My birthday was two days ago. Marking seventeen years of life. The anniversary of my country’s ongoing war is today. Marking one full year of death. Death of my land. Death of my people. Death of my culture. Death of my history. One whole year marking the death of the largest parts of my identity.

I have watched as people continue to ignorantly consume products and propaganda from governments that have participated in the destruction of my own country. I have watched people turn a blind eye to our oppression because it makes them uncomfortable.

My apologies. How dare our suffering inconvenience you? How dare we ask that you no longer purchase goods that fund our abuse? 

I no longer know if my children will ever have the opportunity to step foot on the land that birthed them. I no longer know if I will have that same opportunity again.

My dream was to go back to Sudan. To build a house I could  raise my children in. To build a garden I could feed us from. To build a life I could enjoy. I am scared for my dream to die with my country. 

By Sujude M. Hassan