Forty-nine people died dancing. Well, they did not exactly dance to their last breath. There was terror, panic, pain in the end. But minutes before, they had danced, kissed, engaged in amorous activities, sexual activities.
By now everyone knows about the gunman who opened fire upon forty nine people at a gay nightclub. It is easy to speculate a kind of backstory to the attacker. We can assume he was a radical, a mad fanatic. His crime was directed against people of the LGBT community. He was enraged at the sight of two men kissing. Yet, he availed gay dating apps, is suspected to have been gay himself. What was his terror directed against, then? People who could own up to their sexuality which he himself could not? People satisfactorily in love? People who accepted themselves? People he could not be, and hence whom he hated? It can be speculated that Omar Mateen's act of terror was actually terror that spilled out from within himself- terror, the bite of which his own heart felt.
Because the worst of human beings cannot escape this affliction- the presence of this pulsating thing called the heart.
The people who died at the nightclub died moments after dancing. They were happy in that moment. One of them had been Snapchatting. Omar Mateen, on the other hand, died after he had spilled blood, consumed perhaps by his own hatred.
The world lost happy lovers. Their death was wrong, undeserved, untimely. Their loved ones lost loved ones and there can be no pain greater than that. But right now, I can think of one- just the one.
And that is the pain of being Omar Mateen. The pain of being the perpetrator of crime as grave as this. It is the pain of every terrorist, every murderer. It is the pain of the people who disrupt lives, sever bonds, stop hearts, spill crimson across dancefloors. It is also their own blood they spill. They are always on a suicide mission. It is their own souls that they destroy in the process. While thousands mourn the loss of innocent lives, let us also mourn the presence of the outstanding burden of blind hatred that looms over our society. This hatred has no cause, no reason, no logic- just a deep, ancient root. Let us mourn the spurring of Omar Mateens by our society.
Again, like everything, it starts with the individual. It starts with one simple "You faggot!"
I've had friends in this very city that have been called names, teased, bullied. It's the same story, nothing you haven't heard before. It is commonplace, so that the harrowing details may only bore the average reader. I won't look for novel ways to express that oppression. If the recent incident has not already shocked you, my words will not manage to do the job.
I have one question to ask the readers. If you are homophobic, or "weirded out" by gay people, or scared that one of them of the same gender as you might flirt with you (oh, the horror of being flirted with), I have one thing to tell you: there is one thing in common between phobia, hatred, condemnation. They are all like a two-way pistol, one end of which invariably points towards the perpetrator's heart.
With condemning Omar Mateen, we ourselves burn for the kind of violence we have all made possible. I have made it possible. You have made it possible.
While our Prime Minister sheds tears over the kind of violence that his own country reinforces under his own rule, I have one question to ask my fellow inhabitants of Kolkata. Are YOU gay in the City of Joy?
- SHAONI S.
By now everyone knows about the gunman who opened fire upon forty nine people at a gay nightclub. It is easy to speculate a kind of backstory to the attacker. We can assume he was a radical, a mad fanatic. His crime was directed against people of the LGBT community. He was enraged at the sight of two men kissing. Yet, he availed gay dating apps, is suspected to have been gay himself. What was his terror directed against, then? People who could own up to their sexuality which he himself could not? People satisfactorily in love? People who accepted themselves? People he could not be, and hence whom he hated? It can be speculated that Omar Mateen's act of terror was actually terror that spilled out from within himself- terror, the bite of which his own heart felt.
Because the worst of human beings cannot escape this affliction- the presence of this pulsating thing called the heart.
The people who died at the nightclub died moments after dancing. They were happy in that moment. One of them had been Snapchatting. Omar Mateen, on the other hand, died after he had spilled blood, consumed perhaps by his own hatred.
The world lost happy lovers. Their death was wrong, undeserved, untimely. Their loved ones lost loved ones and there can be no pain greater than that. But right now, I can think of one- just the one.
And that is the pain of being Omar Mateen. The pain of being the perpetrator of crime as grave as this. It is the pain of every terrorist, every murderer. It is the pain of the people who disrupt lives, sever bonds, stop hearts, spill crimson across dancefloors. It is also their own blood they spill. They are always on a suicide mission. It is their own souls that they destroy in the process. While thousands mourn the loss of innocent lives, let us also mourn the presence of the outstanding burden of blind hatred that looms over our society. This hatred has no cause, no reason, no logic- just a deep, ancient root. Let us mourn the spurring of Omar Mateens by our society.
Again, like everything, it starts with the individual. It starts with one simple "You faggot!"
I've had friends in this very city that have been called names, teased, bullied. It's the same story, nothing you haven't heard before. It is commonplace, so that the harrowing details may only bore the average reader. I won't look for novel ways to express that oppression. If the recent incident has not already shocked you, my words will not manage to do the job.
I have one question to ask the readers. If you are homophobic, or "weirded out" by gay people, or scared that one of them of the same gender as you might flirt with you (oh, the horror of being flirted with), I have one thing to tell you: there is one thing in common between phobia, hatred, condemnation. They are all like a two-way pistol, one end of which invariably points towards the perpetrator's heart.
With condemning Omar Mateen, we ourselves burn for the kind of violence we have all made possible. I have made it possible. You have made it possible.
While our Prime Minister sheds tears over the kind of violence that his own country reinforces under his own rule, I have one question to ask my fellow inhabitants of Kolkata. Are YOU gay in the City of Joy?
- SHAONI S.
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