Terrorism in New Zealand: Redefining Freedom

When I first heard of the events unfolding in Christchurch on the 15th of March, I was sitting getting my back tattoo finished. Probably because I'm a Spiritualist, my initial reaction was to join my own pain with that of the people in Christchurch. I closed my eyes, breathed mindfully, and linked the sensations of the relentless needles penetrating my skin with those experiencing the terror unfolding around them. It was my form of prayer and way of sharing the experience. Then I began reading about the particulars as they were developing and carefully observed my thoughts, which I've done continually since, and thus why I chose to write them down. I can not say that I am proud of what I heard, but better to hear them for what they are and what they have to teach me then to ignore them and miss an opportunity to learn about myself.

I apologise in advance if anything I write displeases anyone, I mean no offense. When epic tragedies such as what happened occur, people think, feel and say many things for various reasons. What makes mine unique, perhaps, is that I'm an ex-American turned newly-hatched Kiwi. In effect, I can see this from multiple cultural angles, and vastly different angles at that. It is not my intention to take a dig at America, but offer a contrast to how I view these types of experiences now; something beneficial to anyone in any country.

1. Not here, not my beautiful and innocent Aotearoa!
It wasn't until I moved to NZ and began performing an endless number of gap analyses between how I thought and felt versus how my new countrymen thought and felt, that I realised just how shockingly de-sensitised I was to violence. It honestly made me quite ashamed of myself, but I can hardly be blamed for assuming the condition of the culture in which I was raised (thought I could be blamed if I choose to stay in that mindset). As I read the emerging news out of Christchurch, a word popped into my head and I began to cry: Innocence.

Without realising it, I've been fiercely protective of the idea that NZ is innocent. A safe, accepting, even at times naive, place where bad things simply don't happen. Hell, even the birds are flightless because of the lack of predators! New Zealand has been a refuge since Jesus was a baby, and I've felt that sanctuary since I arrived just over four years ago. Why? Because Kiwis care. We care about our country, we care about our tourists enjoying its beauty, we care about our peoples' health and wellbeing, we care about our culture and Maoritanga, we care about not taking ourselves to seriously and having at laugh, and we care about the World and its livelihood as a whole.

The fear I felt that NZ would now become just another violent place made be absolutely heart-sick. If I thought this country would become just like the States, well, I can't even think about it; it's too painful. I experienced a strong need to preserve its innocence, protect it somehow; we can't allow this to change who we are as a Country.

2. A Kiwi Could NOT Have Done THIS
Likely flowing on from that profound need to safeguard what NZ means to me, my first and immediate thought was 'a Kiwi did not do this,' I was absolutely certain. I honestly didn't believe a Kiwi capable, so desperately did I cling to what I know of the gorgeous people I now feel blessed to call my brothers and sisters. Though I'm not proud to admit it, I was consequently relieved to hear that the first gunman police took into custody was an Aussie. A sigh of relief actually escaped my lips.

The fact is that what happened is a tragic violation of humanity no matter who did it or where they're from. My own prejudice only reflects the kind of thinking which perpetuates cycles of hatred, creating an 'us' and 'them' distinction that does not serve the World in a loving way. What I, with the remnants of my American-ness, felt was something that my Kiwi countrymen don't often experience. After staunchly demanding they 'pull their f*$#-ing head in,' it is their instinct to express compassion, both for the attackers as well as the attacked, nationality aside. Wisely, though they may be upset about what happened, they understand hating who did this based on race makes no sense. This is but one reason I am continually humbled and grateful to live here among such inspirational people.

3. The Silver Lining: A New Definition for 'Terrorism'
The first thing I noticed this morning was that the news was calling this a terrorist attack. It may sound strange, but I was over-joyed that we chose to label it as such, and without missing a beat I felt hope. The hope of re-defining that phrase. After 9/11 terrorism and terrorist attacks became synonymous with Al Qaeda, the Taliban, and sadly, with Islam. Now, NZ is turning that interpretation completely on its head by using it to describe a disgusting assault on our beloved Muslim population. The terrorists have become the terrorised. My wish is that the World likewise expand its definition, tossing aside the 'Us' and 'Them' mentality of old that keeps us segregated as Humans.

If I know nothing else, I know that this country and culture of the most genuinely kind and caring people I've ever had the pleasure to live amongst will not allow this to fill our hearts with hate. We will hug and love our muslim brothers and sisters tighter, we will grieve with them, we will protect them. We will set a new precedent for the world, so that everyone may see what healing from a terrorist attack looks like, by caring for all our people; integration, not exclusion. Critically, and unlike the States, our PMs reaction is to restrict gun laws in light of this tragedy, not arm every man, woman and child out of fear. Yes, we will show the World a different way, a more compassionate way. I have never been more proud to be a Kiwi then I am now, nor more validated in my life choice to join a culture of kindness.

New Zealand is a place of love and acceptance. Kiwis don't need laws to tell us we are free. Our freedom is in the way we remain kind to each other no matter how we look, how we sound, or what we believe.