Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Concerning Violence & Survival


CW/TW: violence

          "Are you okay ? What's wrong ?"
Define "okay" and tell me what isn't wrong... I have been staring at this blank draft, wondering of the meaning to my words, and the purpose of my story. Yet I must write, for then I might finally stop crying...

          Capitalism forces a sex worker who’s just been raped on Saturday to seek more work on the Monday after. She knows of crying on the weekends for rest and crying on the weekdays for work. Colonialism taught us that there was no freedom compared to the development of some, Capitalism now teaches us that there is no freedom compared to the development for some.

          A trans woman of colour, a miracle for how she drags a dead body to class. Crying uncontrollably from her bed to the bathroom, she promises herself that she'll be okay, even knowing the possibility of peace within if she just drop dead. Yet guilt is what makes it unbearable, the guilt for mourning a body that still breathes with other trans women/femmes being murdered. As a survivor from times and times again, I feel as if someone else is wearing my body. I do not know of where I am nor why I am... Yet I am already so privileged and lucky, and I apologize to my next breath for I do not give this life justice. I am so sorry to the world, for my incapability of spreading love and life that so many around me deserve. I am sorry as I wish to give this stolen soil more than just my tears, to give the hurting more than just safe spaces, to give the breaking more than just solidarity, to give the loving more than just me. I apologize, as I wish to give so much more, still waiting for the world to embrace me back, softly... And perhaps it is too selfish, to imagine love, to imagine safety, to fantasy a home, and to seek for softness among such cruelty.

          Capitalism forces the meaning out of friendships, out of relationships, out of love, and care... as no one is able to even save themselves. What do I say, to "friends" when they ask if I'm okay ? How do I answer, to "lovers" when they ask me what's wrong ? They have nothing to offer, but to share my pains and burdens. As I have told my psychiatrist, speaking of my circumstances does not seem productive... I wish I can shake off the teachings of Capitalism, but like a disease it eats you from the inside out. I wish to not feel worthless when I have not sent out at least a job application a day. I wish to not feel useless when I can not pay for my own meal. I wish to not... feel such heaviness for simply just breathing.

          concerning violence and survival... are you okay ? 

          Life, feels like it's only meant for some. I wonder of the people enjoying their summers, traveling, with what is known to be families and friends. I wonder of the people, working and trying to enjoy their summers, appreciating the weekends and the little money sustaining their social lives. Is that happiness ? Is happiness as we know it even accessible ? I wonder of the people struggling, but still enjoying their summers, trying to forget, trying to cope, trying to be, happy. Or as happy as we can be I guess with the uncertainty of tomorrow. Thus I wonder of myself, as I don't know how to go to class, appointments, write essays, seek for jobs, for shelter, for love, for myself, and for happiness all at the same time... Maybe I've just been weak and lost. I have no one to blame but for myself, as no one takes care of me but me. I'll be okay, I have to be...

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