Well over two weeks ago, 234 Nigerian girls were kidnapped in the middle of the night. Boko Haram militants seized them and fled to the dense forests that border Cameroon.
"Their parents don't know whether they are about to be murdered, or used as sex slaves, or about to be trafficked into other countries," said Gordon Brown to The Guardian.
234 babies were kidnapped.
234 sisters were kidnapped.
234 daughters were kidnapped.
234 Malias and Sashas were kidnapped.
Why "Malias and Sashas?" Because they're black?
Um, no. But very astute observation.
Malia and Sasha because they are our nation's girls. They're our First Girls, our First Daughters, our First Lil' Ladies. Whether or not you like the President and his administration, you know who Malia and Sasha are. You've watched them grow up.
I'm going to wager that no American knows any of these Nigerian girls. But the hashtag for this story has become #BringBackOurGirls. Because if there is anything that unites the human race, it's the act of raising children. The joy you feel, bringing that baby in the world. The fear that seizes you the first time something bad happens to her.
Can you imagine the terror of these parents? I urge you to try. Sit with it. Imagine. Imagine what that's like to have your daughter taking her finals one day, and kidnapped the next. Sold for $12. That's the price of three Starbucks lattes, a pair of sunglasses, a manicure.
Our girls are worth more than $12.
Many people commenting on the story say, "It's awful. But what can I do?"
No one is asking you to hop on the next plane to Nigeria and take to the forests with a search party. But please: don't throw up your hands in defeat, shrug your shoulders, and immediately move on.
Take five minutes. Five minutes to share their story, to read Wendy's post and sign petitions, to say a prayer for these girls- these children- and their families.
Malia Obama: age 16.
The same age as the abducted Nigerian girls. Chances are, everyone knows a girl (friend, family member, neighbor) that age. Imagine her there one day, and gone the next. Imagine the worst things possible.
And then stop imagining. And start sharing.
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