The raising allegory

All people are the same but some are samer.
same, samer, the samest.
pale, paler, the palest.
white, whiter, the whitest.
Black, blacker, the blackest.
Steps of racism.
A bit racist is the same as a bit pregnant.
Literally impossible.
Racist, Nazi, Hitler would be the right comparison.
But no one wants to join in.

Mirror, mirror in my hand,
what’s wrong with my land?
Mirror, mirror on the wall
who is the most racist one of all?
The fairy tale of equality.

A bad asylum seeker! Deport him? Clearly!
When THEY – THESE PEOPLE – become criminal, it seems obvious.
We have to protect especially the women.
Our women.
I’m a woman but to put a rapist, a person with thoughts of violence, onto woman in another country?
To send a murderer to another country and let him keep murdering there?
No. No! People who happen to be outside of my focus are not worth less than those who are.

Some people seem more important than others.
Important, more important, the most important.
Safe, safer, the safest.
Wrong, wronger, the wrongest.
A Syrian baby and a German baby.
I can save just one.
Which one do I save?
Can I decide its value? No.
But I have two arms. I can take both.
Both are looking in my eyes with childlike innocence.
I can feel something inside of me, something everyone on this world should feel:
Love. A feeling of responsibility.
And I whisper to both of them:

“You might not look the same,
your voices are different,
you both need different things.
But in my heart I love you the same.
My love is the same.”

Funda Doğhan

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