A good amount of people would love to embrace representation without tasting its bitter, disgusted rage.
Why so angry? Why can’t you compose yourself? (You’re making me uncomfortable. I can’t seem to understand you.)
Blame comes easy to us. We’re a generation that has had to relearn. We are people who’ve had their eyes forcibly pulled shut, people who are still struggling to gain their vision again. The words don’t do our rage any justice. It’s not even anger that shakes and trembles by itself at the bottom of our hearts. Our grief is dishevelled by its own reflection, stunned by the numbing solitude it has been subjected to.
The question was never why. It is the why nots that have us strung in a riptide. The what ifs. The years and minutes and hours and floodgates that could’ve, maybe stayed close. The easier childhoods, the wilder adolescences.
Some things aren’t just institutional, you want to say. Some things dig deeper.
I’ve lived three quarters of my existence feeling alone and unloved, being ungrateful and miserable — how is that fair? I’d once been made to feel like a mistep, a bizarre consequence of the world’s sloven walk to your definition of “progress”. Merely collateral damage, that someone else would surely repair in years to come. All for nothing, but these vile thoughts were allowed to dig a nest inside my heart.
You want to scream at the unfairness of it all. You could’ve lived more simply, with less terrifying encounters with self hate. If only people hadn’t been so cruel, and had not laid your peace of mind down the line for the sake of their own egos. The words you want are “leave me alone”, “never come close to me again”, but also, deeply, “don’t you dare let a finger on more of my people”.
This is the “rage”. It bleeds of compassion and a need to undo. Let discomfort take a seat at the back this time. It would be nice to see the tables turn for a change.
A/N: this is a bit random. I’ve started writing about topics that I’ve always wanted to share/discuss with anyone reading my blog. The above had been written in one sitting, and is open for interpretation. While my writing may be subject to the personal emotions, feelings and circumstances that surround it, there’s a good chance that it may be relatable to another person as well. Discrimination is, unfortunately, closely linked to our perception of ourselves. Sometimes, the hatred we are shown may take longer than we think to be undone. Sometimes, knowing something is right or wrong doesn’t change how it feels in the heart. If you’ve ever felt, or feel like you can relate to the rage I am describing, here’s the longest and warmest bear hug. You deserve joy, you are beautiful. And you are as ordinary, as special, as normal, as amazing as all those around you ♥️
graze the stars 