Who am I, child of wealth and privledge who has never known pain or fear, child of an imperialist nation that thinks it knows best, that it has the right, the perspective, to police the world, I who has never wanted for food and shelter and adequate health care a day in my life, who has always known peace and prosperity and for whom war is and has always been something which occurs in far off, remote lands, something read abou or seen in films, but which never, ever comes to us, who am I, who has never fought or killed or brushed against death, never seen my loved ones suffer or die, never walked in anguish and despair and seen no hope for escape, for liberation, who am I, to whom guns are toys and bombs something which haunt my dream but are banished with the light of day, who am I to spak of war or death or pain? Rich white educated spoiled child of the most overindulgent, bloated nation on earth, what right do I think I have to say a word? I know nothing of which I speak.
But don't think that'll ever be enough to shut me up.
(if we don't speak, who will?)
