little boy

Little boy is quiet and shy. Little boy has a crush on a little girl. They part ways and he sees her years later wearing a veil. He wishes to say hi but he can't. Little boy is being hit on by boys. Little boy likes to read books. The boy's dad gets sick, seriously sick. His mom starts cheating on his dad. He becomes angry and confused. His dad passes away. He's still confused. Why is he not sad as he should be? Little boy is older now. He is yearning for a handsome boy, a smart boy. All these boys just want to have some sex. He feels ashamed about what he does with other boys. He feels one day he'll be older and all this will end. That he'd have a family and become normal like all the others. He can't quit, he can't change. Little boy feels lonely and dissatisfied. He hasn't found the kind of friend he wanted. He plans to leave his hometown and he does. The young man finds a job. He gets another job to please his family and fulfill the expectations of making money. He doesn’t have much time but he begins to forge friendships. This gay community is not easy to deal with you know. One sad night his knee is injured and he decides to quit one job. Little boy is radicalized by Cairo, that monstrous city that grinds its people. He wants to change the world, he wants to work in human rights. Little boy travels and lives abroad for a few months. He feels vocal and confident. He's more sure he wants to change the world. He changes his career. He travels more often. He feels he's doing something and needs to do more. Revolution breaks out. This is the moment long waited for. It keeps getting harder and complicated. This fight is too draining. The trauma is creeping in. the failed revolution, the difficult work, the challenging friendships. It all sinks in. He finds some pleasure in being radical. Radical sex encounters makes him excited.  He feels sick and finds out he's got HIV. What's the little boy to do? Quit it all? Leave his home and family? Become less radical? Become celibate altogether? Should he come out about it? Can he change the world? It's the end of life as he knows, but what will he make out of it?

the end of the affair

One major reason I'm angry is the discovery of the naiveté of my feelings. The dire lack in my experience. I've been told friendships end. I've been told they become something else. Something materialistic and parasitic. 

I'm also angry because fate wasn't kind on this one. Yes things happened over some months, but they did all happen in one year. And that's hard to bear.

Y gone to northern lands. A cheating. M cheating too, with much deeper consequences. Sh and the realization of impossibility of reconciling our friendship and her relationship.

I've been working out forgiveness. Trying to let go of the anger and resentment. Trying to be less bound by justice and more by understanding. Oh I've had some crucifying days.

What's crucifying about all this? Why is it so hard? I guess it's easier to accept people sail ship and lay their anchors elsewhere. It's all very congruent with the temporary alliances theory of friendship. Not so easy to accept witnessing your friendship fall apart in front of you. Your feelings change and your memories are re-written in light of all recent darkness.

A sudden void is staring at you. Endless moments of bitterness and pain. A fear you'll never trust again. You'll never try to love again. You'll be alone as you grow old. There's no one to rely on. I can do the relying on myself part but who would listen to my complicated stories?

The most impending feeling I get upon those thoughts is leaving the country. Why would I stay here anymore? A major reason; the people, the loved ones, ceased to exist.

Failing terribly failed by others shatters your world. but that comes in many colors and shades. Either because you never mattered. Or because you were never understood. Or you were important but not that important. Or that your intentions were misunderstood. Or that you weren't cool enough as a friend, or not fit enough. Your interests didn't matter.

But then there's also the part where you, yourself, were full of shit. You probably weren't open and accepting enough. I wasn't supportive enough.  I was a bit too controlling or a bit of a control freak.

And to avoid unabashed self-criticism, I've been brave. I give myself that. I was honest, most of the time. I did care, for complex reasons yes, but I did fucking care.

New beginnings to come. Something to be happy about. Sounds too theoretical for me right now. All I can feel is that heaviness lying over my heart.

All I wanted is to be understood. I guess that was too much to ask for.

a testimony in questions

why does the sex part have to be the most shameful part?

why does an incident that doesn't include sex better than one that does?

can i admit pleasure with a perpetrator?

is a perpetrator a perpetrator based on intention or hindsight?

is there room for empathy with thieves? is the world's way of justice against class gaps?

if thieves can be condones, why not rapists? what's the difference?

how to keep your guard on without losing pleasure altogether?

can i trust anyone again?

what mode of interaction could fill up the void if i let go if cruising?

how could the shame be on the perpetrators and not me?

how could evil be so intentional?

do i really think i can outwit perpetrators?

what does it take to have the courage to stand up for perpetrators?

what would happen to me if i stand up? death? injury? rape?

do i actually attract trouble?

why is it so hard to enjoy a few days off?

is this sex addition? or heteronorm?

who can support me if things get really bad?

is it possible, even meaningful to try to stop cruising?

what are the limits to cruising?

what safety measures that i need to take now?

can i continue to open up, give and be kind?

was i ever kind? or kind enough?

will this sense of fear go away?

what's lurking for me in the future?

in praise of survivors

It's not safe but we survive, said the Palestinian. He knows better I thought. Cheers to that.

I still can't believe how easy it was. Being so close to evil can be so puzzling. Sleeping with a rapist or a thief just dims the light of the world.

About a year later, I run into the Aswani who I took home. We choose a street café and he speaks soft sweet words. I don't know why I was choose to sit with him, for validation or anthropological observation. I always said if they ask about their phones, they're up to stealing them. I fell into the trick I've warned off for long. I was truly trustful, not the point of taking him home. But I couldn't believe he'd do it.

