The general state of affairs in the world has been weighing down on me extra hard lately. With the "wars" and the genocides, the AI, the unemployment, the islamophobia, religious, and caste discrimination and all the other big bad things in the world -- i have been feeling quite hopeless.
Honestly, I've been feeling numb. Dissociated and empty. How else does one move through life under these circumstances?
I was once so hopeful with fire in my belly to fight all the bad things and believe in a better world. And I felt completely disconnected from that self.
The newest development is the anti-trans bill proposed by the Indian government. This shattered me. Most of all, I was mad at myself for feeling so hopeless. I come from a place of caste and class privilege. Who am I to lose hope at such a time? And yet that thought only added to the heaviness and helps NO ONE.
Around the same time, on Friday, I had a fall and injured my ankle. I stayed home and rested it for a few days and finally decided it would be best to visit the doctor. The second my friends and little community network heard this, I was offered so much care and support. Three of my friends -- Adi, Agu, and Josh showed up today, in the middle of the workday for some of them, to go to the hospital with me. After the hospital, we sat around the dining table at home and ate mangoes with vanilla ice cream, samosas, and chocolate pastries. It was a life affirming afternoon. We are all queer and fall under the trans umbrella. We built this warmth and support... and we show up for each other.
I also watched a documentary that was recommended to me by a member of Cinema Next Door called Shinjuku Boys.
I truly think music and cinema has a way of finding you when you need it most. And that's what this film did for me. I needed it to affirm my belief and hope in a better world. In our right to exist and live and love and just be.
You can read my full thoughts on this film here
I cried. I would've never imagined having a support system like this a couple of years ago. My queerness has only opened me up to real connection, love, and care. The world needs this. It needs us.
My heart aches. Hope and grief both together sit light and heavy in my chest. I must keep going. And we will.