This is a story of community. Imagine a race with no competition, just mutual support, self-reliance and joy. The aim of the race is not to win it but to simply finish it. Their entire community cheering for them. At the end, they find peace and they get to go home. But on their way home, they see... a ball of energy. A blinding light, enough to burn someone just by looking at it but they, they get very close, they get so close because they are special, they are perfect, they are the one.... They, they, they, they have blood on their hands. So they run but this race is not just one to finish. It’s one they hope that they even get a glimpse of the finish line without ending with their blood on someone else’s hands. And then they hear them. These people are here to fight back. Things start to fall apart. And these people strip away the beauty from this once beautiful society. They never see the finish line, but their grandchildren will.

This is a story of change. Hope that change will bring a better life. But they will have to see all the beauty their society once had behind a glass screen in a city drowning in buses painted with their blood. They never see all that beauty though. They never get to enjoy their weekends, they must work. But they still are penniless. They travelled all the way from what they always knew. And what they always knew was the bloody aftermath of decades of pillaging and occupation. So at a young age, they see things start to fall apart. But they still aren’t gone yet. They are still only children. So they wait and grow up, until that day they can start a new life. She is pregnant and they both want a better life for their child so they go. They then hear the booming voice of the ancestors swirling around their heads saying ‘be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong’. Watchful they are. Very watchful. So they are exceptionally watchful, that they try to blend in but their skin stands out in a vast array of beige. Assimilate, refine your English, work hard and everything will be fine. Everything will work out. So they cross that finish line. But there are so many more to go. But their son will.

This is a story of naivety. The facade of freedom. Their son is a bit more bold. His father always told him to, ‘be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong’. So he stands strong in faith, that everything will work out. But can you hear that? That music. The sultry vocals on top of bouncing beats. Up next are the heavily auto tuned vocals still on top of bouncing beats. Or a guy spitting bars on top of bouncing beats. There were a lot of bouncing beats. And there is this girl. And they always told him to ‘be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong’ but it’s not the same anymore. He doesn’t have to be watchful. Things are different. Things don’t fall apart. Society won’t collapse in on itself. There is an absence of chaos. Peace. Peace is the standard. So... he fell in love. And he has a son but... it’s hard. Hard on her. Hard on him. So they do what they can to care for him, but just not together. He is a priority. But he is passive in his parenting. He doesn’t have to tell him to be watchful anymore. He is safe. He must be safe. He has finally crossed the finish line, right? He should get his bronze back, right? But he sees a big hill in front of him and he knows that he can’t do this alone. But his son might.

This is a story of pressure. The type of pressure that builds slowly. Slowly, very slowly. His eyes are glued to a screen, not a screen that views his culture, the artistry of his ancestors. What he sees is this man who creates this illusion that he is omniscient. All-knowing. He tells him he needs to be better, he needs to do better, only then will people want him, desire him. And right now he’s weak. So he needs to prove himself.

He is running this race, and everyone else is running too. The aim is to win. Fighting for a place on that hypothetical podium. The best he could ever get is Bronze. But no one is cheering. There is no end in sight. Fatigue slowly starts creeping into his soul and his spirit starts to deteriorate. He hears them. ‘Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong’. He is watchful. He is firm in his faith that he will win. He acts like a real man. He is strong. But he needs to be stronger. He sees a ball of energy, he thinks he must be the winner then...

He has blood on his hands. How?

He wants to stop running, he really wants to stop running but he can’t, he needs to run to survive to provide for himself.

But he is still penniless. How?

He sees a girl, a girl and he thinks she’s the one. And she is.

But they still divorce. How?

After everything, things still fall apart. But for his son it won’t. It can’t.

This is a story of men. Men who never win. Men who don’t even get to keep their bronzes. They suffered just to get a taste of bronze. And they don’t even get to keep it. Unfulfillment has made a home in them. But they were watchful, they stood firm in faith, they acted like men and they were strong, they were strong, they were strong, they were fucking strong. Until things fall apart. Then what even is strong anymore.

Image credit: Christina Deravedisian