Grieving Xinjiang

Grief has a way of bringing up old regrets. Those places and times and people that we can never have back. As a way to feel better, we tell ourselves, “I will never take that for granted again.” We promise to do more to reach out to the people we love.

Grief hit me like a ton of bricks one night. I was listening to the CECC Congressional Testimony on forced labor and mass internment in Xinjiang. As soon as I heard "Urumchi” being pronounced in Uyghur, my chest tightened. A knife dug into my heart and I couldn’t breathe for a moment. That word, “Urumchi”--the name of the city where I lived from 2014-2017--took me back.

The memories from Xinjiang flooded my vision. My body rocked with grief like I was trying to dry-heave the memories out of me. But they stayed.

I grieve the love that I came to know in Xinjiang. The love that connected me to the people I met there. The love that flowed and vibrated between us as static pulses of energy. I grieve the laughter and sadness and the talks and exchanges we shared.

I gave them two years of my life. I wish I could give more.

I will give more.

That experience changed me. To experience that love and openness between people from two different cultures and languages and backgrounds. I vow to never take love and energy for granted again.

I just hope the people of Xinjiang know how much they meant to me. I wish I had told them more. I wish I had told them every day how awesome they are and how much they helped me, and how much I love them, and how much they mean to me. You can’t say that enough. And now I have no way of telling them that. This is what grief teaches us—that we can do better next time.

Tell people how much they mean to you.

Tell people how awesome they are.

Trust that they know how much they meant to you.

Trust to know how much you meant to them.

The Uyghurs and Han that I met in Xinjiang: I will love you more than you will ever know.

The dissertation I wrote about my experiences is important, but what is even more important is keeping alive the love that will prevent this—gross human rights violations and genocide—from happening again.

We have the power to change the world. Little by little, through every interaction we have. The more we connect and care and love, and the less we drown ourselves in our phones and screens, the more we can help make people feel loved and included and cared for. Then the less this kind of stuff—racism and hatred that keeps people locked up—will happen. We can change the world, one piece at a time, one day at a time, one person at a time, one smile at a time.

Your presence makes a difference. You can invoke change in the world through ripples. We touch lives every day and it’s the little things that matter.

We can and will make a difference by recognizing we are all one in the universe.