Today marks the 70th anniversary of the world’s first atomic bomb being dropped on Hiroshima, Japan. On the sixth of August every year, people in Hiroshima gather at the Peace Memorial Park to mourn those who died as a result of “Little Boy.” Most of the major news publications posted articles with coverage from Hiroshima, as well as reminders of what actually happened. I was listening to a BBC podcast discussing those who were comparing coverage of the Hiroshima bombing around that very time seventy years ago, and they noted how the U.S. government refused to show photo or video coverage of the actual victims who affected and/or died during the bombing; they would only show remains of buildings, as though the bombing killed no one. It removed all humanness from the bombing, and none of the photos or details of the effects of the people were released until the 1980s in the U.S. As someone who has had the privilege to visit Hiroshima recently and actually visit the museum that has extremely detailed photos and documentation from the bombing, I felt so angry being reminded of this.
The BBC News podcast I listened to also mentioned a survivor of the bombing who has traveled to the U.S. to speak out about the atrocity and continued effects on the few remaining survivors to this day. She is now in her late 80s, but she says she feels compelled to continue speaking about the event publicly so that people remain aware… because if she doesn’t do it, who else will?
Oddly, it made me think about my American Prevention for Suicide Prevention donor drive that I am doing for the second time this year in honor of Ed. Last year, I was so overwhelmed in the beginning with the outpouring of support I received, even from those I didn’t even think would care, in the form of words and extremely generous donations. This year, I sent out an email with my story to those who had already donated last year, as well as a subset of my colleagues. The donations have been slow to trickle in, which made me feel disappointed. Is it because I already did this last year, and so therefore it’s not as touching or “new” to people? Are they going to get tired thinking, is she really going to do this every year, and does she really expect us to donate every single year?
Cynically, then I thought, it’s like the way Ed’s passing was handled. In the beginning, everyone seemed, at least superficially, concerned and like they wanted to be supportive. But as time went on, the care and the compassion little by little started to diminish. It’s back to the regular ways of life. Forget that ever happened! Back to normal! Well, perhaps back to normal for you, but it will never be back to “normal” for me. It’s grabbed everyone’s attention in the beginning, but we live in a society of short attention spans. Everyone cares… for just a little bit. And then, they either slow it down or just stop completely. But why can’t more of us have the attitude of that 80-something-year-old atom bomb survivor in Hiroshima? She works and continues doing what she does because she wants people to be aware. She doesn’t want the awareness to die. So what’s wrong with the rest of us? It’s just too much work, or too hard, right, or so the excuses go?
These are the moments I lose faith in society and those people around me, even the ones who say they love me and care about me. If you care about me, you care about the causes I care about — maybe not as deeply, but at least the core goal of them and what they are trying to achieve. If you don’t, then what are you trying to do and achieve in your life that is so much more important or better?