May 12, 2004

• A Soundtrack for Jihad

  My life has a soundtrack.  It plays in my head where only I can
  hear it.  There is always one song or another running through
  there.  Sometimes they are ad jingles–I hate when that happens,
  but I know that it’s the catchiness of such things that makes them so
  effective as advertizing.  Often, the songs in my head develop a
  new set of words as the original work of the lyricist gets distorted by
  my twisted mind.  Other times, it’s the very words of the song and
  its appropriateness to the times that brings them to mind.  This
  morning I woke with two songs mingled in my mind, and I can hear the
  voices of their authors plain as can be.  What a strange duet–and
  yet they harmonize quite well.

  With God on our Side
  
  by Bob Dylan
  
  
  Oh my name it is nothin’
  
  My age it means less
  
  The country I come from
  
  Is called the Midwest
  
  I’s taught and brought up there
  
  The laws to abide
  
  And that land that I live in
  
  Has God on its side.
  
  
  
  Oh the history books tell it
  
  They tell it so well
  
  The cavalries charged
  
  The Indians fell
  
  The cavalries charged
  
  The Indians died
  
  Oh the country was young
  
  With God on its side.
  
  
  
  Oh the Spanish-American
  
  War had its day
  
  And the Civil War too
  
  Was soon laid away
  
  And the names of the heroes
  
  I’s made to memorize
  
  With guns in their hands
  
  And God on their side.
  
  
  
  Oh the First World War, boys
  
  It closed out its fate
  
  The reason for fighting
  
  I never got straight
  
  But I learned to accept it
  
  Accept it with pride
  
  For you don’t count the dead
  
  When God’s on your side.
  
  
  
  When the Second World War
  
  Came to an end
  
  We forgave the Germans
  
  And we were friends
  
  Though they murdered six million
  
  In the ovens they fried
  
  The Germans now too
  
  Have God on their side.
  
  
  
  I’ve learned to hate Russians
  
  All through my whole life
  
  If another war starts
  
  It’s them we must fight
  
  To hate them and fear them
  
  To run and to hide
  
  And accept it all bravely
  
  With God on my side.
  
  
  
  But now we got weapons
  
  Of the chemical dust
  
  If fire them we’re forced to
  
  Then fire them we must
  
  One push of the button
  
  And a shot the world wide
  
  And you never ask questions
  
  When God’s on your side.
  
  
  
  In a many dark hour
  
  I’ve been thinkin’ about this
  
  That Jesus Christ
  
  Was betrayed by a kiss
  
  But I can’t think for you
  
  You’ll have to decide
  
  Whether Judas Iscariot
  
  Had God on his side.
  
  
  
  So now as I’m leavin’
  
  I’m weary as Hell
  
  The confusion I’m feelin’
  
  Ain’t no tongue can tell
  
  The words fill my head
  
  And fall to the floor
  
  If God’s on our side
  
  He’ll stop the next war.

  
  
  Imagine
  
  by John Lennon
  
  
  
  Imagine there’s no heaven’
  
  It’s easy if you try’
  
  No hell below us’
  
  Above us only sky’
  
  Imagine all the people
  
  living for today…
  
  
  
  Imagine there’s no countries’
  
  It isnt hard to do’
  
  Nothing to kill or die for’
  
  No religion too’
  
  Imagine all the people
  
  living life in peace…
  
  
  
  Imagine no possesions’
  
  I wonder if you can’
  
  No need for greed or hunger’
  
  A brotherhood of man’
  
  Imagine all the people
  
  Sharing all the world…
  
  
  
  You may say Im a dreamer’
  
  but Im not the only one’
  
  I hope some day you’ll join us’
  
  And the world will live as one.

  I have been getting some very gratifying comments to my recent series
  of blogs about atrocities and man’s inhumanity to man.  Current
  events weigh heavily on me and it eases the load some to know that my
  venting strikes harmonious chords with some of you.  This from HighDesertLola makes a very personal sort of sense to me:

  Part
  of me is chuckling at the Isreali gum and some of the examples the
  press used about Isreali women. I guess it reminds me of some of the
  reports that came out during feminisms coming out in the US. One thing
  that I also must say is that I am always happy that people see that a
  womans plight anywhere, whether it be Africa, middle east, down the
  block, is all womens plight. But sometimes I worry that in our model of
  what women should be able to do we don’t see that we have our own
  conceptions of what other women want. The hijab is a good example. I
  know many women in the US who are veiled and do so out of thier own
  choice yet I see so many people question if that is really freedom. I
  guess my thought really is that I would love if that our work in
  freeing women, and people, around the world that we make sure that we
  honor thier customs and choices and not just think that blue jeans and
  a t-shirt are the answer.

  I have often wished I lived in a veiled society–not where I would be
  cloistered and suppressed, but where how I look would not affect how
  others judged me.  I’ve been interrupted in the middle of a
  serious monologue by someone saying, “Your freckles are so cute!” 
  And my hair–don’t get me started on the hair!  The bandana in my
  profile pic, or another one much like it, is on my head whenever I’m up
  and about.  To accomodate headphones, I push it up and back a bit.
  The primary purposes of the head rag are to absorb sweat and keep the
  hair out of my eyes and mouth and off my neck.  My hairstyle (if
  wash and wear hair allowed to grow until the wearer can no longer stand
  it can be called, “style”) has remained unchanged since I finally got
  fed up with the necessity for either cutting the stuff frequently or
  living with cow-licked bangs as they grew out.  That was 1974, my
  last real haircut.  Since then, when it gets so long it catches in
  my armpit and pulls when I turn over in bed, I get it trimmed.  I
  tell the person cutting it to leave it long enough that it will stay
  behind my ears when I tuck it back there.

  When I started wearing the bandanas all the time the purpose was
  utilitarian.  I had no thought at the time of “hiding” my
  hair.  It was only later on that I realized I got less of the
  unwanted attention when the hair was covered up.  The fact that my
  temper and my libido conform to the redheaded stereotype is
  irrelevant.  I was still a young woman when I got fed up with
  having my hair being the first thing anyone noticed about me.  For
  many men it seemed to be the only thing they noticed.  It was at
  least the only thing they commented on:  “Red on the head like the
  dick on a dog.”  Sheeeesh!  Where the hell did that saying
  come from?  Let’s find out and send it back, eh?  When I was
  a little girl, my cheeks would blush flaming red every time I heard it,
  embarrassing me even further.

  Men are not the only ones who can be boorish bores about my hair. 
  A few years ago on a visit to my former mother-in-law, her
  sister-in-law was visiting too.  It was the holiday season and
  we’d both been there as houseguests a few days when the SIL spoke up
  with something that had apparently been eating at her for a
  while:  “Why do you keep that pretty hair covered up all the
  time?”  She accompanied the words with a touch, a fluffing gesture
  to the ends of my hair.  I tried to cut her some slack.  I
  knew she was retired from a career in cosmetology.  Then she went
  on to say something about how attractive I’d be with the hair
  styled.  I’d been around her long enough by then to know that I’d
  be wasting breath if I tried to explain that I’m a married woman
  uninterested in “attracting” men or women.  She obviously was
  envious of my naturally red naturally wavy hair, and I opted not to
  enlighten her about the downside of a lifetime lived under that
  crowning glory.  Maybe she desires it strongly enough to trigger
  the Karma trap and will be reborn as a redhead.  That’ll fix her.

  So… if there’s any point to this at all, I guess my point is that if
  the Muslims win the Jihad I’ll fight to the death for women’s rights,
  but I won’t fight the veil.
  

  • 11:22 am
  • 8 Comments