It was a seemingly regular day. I had just returned from work and had immersed myself in one of the many tasks that kept me busy throughout the evening and well into the night. I thought it would be nice to tackle school reports in the living room to allow my parents to see a little more of my face and so, there I sat, in the comfort of my living room, seemingly unaffected by the world around me.
Despite this, it was hard to tune out the very issue that had altered the world as I knew it. My mother had been sent another of those forwarded videos on one social app or another and it was impossible to drown out the yells of victory and the subsequent clatter of a machine gun rattling.
Another video of the inhumane ISIS was being shared unashamedly, accentuating the extent to which these barbarians could not be Muslim. The religion forbade for one to further degrade a dead body, be it by mutilating it further or uploading it for the eyes of billions to see.
My father was flicking from one Iraqi TV station to another. The running commentary of the situation in Northern Iraq, the retaliation of the army, the opinions from experts and governmental officials blared consistently.
Within the microcosm of my world, I was pushed into the macrocosm of how the country I identified as my own was struggling with what the Western media tried to build up to be a sectarian war.
I turn to social media and one post after another showed violent and extremely graphic images of dismembered bodies and further examples of the atrocities committed. Without batting an eyelid, I continue to scroll and repost selected snippets of information.
When had we become so accustomed to this all that the sight of mangled bodies no longer made us sick to our stomachs?
#ISIS #Iraq #No2ISIS #Yes2Iraq #Media #Sectarianism #Shia #Sunni
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