If you're like me you might have just scrolled through the news, listened to some talk radio about Washington or maybe read about Nuclear Terrorism and thought to yourself, 'Wow the world is probably going to end any day now-- I need to book my Six Flag tickets today.'

Why do bad things happen to good people? How are we supposed to fight hate? Racism? Violence? Murder? Terrorism? Why did I have to miss Target's Black Friday sale last year? Feel like crawling in a hole yet?

As you may of noticed at your Aunt's place last Christmas, human beings aren't fans of being uncomfortable. We try to avoid an uncomfortable topic or situation, sometimes not even directly effecting us because we have a natural tendency to " try and not think about it." In fact, a study done at the University of Virginia found that people would rather be, "electrically shocked than left alone with their thoughts" (Whitehead:Science). Um.... can we at least try and keep it together people? I mean hey, I get it: how are we supposed to? How's a person able to actively contemplate some of the deepest horrors of/in the world, actively work on some type of solution for change, function, all the while-- still believing there is some type of light out of all this darkness?

This past year I studied abroad in Berlin, Germany. I was incredibly interested with their art scene, the fact that(at that time) they were the number one country in the EU accepting the highest number of refugees from various Middle Eastern countries and how they the country as a whole viewed this decision. I learned while there that from this decision, came a multitude of conflicting and complicated issues in allowing such a large influx of migrants into Germany, shaping the future of the country.

While there I took a course called, ‘Art and Dictatorship’. I learned about the Holocaust in the classic American grade school way of "Germans are evil and Americans are perfect" but being in the spaces where such the Holocaust took place, needless to say, was a completely different experience. The Holocaust textbooks need to be updated and say something like-- 'some of the worst things you can possibly imagine'. Interacting physically with the different spaces of where aspects of the Holocaust took place; going to concentration camps, speaking with Holocaust survivors, learning the stories, the immensity of lives lost, brought me to a place of understanding/coming to terms with the deep evil that human beings are capable of.

In my ‘Art and Dictatorship’ class at the Freie University of Berlin, my professor would ask us, “How does anyone heal from tragedies? Do we?” We went to countless memorials around Berlin created by artists: ‘Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe’, ‘The Missing House’ by Christian Boltanksi, ‘The Jewish Museum’ by Daniel Libeskind, to name a few. These artists created these works of art to begin to put back together/ make sense/ allow healing in the face of moving forward from the Holocaust. Art was a way to speak the language no one could. These works of art in Berlin were incredibly moving in finding a type of language to communicate such immense loss. Slowly through my studies, each expierence started to accumulate. I began to feel numb; the people, generations, that lost not only their lives but worlds---where was their conclusion or their justice?

In another course, ‘Islam and Europe’, we began to unpack the world of Refugees who are fleeing war and injustice in parts of the middle east. Incredibly inspired by this class, I began to volunteer at different refugee centers in Berlin. I began working with the children in the Refugee centers where they housed anywhere from 1,000-1,500 people. The kids I worked with ranged from 4-13 yrs old. We would draw pictures, paint, play music, dance, make different skits and make up plays. In the small and crowded play room the kids would make different toys that they were unable to purchase. I remember one 7 year old girl named Keia made a jump rope using a piece of string and putting a block in the center as a weight. Smart 7 year old-- am I right?

Each family at the center was sectioned off by four tall dividers that created a room with two cots. The kids would tell me different stories about the members of their family who they traveled with and the others who didn’t make it. I worked in the kitchen during meal times, with some of the adult refugees. Meal times got tense because there were a lot of people and food had to be rationed accordingly. I remember one specific time there was an argument over a woman wanting an extra banana. These people’s lives were put on pause, fleeing to another country leaving language, culture, family and friends. The stories of their journeys to Germany were incredibly moving, resilient and painful.

I remember leaving the center one night thinking about their stories-- the loss and struggle each one of them carry around everyday. I felt so deeply for all of these incredible people and wanted to figure out how to help them deal with such immense pain. I felt helpless and overwhelmed-- there were so many people I spoke to who believed Refugees shouldn’t even be allowed into the country-- where would they go? From learning about the holocaust  to working with the refugees, ?** EDIT-- How do we address such immensely depressing and destructive issues while still moving forward/ believing in the light of the the world?

As I continued to work with the refugees, I realized there was a language that wasn’t English, German, Arabic or Hebrew that was weaved into their lives: humor. These people turned and found laughter in some of the darkest realities. When the children spoke about different things they missed, lost, didn’t understand or feared--they made jokes and would laugh. We would create skits and short plays, where we would play different characters or animals that somehow always resulted in a storyline of a comedy. We would laugh at all the silly things we thought of that could take place in the skit, and each kid would continue to add something else to make the story even more absurd-- the more absurd, the more hilarious they found it. They would laugh over and over again at the same German episode of “SpongeBob Squarepants” that they loved. Some of the other people in the center would come watch the skits and laugh too. I remember one night sitting in the cafeteria with one of the mothers who told me, “You have to find the joy-- you have to find the laughter to get through this life”. I began to learn and see the dynamically powerful tool of humor that allowed for a type of coping mechanism. When everything felt so heavy, and was, so heavy-- the ability to turn to humor made something just a tiny bit lighter-- and that fraction of a moment made an impact because light was able to get in amidst the stark darkness.

How do we fight hate? How do we address such immensely depressing and destructive issues while still moving forward/ believing in the light of the the world? From this place of immense anguish, I began to see through the refugees I worked with, artists responding to the Holocaust, and even myself, the unique way humor allows a person to begin to grasp/process an overwhelming situation they find themselves in. Humor allows us to process these horrors of the world. By being able to deconstruct such circumstances and/or situations through the eyes of laughter, provides people the ability to process, speak and act about painful topics that need to be addressed.  Humor and horror can exist in the same space.