Dear Princess ‘Ishka,
Last Saturday my hometown hosted a gay pride for the first time in its history. I already knew the event was to take place, but interestingly I found myself filled with awe as I scrolled the photos on Facebook and Instagram. It was striking for me to see the very place in which I grew up experiencing homophobia and bigotry on a daily base being invaded by rainbow flags and people of all ages and colors reunited to celebrate inclusion and the value of life in all its orientations.
I don’t live in the city I was born anymore, and I wouldn’t like to go back to live there in the future either. My city rejected me when I was most in the need of being accepted, it suffocated my personality and clipped the wings of my aspirations. It burned the soil around me, hindering my youth from flourishing and attempting to force me into madness. How can I love a place like that? How can I appreciate the perks of a hometown, which smashed the foundations of my positivity?
Back then, my city was grey and disheartening. The best people were the hypocrites, because “honesty” meant verbal harassment to me.
Now everything looks different. Last Saturday, thousands of people gathered together, swarming through the streets of the city center saying out loud that equality is no empty word to embellish political correctness. It must be substantial and it must be for everyone, unconditionally. Noticing my cousin with her husband, their two-year-old twins on the respective shoulders, and their third daughter marching along with the crowd, felt as if they were liberating the places of my oppression. I saw it as a cathartic parade, to purify the moral pollution my city was saturated by.
I wasn’t there, and I would agree with anyone accusing me of cowardice. My case is even worse, since I have not contributed to the liberation in general. I went away, leaving my past behind irremediably.
As time went by, my resentment got milder and more rational, but it has always underlied my feelings. However, something new has recently burst into my emotional spectrum. It’s a feeling I have always mistrusted, for all it usually brings is stagnation, indulgence and delusion. It is what the strong tell the weak to feel, in order to control them and justify injustice. But now I have reasons to let it grow in me. My ex fellow citizens have shown a courage and a dedication which is more than admirable, it brings hope for the future. Hope is what they make me feel for the hopeless place of my youth.
Maybe I don’t have the right to feel something as lazy as hope for people who are fighting for the ongoing liberation. Maybe they would prefer “less words and more facts” from me. Unfortunately, I doubt that I have anything to share with my hometown anymore.
I still would like to humbly dedicate this letter to them, if you will allow me to, my princess. I dedicate it to the strength they have that I lack, because they didn’t give up when I did. So, thank you, even if you won’t read this letter. Thank you because a tiny piece of world is a better place thanks to you. And my little me of the past would have been very proud of each one of you.