The bastard was in my home. The only reason he didn't perpetrate was the fact that he saw others at my previous place. I don't know what he would have done if he got me alone.

Even after he's threatened with taking me to the police, I still gave him the benefit of doubt. But also, what else could I do but give him the benefit of the doubt?

In front of his threats, what were my options? Yell and shout? This could have easily turned into public torture by the café clients. It is true, potential survivors need to be empowered but we also need to address the structural issues that prevent that from happening.

I could have been less afraid. I need power and bravery to do that. To be able to fight that fight without anybody helping me.

An interesting way of dealing with triggers is imagining myself stabbing my perpetrators. The image of blood becomes a complete relief.

Not only did I try what it feels to be orally raped, I also know what it is to have sex in a public building. Exciting mix no?

Fear becomes part of you, of who you are. But also strength does. Survival is not just a trick, it's also a way of living.

Thoughts of a 29-year-old

On perils of long-term friendships
 You get too comfortable. You know each other too well, or you think you do. Years of perceptions, attitudes accumulate and form a solid image of who the other person is. You forget that we change and grow in the process, and we're no longer the same persons. You act out your anger at each other. It gets hurtful and sabotaging. You fail to see the vulnerabilities. You know the weaknesses too well. You don't appreciate the strengths as much.
She disappoints me and breaks my heart. To see her bound to her perpetrator, unable to break free and be the vibrant person she once was. She can't be with me because she has to be with him. I want more of her. He makes me feel ugly, undesired. He makes me feel slight. He doesn't give me safe space to express the real me, the fragile and vulnerable me. His attitudes make me feel lacking.

We're bound to each other. What binds us? Obligation, trust or fear of the unknown?

On caring for others as a job
Trauma is now part of me. I supported many people as a full time job. My ability to listen, support is now diminished. I can't be patient as I was. I can't be helpful as I was. I can't trust people because I know I'll be fucked over and over for it.

Reappearance 
Of all people, I see you sitting there at the bar right in front of me. I was thinking about you lately. Thinking if I ever forgave you or if I should or if I could for that matter. Thinking of what scars you left in me. I said you represented hope. You shattered the hope. I don't want you back. I don't know what I want with you. I wish I could understand. 

On leaving everything behind
I feel increasingly trapped that the only way out is a literal way out. How can I explore who I can be and what I can do if I stick around same places and faces? Is this really me and is this all that I can be? Would I be happy elsewhere? Could I ever be happy here when I feel I've seen it all?

On body and desire
What do I do with my libido? I sometimes want to rid myself of it. Be liberated from wanting to connect with others in a sexual medium. I thought life can be easier without libido. I talked to him after we fucked and I asked him why we fuck even if I'm not his type. It made me wonder if I would ever feel good enough about my body. I'd always doubt they want me. How can I have a chance of escaping my betraying body? How can I mend things between us? How can I be comfortable enough to embrace different sorts of intimacies?

On crisis 
The fear is it won't get better. It won't feel better. It gets worse. I know what they say about being more assertive in your 30s and that's all great. It's crazy how I spend the best part of my life trying to be an adult; and now that I'm molding into an irreversible adult, I want to rebel against it.  I wish I could give poor young me a big hug.

on the safety of cruising..

Which is safer, to cruise for sex in public or to navigate the gay scene?

You browse endless profiles on the internet and mobile applications where each part of your body is thoroughly scrutinized before you're approved. You go out with your gay friends to meet other gay friends. You're anxious what impression you're making, and if the hottie would choose you or your best friend to spend the night with. You run into an ex date, ex fuck or ex boyfriend, and it stirs all sorts of emotional baggage. Isn't that risk? Isn't that damaging and harmful? It's a nerve wrecking, emotionally draining process.

There's safety within the risk of cruising. While cruising you don't have to deal with this. Your body is more accepted and people are much less pickier. The focus is on pleasure and instant gratification. An instantaneous agreement on mutual stimulation is developed. You leave in silence without having to say anything, or you just say 'see you' and move away in peace.

If the motive is to have sex and fleeting intimacy, why would I choose the structures built by/for the gay community? I'd rather cruise on the street, public transport and toilets.

We know it's dangerous. There's a good reason why we keep doing it. It's emotionally safer and it's usually more rewarding. We may get mugged, attacked or arrested, but we also feel unsafe mingling around so-called comrades and potential mates.

New Year's Party

Another year. Another party.

Anticipation. Fear. Worry.

Body hate, anxiety about friends failing me, of being raided and arrested. Of drugs not working as it should. Of not feeling a fleeting rapture.

What happened to the brighter side? Where is it? what made it so warped? So sinister and hidden?

Has trauma blinded me? Made me so disconnected from who I am?

They notice changes. I notice them too. I'm not the same, who could I remain the same? I'm harder, cynical and tired.

Would I leave the party bitter and confused? Being the smart one gets me nowhere. Being the sexy one works. Win them over by my brains? By my apparent morality? My genteelness? Oh what priceless bullshit.

My bullshit is so dear to me. I want it to become the norm. How can standing up for principles make you so hated? An outcast.

I'm just fooling myself. I want admiration and fame. I just have different tools. I'm using them for self promotion. The market is just so tough these days.

How long will I stay? How long will I let myself stay? Do I want to stay? What would I actually lose if I stay?

Does it only get darker from here? Guilt and bitterness ridden future ahead? What disaster this new year's eve bring?

I'll probably watch and burn.