Quetta Killings...

Michael Jackson sang “It don’t matter if you’re black or white,” back in 1991 and the world listened with open ears, but today, on this rapidly progressing planet, where we claim contentedly that we have moved on from petty things such as discrimination, it still does matter. So the world’s glaring, discriminating spotlight may have moved on from devouring the darker-skinned, to a tastier, easier-to-obtain-meal: the innocents of the Shia Community.

 This discrimination lurks in the cold hearts of those who fire at unsuspecting mourners, hangs in the air over peaceful gatherings, is intermingled with the mist from the breath of families that have been braving sub-zero temperatures for four days now, clutching the bodies of their husbands, their brothers, their children, waiting for some humanity to stir in the hearts of those that have the power to make a difference…

Each one of these people shrouded under white cloth is a martyr. Each of their lives was mercilessly brought to a bloody end by fanatics. Each of them deserves the grandest of funerals, with white lilies and speeches and 21-gun salutes in their honor. 

Not a sad, silent vigil with their corpses flashed across live TV, their grief-stricken families having to resort to a camp-out just to ensure that the government will not let this happen to what sons are left, what men will dare to wear the black attire and mourn the grandson of the Prophet (PBUH) what women, followers of the Prophet's (PBUH)  progeny, dare to leave their houses wearing black shalwar kameez and attend lectures honoring the grandson of the Holy Prophet. 

You cried for Newtown, when the children were mercilessly shot dead. You cried for a little blonde girl, in a pink dress. You cried for the memories she missed. You cried for the birthdays she would have celebrated, the graduations, the weddings, the life that was wiped out in a microsecond by a volley of bullets. How are the children who lie in those coffins tonight, in the open air, unburied, not given dignity in the last rituals of life any different? They had their lives ahead of them as well. These brown-skinned, brown-haired children were innocent too. They had birthdays they would have celebrated, Eids they would have enjoyed, cricket games they would have played on the open roads, bangles they would have bought and worn sparkling on their skinny wrists, smiles they would have shared and laughter they would have spread. 

How have they been honored? America has made sure that the children of Newtown live on, perhaps in the countless articles written about them on all major news networks, in the makeshift memorials, with flowers and loving notes, or in the words of Obama’s speech as he vowed to rewrite American laws on gun control to prevent any more little Jessicas, Dylans or Maxes dying at the hands of gunmen. 

How is our government honoring our Alis, Abbases and Fatimahs? Have our leaders provided our minorities with the protection they are entitled to, as plain citizens at least? Are promises being made to safeguard the lives of those who are left? How many more of us dying will it take for the government to wake up and make a move! Can you imagine the pain of a mother who sits in the freezing cold, surrounded by the bodies of her four sons? All she wants is protection for those who are left- a guarantee that her son’s blood hasn’t been spilt in vain. 

You might be miles away from the nearest gathering, but there is so much you can do to support her, not as a Muslim or even a Shia, but as a mother yourself, as a plain simple human being. Spread the word. If you’re in a position of influence, I beg you, use that influence to pledge support for the endangered species that are Shias.

Because in their minds, here’s what it comes down to:

It don't matter if you're black or white. But it matters if you’re Shia.