Dear France, God Is Coming For You
I always had an inferiority complex about being Lebanese. I didn't like that my soul chose this country and these people as my tribe. So I always wanted out.
Coming from a minority sect — a foreigner inside my own supposed origins — I spent my whole life wanting to belong. I knew eventually that it wasn't possible, but I still wanted it. I wanted to belong to a certain majority, a certain lifestyle, a certain language, an infinite aura of superiority. I wanted to be accepted by the Francophone sects. The Christian empire. So I manifested it.
I married a Christian Frenchman, moved to the French Riviera, and lived the French life. My son is French by birth. I speak the language. I have the passport. Dream achieved. Wish manifested at its highest level — and still I didn't belong. Still I wasn't accepted.
People in general, Lebanese in particular, have so many layers of dysfunction that not even another Lebanese can fully penetrate them. Eventually I accepted not belonging by convincing myself I didn't want to be part of a dirty cult anyway. I still wake up some mornings dreaming I was accepted into that cult. That part of me is still finding its way to heal.
The thing about dreams coming true is that when you face the reality of them, they injure you. Deeply. And you find yourself asking — is this what I actually wanted? Is this what I rallied my whole life toward?
What I got out of it was a beautiful, pure, loving husband and son. A family I never really had before. But I also got a system. A system that screams everything that is wrong with this world. A government not serving its people but creating hate and war between civilisations, cultures, and human beings. A system that — medically, agriculturally, architecturally — is slowly killing people. Sucking them dry. Stripping them of life, light, and hope.
The world system in general and the French one in particular should be considered illegal. And when that day comes, peace might actually have a chance.
My ongoing experience in France proved something uncomfortable about myself — I am genuinely addicted to French colonial energy. As if corruption is in my blood and I not only expected it but accepted it. Being forced out of that system gave me the distance to finally see clearly how thoroughly broken we've all become because of the world THEY built.
Let me give you a few examples of how the real French operate.
When I arrived in France I didn't speak the language. I floated through conversations I couldn't understand, living in a kind of ignorant bliss, completely smitten by the dream of one day becoming one of them. What I didn't register — couldn't register — was that everything around me was screaming against my values, my core political and human beliefs. Being called ‘the curly one’ wasn't a compliment. The fascination with my tan wasn't admiration. The French are never honest — the ‘savoir vivre’ code doesn't allow for it. They lie, and lie, and lie until they believe the lie themselves. Then another lie comes along to expose the previous one, all wrapped neatly in the pretence of politeness and ‘definitely not racism’.
I survived the first few years in France because I didn't speak the language. Ignorance truly is bliss in these countries.
Then I started observing. It's what I do best. I looked, really looked — and for a short while my faith in people was restored. Because it isn't the people. It's the system that destroyed them and us both. They created taxes on top of taxes to exhaust the rebel spirit in people. They created law after mini law under the fear of being called racist — and in doing so, fed racism more efficiently than any far-right movement ever could. They created wars and stole other countries' resources under the pretence of liberation.
And then they took French-born, French-raised generations — people who grew up inside that same system — and treated them like monsters. Accused them, generation after generation, of everything wrong with France. Called them Arabs. Called them Islam. Called them terrorists. Made every Black, brown, or curly-haired person the symbol of destruction — the creature that ruined French culture, the French economy, the beautiful blue-eyed life of the ‘real’ French.
But here's the joke — France's favourite holiday destination is Morocco. They love it there. They love the country, the food, the people, the warmth. So the problem was never Muslim Moroccans or Arabs. The problem is the French Moroccan — bred, raised, and educated inside the French system — who was told before they were even born that they were a monster. Because when a system treats you like a monster from birth, that is exactly what you become. When a system builds injustice into every layer of your existence, you turn to violence. And it's that same system, that same government, that created those conditions — so why are people fighting each other instead of fighting the system that manufactured this mess?
Where are the French rebels? The ones who took down a corrupt king? Who dismantled a monarchy built on injustice, hunger, and class warfare? Because the system in France today looks remarkably familiar — injustice, poverty, illiteracy, violence, hungry children, women collapsing under pressure, men lost inside a role they were never prepared for. The infrastructure got fancier. The suffering inside the homes stayed exactly the same.
The government holds the blue-eyed French by the throat through infinite taxes and revenue-over-taxes — a concept that genuinely shocked me. I looked at people and asked: you accept this? How? Why? The answer, always: ‘c'est comme ça’. That's just how it is. The most dangerous sentence in any language.
So men became something else, women became something else, and the demographic shifted in ways that make the right wing hysterical — as if the government itself didn't engineer every condition that led here. The double standards never stop astounding me. The level of illiteracy and deliberate ignorance in France is worse than in many countries I've visited. A system that keeps its people proudly ignorant is one of the most effective forms of control I've ever witnessed. Public hospitals — lost tax money. Public schools — lost tax money. What actually thrives in France? The homeless, the drunk, the naked, the violent, the ignorant, the dogs, and the Zionists.
Which reminds me — wasn't Germany in a similar state before Nazism took hold?
France, my lost dream. What did they do to you? You crawled out of rubble only to be buried again. The last lost culture of the European empire. But everything you have stolen from other countries, every culture you exploited and every people you colonised and discarded — it's coming back. Slowly, inevitably, it's coming back to bite you.
You cheated me of every dream and every greatness I hoped to find in you. You shine from the outside and burn from the inside. You turn your own people against each other. You manufacture hate between races and then act surprised when it explodes.
Your fall will either save humanity or at least begin the long road toward redemption.
The moment you denounced God — not from the political system, which was actually the smartest thing the First Republic ever did, separating the corrupt church from the state — but God as a genuine belief. As a force for good. As a superpower that calls for love and not hate. That was the moment you lost everything.
And God is coming for you.