I've been bombarded with tragedy all day. Reeling from stories of ethnic and religious strife in Pakistan, the oppressive atmosphere of sexual assault in Gao Xingjian's Soul Mountain, and from Margy Rochlin telling the story of her father Fred Rochlin on This American Life (listen here).

Hearing and reading I fidget with anger. I feel compelled to embrace more and more tragedy. Like it’s a crime to ignore it. As though I participate in causing the harm by not stopping it. It crushes me, hurts me. I'm whole. Not being annihilated. Not subject to unimaginable injustice; attack, murder, rape, and war.

And yet I am subject to injustice. I live in an unimaginably unjust world. Filled with all manner of evil and cruelty. I am disappointed. Cheated. I can’t imagine that this is how thing were meant to be. What does it mean to set things right? What will I do? I feel unable to do anything. I want everyone to equal but I am afraid to renounce my privileges. White. Male. American.

I must do something.