If Alan Rickman's The Winter Guest stroked my face softly, My Name is Rachel Corrie, at the Royal Court Theatre, London, slapped it hard with the gauntlet he threw down, as Rachel crashed into my life swishing her ChapStick and with a fire in her belly. Asked what he'd say if Rachel, the 23-year-old American peace protester killed by an Israel bulldozer in the Gaza Strip on 16 March 2003, came back, Rickman told an interviewer: 'She isn't coming back; that's the point.' I saw the play twice: he was wrong. He brought her back for everyone who walked out into Sloane Square knowing she'd just challenged us to change our world.I don't know if I mentioned in an earlier post that when I went to see the play at the Royal Court, Ruby Wax sat in the row in front of me. She had previously withdrawn from a Zionist Federation bash following protests so perhaps she was/is on the turn against zionism or, at least, the occupation. So perhaps Rachel Corrie is still reaching people.
39, housing consultant, West Yorkshire
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