#AcidAttacks #Iran #MySister

Dear Sister, the news was so devastating that I found myself staring at the mirror for long minutes, imagining how would I have felt if I was in your shoes.

Oh sister, it is unlikely to have seen you around; we live in different cities after all. I’ve probably never seen you in supermarkets, coffee shops, at the movies or while we are at the hair salon waiting for our hairs’ to be washed and brushed, talking about our lives and our society; but seeing you yesterday on the news was as if I had seen you before.

Back to reality; when I saw you, when I heard what had happened to you, I started staring at myself; staring and thinking: "how would have my life be if I was her? Would anyone care to look at me anymore? Would my husband love me the way he had loved me before?"

Did you ask yourself the same questions? Did you also had the jitters for your loved ones emotions?

Or did the pain of the liquid scattered at your face and body was so unbearable that the rest seemed irrelevant?

I have been reading the news five times a day everyday, for the past few years and somehow I think that by reading how ugly our world has turned out to be, I have blocked my emotions. And even worst, I have been telling myself that this emotional "immunity" is what my job requires. Isn’t that silly?

A year ago someone told me that the media is screwing our society; "how so?" I asked. "You open a newspaper and the headline is, for example, "women and children killed in massacre in Syria," and then on the same page it says, "giant panda gives birth to triplets," it is as if they are trying to dehumanize what is happening in battle fields and in general, in the world. At least that’s how I see it!”

She got me wondering, (don’t get me wrong, I got upset at first; after all our colleagues and friends risk their lives everyday to make sure people get the first hand news, and someone dares to say that journalists and the media are the evil?) but still she got me wondering, are we really doing that? has the media become an instrument to downplay what is important? Am I, as a part of this outlet, downplaying what has happened to you sister by referencing you as the third person, someone who has been the victim, period?

“Being objective is an important part of being a journalist”, my professor once said. But I'm still human aren't I? I have cried and laughed so many times when I read the news, so I wonder, does that mean that I’m a bad journalist? Am I throwing away my professionalism by letting my feelings get the best of me?

Oh my sister, with all that being said, how can I write neutrally about your pain? The pain that is tearing you apart and is closer than ever to each and one of us. This fear, this dreadful reality is something that I cannot bear.

But my sister, what have I done to ease your pain? Have I showed you enough support? Have I done anything to show you how much I care and how devastating the news was? Your beauty and your youth have gone away, so has my beliefs and faith; and I know that my guilty conscience is not enough for you dear sister.

I read the news on a Saturday morning: "A 27- year- old woman was attacked with acid in Isfahan." First reaction: we are the same age, and you won't even know that. But over the past few days I have learned so much about you. I know that you are a delightful person who cares about the people around her and tries to help them with any means she can. Even if that means bringing clothing to a girl whose father is in prison. Second reaction: What is happening to us? Has morality changed meanings to something that I’m not familiar with?

Oh dear sister I only know your name, your desire to help others and with a broken heart, your new scars that you will carry with you from now on. I don’t know whether you are religious or not, whether you believe in heaven and hell; and to be honest, I don’t even care. I don’t care about how you dress or how you act, if you are in a “white marriage” relationship or not, these all seem redundant now, so does everything else, except your youth and your stolen beauty.

Sister, I’ve heard that you try to stay strong, that every inch of your being is fighting. I praise you because of that. I also praise you for being you, who ever you are. And I hope one day your name would be remembered in our books, as a hero that you are. You have giving courage and morality a new meaning; a meaning that needs to be hashtagged from now on.