And organise intellectual mourning discourses after that.
|picture from the internet|
Consider us a part of your struggle.
Consider me a part of your struggle.
The struggle for a life free of discrimination.
We know how it feels to be considered a criminal in your own country.
We know how it feels to be discriminated.
To be made fun of.
To get married without consent.
And to live a life of lies.
A life where you can tell no one about your feelings.
we know the sounds of silence.
We know they could be deafening.
We know how it feels to be the subject of ridicule.
And not finding the strength to object it.
We know how it feels to be unloved in a fraction of a second.
To be hated.
To be spat on.
To be discriminated.
We know how it feels when you witness bloodshed.
We know how it feels to see our loved ones dying.
We know how it feel when even after death, the reason of their death is not revealed.
It is not revealed that they died of shame because they couldn't deal with the pang of societal prejuidice against their sexuality.
It is not revealed that the dead know that death was not the answer.
But they would rather die, than to live a lie.
We know the word Murder is a reality, not just a mystery novel idea or a film genre.
We know how it feels to be seen as the OTHER.
Hence we know that there are no two worlds - that of yours and of ours.
That's why we know that the world is one, and our struggles are one.
Just the difference is that you are called Uganda, we are called India.
and In Joy,
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