Dick Cheney died today. I’ve hated that man for over twenty years.
My initial reaction to the news was something like: Fuck him. Motherfucker sent me to fuck up a buncha brown people’s lives just so his buddies could make a buck. I’m glad he’s dead.
I don’t remember exactly when I put it all together. Because military recruitment was difficult, to achieve success in Iraq, it was important to use private contractors to fill the gaps. That’s what I was told. Learning the contractors were earning 10x the pay still felt like a punch in the gut though. Was my life worth 10x less? Some of the contractors seemed to think so.
Many of the people I deployed with signed up to be those contractors after we got back. I never blamed them. That kind of money sounded life changing. But I couldn’t help but ask myself, “If some truck driver over there made 10x my pay, what was his manager making? And his manager’s manager? If the lowest member of this private military contractor is making six figures, what is the CEO making?”
At some point, I learned that the contracting company was a subsidiary of Haliburton. Prior to becoming the Vice President, Dick Cheney had been Haliburton’s CEO. So, Dick Cheney’s successor and presumably friend got a nice paycheck from the Iraq war. We gotta justify these huge military contracts, afterall. Scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. Just gotta put some poor kids’ lives on the line in the process, that’s it. A poor kid like me.
Dick Cheney died today. I’ve hated him since I’ve returned from the desert. I disagree with him on how cheap my life is.
His death brings me no solace. In a few group chats today, I messaged that they need to hurry up and put him in his grave, cause I already got my dancing shoes on. I said I hope Satan is already poking him in the ass with a pitchfork in hell. I hate this man, and I want everyone to know it. Truth is, Dick Cheney’s death feels similar to the death of Osama bin Laden.
I remember walking my dog – RIP Pepper – and checking social media the night bin Laden died. The mood online was celebratory, elated. America’s greatest enemy had been found and killed and his body unceremoniously tossed out of a helicopter into the sea. And I felt nothing. I felt empty. Over 200,000 (but possibly as many as 1,000,000) Iraqis were dead. Friends of mine had been hurt. All of us had PTSD. And this man’s death did nothing to fix that. He never faced trial. He never had to confront his evil deeds. Some Navy Seal put a bullet in his head and then he was tossed out of a helicopter. That’s it. Many people online felt like justice had been done. I found no justice in it.
Dick Cheney died today. I’ve hated that man for over half my life. And I find no justice in it.
I don’t know Dick Cheney. I didn’t walk in his shoes. But I want empathy when people try to walk in mine. I don’t know what his relationship with his family was like, so maybe today people mourn him. But also maybe, he went to meet the Maker truly alone, unloved. Both are sad situations, and if I want to remember my humanity, it’s important I grab that fact and hold it as tightly as I possibly can. I must remember my empathy to remember my humanity. Because if I forget my humanity, then maybe one day it’s me sending poor kids to a war so my buddy can have a nice payday.
I am still so fucking angry with you, but rest in peace, Dick Cheney. Because I can’t have my peace until I let you have yours.