You Too Could Raise a Terrorist

Aside from the obvious ploy with a controversial title, this post isn’t meant to infuriate you, but I know it could. Which is why it has sat in my “draft” folder for a while.

When the two men in Boston were identified as young immigrants from Chechnya, I thought about the lives they must have led there. If you have read about the conflict there, it is inconceivable to most native born Americans what life there is like. I’m not going to take up space with a civics lesson, but let’s just say the Soviet Union’s collapse didn’t make everyone suddenly hold hands and sing hymns.

And what that kind of environment does to the human mind and spirit is unimaginable for most of us.

The younger one is the same age as my Gorgeous Gal. And the one picture of him seemingly everywhere seemed to show his eyes so full of pain. The same kind of pain I saw in my foster son’s eyes as he tried to kill my dog and threatened to kill me.

It is terrifying and- once you feel safe again- heartbreaking.

All that pain is going to go somewhere. It is going to burrow inside and fester into depression or hate and rage. Maybe not so much to be a terrorist. Maybe just enough to wound a dog. Or beat a child.

It is also possible for it to be carefully treated with the right kind of mix of education, therapy, love and patience to be released and healed. But that kind of treatment is very difficult and not always sought. Or available.

I found myself thinking about their mother. And that she cradled those boys and probably sang to them. And she worried for them. And she dreamed for them. She dreamed of safety and peace for them.

They had to get out. There had to be a way for a better life. And yet it wasn’t enough to save those boys from what they had all ready seen. It didn’t make them impervious to corrupted thoughts and extremist propaganda.

And it could happen to any of us.

And to our children.

We are all one race and to look upon those men and see them as unhuman (inhumane is a different thing) is a grave mistake.

If we dismiss them as something we are not- or could never be- then we miss the opportunity to find an answer to the whys and hows.

And within those answers, I believe are solutions.

Cures.

I have felt hate and rage. I have wished people dead. No, I haven’t done anything to make my wish come true, but the point I want to make is we are all one race with the exact same continuum for thought, feelings, action and inaction. Some of us go too much one way or another as a result of our chemistry, early exposure to violence and trauma and ongoing life choices and experiences.

And the extremes can result in Darkness. Pain. Tragedy. Horror.

I hate what happened in Boston. I hate what happened to my five year old foster son to make him want to break the shower door, pick up the glass and kill me while I slept. I hate what happened in Chechnya to develop a mind capable of such acts.

And I ache for the mother of those two men. And for the mother who lost her son in Boston. And the woman who wasn’t a mother. And the mother who lost her legs.

Because I am a mother too. And it could be me. Or mine. Or you. Or yours.

And my mother’s heart prays for us All.

12 Comments

  1. Kate Hinke

    Charise, this is beautiful and heartbreaking . . . and truth. A truth of which we all need to be reminded, right now and forever and always. Thank you.

  2. Wow. You are so right. We like to feel separate and superior, but that’s delusional when we operate along “the exact same continuum,” as you say. I’ve been thinking about this since our Lifetree Café is addressing the 2006 event, where a bereaved man killed ten Amish girls. His mother (who is interviewed for our conversation café) remains utterly horrified and perplexed at what he did, his actions so far from his background and normal personality. (“Why didn’t I see it coming? Where did I go wrong?”) And yet, the Amish were determined to do the hard work of practical, not just verbal, forgiveness. Thank you for sharing your own difficult story, Charise.
    http://ltcpaloalto.com/wp/2013/04/23/amazing-grace-art-of-forgiveness/

  3. This is great Charise. And really captures how I feel as a mother and how I know most of my fellow “mother friends” feel. It’s just a shame though because there are some not so good things surfacing about this particular mother and I saw her interviewed where she stated the bombing was made up and the blood was paint. But I think she is in the minority as a mother. I was baffled by her response and saw no remorse. It is the first time I have not felt for a mother of a child who did something so horrific. Most often my heart aches for those parents.

  4. Charise

    Sometimes we have to think about her being a child too. I read a good article about how parents respond to news of their children’s terrible acts. Trauma response is unfathomable (to me). The article I read compared this mother of the bombers to one of the mothers of the Columbine shooters. DENIAL. Thank you for being a faithful reader.

  5. I agree with your thoughtful and heart-felt words, and I appreciate you sharing them.
    I have a foster grandson, 19 now, who brandished many a kitchen knife at my husband and me in his younger days. Thankfully, his amazing foster mom never gave up nor did we, and today he is going to college classes and has an apartment of his own. His past was a mixture of Asperger’s Syndrome, abandonment, and group homes! Without his mom taking him in, who knows what he would have done! I had many thoughts like yours about how terrorists get to the point of acting on their hate. It is such a sad situation: pain leading to pain! I do not say that the perpetrators are not at fault or should go unpunished, I just say that it is sad all around.

    • Charise

      Thank you for sharing, Mary. I think the reality of foster parenting- the hard and the heroics- is often overlooked. And with perpetrators of violence, they are at fault and should be punished. We can feel compassion and seek justice all at the same time. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts. It means a lot.

  6. Pingback: Miracles in the Rearview Mirror | Prayers and Cocktails with Charise Olson

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