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One of the most consequential things that happens when you survive a genocide is that any pretense of cosmopolitanism, universalism, or altruism falls away. You come to understand that what marks you, what makes you a target, is something you can neither change nor escape: the skin you were born into and must live in. Ideology ceases to matter. Beliefs lose their weight. In the end, it is about your tribe. Those who defend you, who risk their lives alongside yours, who endure and survive with you, they are your tribe. Everyone else is, at best, an outsider. The familiar categories - left, right, all of it - collapse under the pressure of a single fact: another group has mobilized everything it has to destroy you. And in that process, more often than not, you are alone. If you survive, that solitude does not simply disappear. It lingers, whether you are fortunate or unfortunate enough to carry survival with you.