November diaspora snippets

I need physical intimacy. Never thought I'd miss being hugged so much. Just saw a silly video of a young white boy standing at an American beach carrying a sign 'kiss me I'm desperate'. Makes me think I should do the same here. Where would one go to ask for free hugs? They don’t have to be free by the way. I can give back affection and attention. I want nonsexual hugs. I miss holding my friend's hand while crossing the roads in Cairo. We'd do that then we won't let go of each other's hands. We'd cling to each other. Sometimes I felt anxious though. I felt the burn of the stares at us. Sometimes I was like fuck it. I think I grew bolder with time. I miss those hands. Even that anxiety.

She said I'm experiencing the fluidity that comes with travel. I said but I'm not feeling fluid. My gender expression is the same. My sexual preferences are the same. I can dance on the streets here. I can switch hips when I want to. I still feel I can't/don't escape who I was in my home country.

I shared the photo. I wanted to feel important. I wanted people to feel I'm important. By having an opinion, by giving an impression that I'm doing things. The caseworker kept sharing information, sounding really smart and eloquent. I was in her place in the past. It was me the journalists sought to speak to. Now I'm just sitting there, keeping my opinions to myself. I'm just an interpreter here. And soon I will be the asylum seeker who's trying to access services and advocate for his rights. I'm flipping sides and exploring what it means to be helped instead of the helping one.

The erotic is life. Life means nothing if you don't feel raunchy, horny. White people don't usually turn me on. On Cairo's streets, I'd be turned on so easily. I got cruised by a white guy at a club's urinal the other day. My first cruising experience here. I ended up sucking three guys dicks in a dark room. All was well except the uncut dicks I'm not used to sucking. After I'm done I felt something was missing. A certain vibe. A sense of challenge, maybe? You don't feel you're breaking any taboos here. Skin color isn't the only thing that makes it lackluster. It's the whole context. Sex feels better when it's an act of resistance.

In your new city, you don't have friends. You do have friend but not friends friends. Not the people who understand you without finishing your sentences, the people who understand your cynical jokes, the people you actually have inside jokes with, the ones you have long history with. And you realize it's so exhausting. To be always be on guard. To always be making such an effort. To not be able to share what really goes on your mind because you're too careful making a good impression.