Through the Black Lives Matter movement, there is an awareness of racial contrast waking up in a world that thought itself awoke. As I sit here in the computer bubble of my introverted life, things can feel a bit surreal, at times. I have white friends wanting to break free of unconscious assumptions, and friends of colour who are coming to realize that their failures are not entirely their fault.
As a slightly defeated 59-year-old Pakistani woman, who has lived in multiple countries, I fall into the second group.
As humans, we have an incredible ability to tolerate discomfort. And like sunflowers, we gravitate towards happiness. That combination often allows us to put up with a lot of shit so that we may live with a degree of fulfillment.
It seems to me that everyone wants to be seen and heard. We want to belong to a greater community, to live peacefully, to love freely, and to have the permission and freedom to discover and express our unique selves. While we can all agree on having the same desires, depending on which camp you are sitting in, one person’s progress can feel like an invasion to another.
For me, Black Lives Matter feels like progress. People are saying we look different, we dress differently, we speak differently, but we are still worthwhile. Their voices are shining the spotlight on problems in other communities: transgender rights, aboriginal suicides, caste discrimination, to name a few areas. People in the margins are asking for the freedom and the space to exist.
It might take me some time to process what the Black Lives Matter means to me. However today, I can borrow its boldness in claiming the right to show myself without fear of judgment and take permission to live deeper into the skin of my life.
“When you become the image of your own imagination, it is the most powerful thing you can do” – RuPaul.
About the image.
This is a close-up photograph of oil in water. The bubbles represent communities. Smaller bubbles cling to larger bubbles – sometimes getting integrated.