On Boston

For all the gruesome shock and horror associated with the bombings yesterday, I can’t help but keep thinking about the young man, injured from the bombs, who was, for a while, the only “suspect” anyone in America knew about- the “young Saudi national”. The press was clearly under some pressure to release something amidst the chaos, lest they cause a panic or lose their credibility altogether (after all, everyone in the media wants to be the first and loudest). Otherwise I don’t think we would’ve heard about this “young Saudi national”, who went from being a “person of interest” to a “suspect” to a victim in something like 18 hours, or less maybe. And he’s a victim of the bombings like all the other victims who were rushed to the hospital to be treated, a marathon runner among the thousands that ran and the 123 injured, except for that he was called into questioning, or in custody, or something (we’ll probably never be sure). Because he’s also a victim of racial profiling.

Can you even begin to imagine? On top of the chaos of the race and the bomb and the shrapnel in your body and the hospital- to be insulted by a disgusting and ungrounded accusation by someone somewhere, and then pressed to answer questions about it. Meanwhile, your roommate is being interrogated at your home and the chorus of national news media is citing a new alias for you every minute – “unidentified Saudi national” “young Saudi male” “Saudi Arabian student”… “suspect”. All while you recover from wounds sustained from an explosion at an athletic competition.

It’s incredible to me.

Amy Davidson at The New Yorker does a better job than me at articulating any thought that goes through my head, her piece is magnificent:

It might be comforting to think of this as a blip, an aberration, something that will be forgotten tomorrow—if not by this young man. There are people at Guanátanmo who have also been cleared by our own government, and are still there… The F.B.I. said that they would “go to the ends of the earth” to get the Boston perpetrators. One wants them to be able to go with their heads held high.”


The worst decision in recent memory

This cannot be a good idea. Besides, when do I ever act on impulse? There is no track record of this working out in my favor.

In any case, world, I regret to inform you that meenaswim is taking up another small corner of the Internet. Perhaps this will be a quieter, more isolated place than the Twittersphere or Facebook, where people aren’t jockeying for attention quite as much. Maybe I’ll write things to an audience of strangers and not be totally ashamed.

Or, more likely, I’ll one day regret everything I have ever posted on this website (and any other).

… and now, I have spent 24 minutes writing an introduction to a blog that doesn’t really exist yet. So it begins. Ahhhh, I can taste the guilt already.


(for those who are still reading, here is an “Introduction” by Voxtrot that is truly beautiful and has nothing in common with mine)