in Africa.

It made sense to me, because if you are black, this is a normal question to ask. Obviously, you cannot be European if your skin is black. This sentiment carried out by most people around you, gives you a sense that you do not belong from an early age, and thus you are not shocked when people confirm this. In the news, in Parliament, in school, even in your circle of acquiaintants.

We focus on "integration", not segregation, like those silly Americans. But do we really? I remember an incident where I - how ironic! - was looking for a spot to study for my law exams. A lady who apparently thought I was lost said: "Oh, you (as in "tu", not "vous") must be looking for the language course!" I kindly replied in her language that I in fact was not, and she said: "Oh, but if your friends want to learn Dutch, let us know!"

It is patronizing, it is painful, but most of all, I saw through the eyes of my friend it really tells you you're not like us, and for all you try to integrate (or in my case, have been a part of the culture for all your life and not even know any different culture) we will never fully see you as one of us.

Because by dehumanizing evil, we forget that its seeds lie in all of us.

I think that if we put certain objects beyond discussion, that means we stop studying them. Thus, we will never find out

(1) if they even hold any truth, and

(2) how they ever came to be in the first place or how they could have been prevented.

One of my childhood heroes was Wilhelm Furtwängler (a classical conductor); he was what really got me into Beethoven. When I was slightly older, my grandmother showed me a picture of him taking a bow before Adolf Hitler, who was sitting first row. "You know what they played?" she said, "Beethoven 9." I was shocked, confused, for a moment, then later afraid. Because if Furtwängler tolerated Hitler, who turned out to love Beethoven, what did that say about me? Today, I conclude it does not say much about me. It says more about them. They were also human, and tolerated by fellow human beings as fellow human beings. Seeing something as the root of evil, rules it out, and makes us forget that evil is amongst us. If we forget, we are not vigilant, and it has every chance to strike.

I think a beautiful way to handle this dilemma of shunning and studying evil responsibly, is what the Bayreuth Festival does and has done with Richard Wagner's works. Wagner is a notorious jew hater (although he remains uncancelled), his family members sympatized with Hitler's policies, and the festival was even attended by the Führer himself. Still, the festival survives today as a beacon of self reflection. It stages his operas but does not shun showing the audience where they are wrong, thus standing out as a testimony that evil is not only omnipresent, but might present itself in a form that even appeals to you.

You announced a cap on insulin prices for American seniors of 35 dollars per month. Great. You wondered - as insulin keeps people from going blind, having amputations or getting kidney disease - if you should be taking it ("I don't use insulin, should I be?").

That's funny to us, because we know insulin injections are quite dangerous to people without diabetes, like you...

But what about the young type 1 diabetics, who still have to pay hundreds of dollars each month? Should they just wait and see if insulin prices do drop? What about the fact that they have been protesting the high and climbing insulin prices for years? What about the fact that those who die because they cannot afford their insulin are typically young and fit and from "my" group?

No, Donald, I just think you don't know what you're talking about: "I know a lot of people are badly affected, unbelievable." But who is really, Mr President?