Dominic Anton

Gold Chain

1974-1975

The Kurdish rebellion unfolds in Iraq. My grandfather hears word from befriended military generals and government officials of political tension rising in the region. He comes home and tells his wife and children to pack their bags and they leave for America the next day. In America, Nixon resigns following the Watergate scandal. My grandfather, grandmother and their four children arrive in Detroit after waiting in Lebanon. 

1979

Saddam Hussein becomes the president of Iraq. Uncertainty travels through the country as a new era begins. Iranian militants seize the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, taking fifty-two American hostages for over four hundred days, contributing to Jimmy Carter’s defeat in the 1980s election. Michael Jackson breaks through as a solo artist with his album Off the Wall. In Chicago, people destroy disco records and riot, marking the decline of disco and a cultural shift into rock and punk. Meanwhile, my grandfather works at his liquor store day and night. His children are in school, harassed for their darker hair and non-American features. 

1980

Saddam Hussein begins to invade Iran, resulting in an eight-year war concluding with massive casualties and economic devastation in both neighboring countries. In December, John Lennon is shot and killed outside of his apartment building in New York City, shaking the world. CNN is launched by Ted Turner. Mount St. Helen erupts over Washington and Steve McQueen dies from cancer. 

1991

Iraq invades Kuwait, resulting in international condemnation. My grandfather and his siblings watch madness unfold from their televisions. Operation Desert Storm commences by the U.S. to drive Iraqi forces out of Kuwait. HIV is on the rise, brushed off as the “gay disease.” Freddie Mercury dies from AIDS in November. Grunge music and preppy styles are in. 

1994

I’m born. Kurt Cobain is found dead by self-inflicted gunshot. O.J. Simpson is arrested after a high-speed police chase and is tried for the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend, Ron Goldman. The Rwanda genocide erupts and thousands of people dance at Woodstock. 

2003

The U.S. begins to invade Iraq, lying to the public that Saddam Hussein’s regime possessed weapons of mass destruction. Photos of Iraqi civilians tortured by US troops later circulate on the internet. Images of abuse and bloodied bodies litter the streets of my family’s home city. No weapons are found. My parents watch the news as Saddam Hussein is captured by U.S. forces in an underground bunker in Tikrit. I’m in school, harassed for being gay. MySpace is launched and Madonna and Britney Spears kiss at the VMAs, making headlines as more Iraqi civilians are slaughtered. I’m harassed again for being gay. 

2006

I’m twelve years old. My friend shows me on his new flip phone a video of Saddam Hussein being executed while we’re on the school bus. Sectarian violence in Iraq begins to escalate after the Al-Askari mosque in Samarra is bombed, resulting in violent conflicts between Sunni and Shia groups. My aunts and uncles become suspicious about my effeminate behavior and gossip to my mother who begins to ask what’s wrong with me. I close myself off from everyone and fall into depression for the next nine years.

2007 

I catch my father cheating on my mother with his nineteen-year-old employee. Green eyes, brown hair. I liked her until I put the pieces together. How they looked at each other, how they spoke to each other. My dad never thinking I’d be smart enough to realize. I tell my mother. George W. Bush initiates the surge strategy to address the violence and instability in Iraq, sending thousands of troops across the country. Daily bombings occur, civilians are caught in the crossfire. I come home to family portraits torn in the garbage and walls echoing the yells of my mother. Me and my sisters are taken away from my father and we stay with our grandparents. Britney Spears’ children are taken away from her and she suffers a depressive meltdown, shaving her head and mocked by the media. The Blackwater Incident occurs and USA security contractors open fire in a busy square in Baghdad, igniting outrage across the world and raising questions of America’s motives in the region.     

2011

The U.S. withdraws from Iraq, ending the war after nine years and leaving the country destabilized and broken with no goal fulfilled. Osama Bin Laden is killed in Pakistan. Mohamed Bouazizi sets himself on fire in Tunisia and The Arab Spring begins, spreading across north Africa and starting a civil war in Syria. Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak is forced to resign due to massive protests. Steve Jobs dies from cancer. Twitter and Facebook give rise to social media movements for the Arab Spring. Still in the fogs of depression, I discover narcotics and become addicted, rocked by the dark waves of near-death highs under the covers of my bed. I ended up in the hospital.     

2013-2014

I rush from my high school graduation to have my grandmother, withering from breast cancer, see me in my cap and gown in her final moments. My mother gives me my grandmother’s gold chain with a medallion of the Virgin Mary. I’m in denial over her death and start skipping school with friends and smoking weed. The Camp Speicher Massacre occurs in Iraq and over a thousand Shia cadets are slaughtered in rows. Back in America, the Ferguson protests rage in the streets. My family moves to the west coast of Florida and I move alone to Miami for university. Over in Syria, a young journalist named Ruqia Hassan posts online about the oppressive forces and crimes of the newly formed group, ISIS. In her Facebook profile picture, she boldly wears makeup with a look of fearlessness in her eyes. She gains a following.

2015

The Defense of Marriage Act is ruled as unconstitutional and same sex marriage is legalized. I quietly celebrate with myself, wondering if I would ever even get married one day. The Syrian Civil War rages and blood leaks through the screen of my iPhone from civilian deaths. Refugees from Iraq and Syria flee to Europe, sparking debates on immigration policies. David Bowie passes away from cancer in New York City. Ruqia Hassan is abducted by ISIS and never seen again.

2017

Hurricane Irma creeps towards the west coast of Florida. I cry in a hospital bathroom, forced to leave my mother with a spinal infection by herself in her bed. I go back home and take another pill, floating between conscious and unconscious states, numbing my concern while the hurricane rips around me. The MeToo movement gains momentum after the allegations of Harvey Weinstein are reported. Donald Trump is elected as president. ISIS is defeated in Mosul after thousands of civilians are killed. More blood leaks from my iPhone screen.

2021

Israel launches operations in Gaza, slaughtering thousands of civilians. More blood leaks through my screen. I’m in New York, yelling in the streets with thousands of others, protesting the killings and wondering to myself if our voices would ever be loud enough against the influence of Zionism over America. The Capitol Riot occurs and Donald Trump is banned from Twitter before Joe Biden gets elected in November, ushering in a new era.

2024

The Gaza genocide marks its first year. Over a hundred thousand people are slaughtered and seen again from my iPhone screen. After months of protests and boycotts, nothing changes. Israel bombs Lebanon, Yemen and Syria then calls itself a victim. Americans become divided during the election as Donald Trump is reelected. Climate change is exacerbated by months of bombings and hurricane after hurricane pummels Florida. It’s November and I’m in L.A., I just turned thirty. I sit under the canopy of trees in Griffith by myself, contemplating the decline of culture and reminiscing in the nostalgia of innocent days with my grandparents, secretly grateful that they’re not here anymore to witness the current state of the world. There was a fire of life within me in my early twenties, a fire that’s been extinguished and I don’t know what put out the flame, but I can’t write my way out of insanity anymore. I close my eyes and rest my head against the tree, holding my gold chain between my fingers.