On the way out of town, I looked at the local peasants and thought that if some of their forefathers had not burned down the houses of such as my forefathers, mine wouldn’t have left. I considered what had happened to my family within two generations, and what hadn’t happened for them, and instead of feeling outraged by the history of aggression, I felt privileged by it. Oppression sometimes benefits its victims more than its perpetrators. While those ravaging others’ lives exhaust their energy on destruction, those whose lives are shattered must expend their vigor on solutions, some of which can be transformative. Hatred drove my family to the United States and its previously unimaginable freedoms.