was thinking about net neutrality today, and how a future without it will affect the internet, and media in general. then i realized a majority of people who look to facebook before they look anywhere else on the internet, have already accepted an internet without net neutrality. it’s sad. facebook has already conditioned people to accept an internet where not all data is treated equally, where you have to pay for a better service that used to be free for all (people pay for their personal posts to appear in their friend’s newsfeeds now) and i think i’m only 1 of like 5 people i know that don’t keep a personal facebook page. the internet is already becoming more censored every day… and most people don’t even notice it.
media justice is everyone’s fight.
I know how you watch as you grow older (literally - this is not a figure of speech) the corpses of your brothers and your sisters pile up around you, not for anything they have done. They were too young to have done anything, and in any case too helpless. What one does realize is that when you try to stand up and look the world in the face like you had a right to be here… you have attacked the entire power structure of the western world.
You, with the tongue that glues itself to the roof of your mouth when the whole family gathers and asks what you want to do with your life. You, who cannot bring yourself to force the words “artist, dreamer, anything but doctor or lawyer” out from the back of your throat. You, who hide your drawings, your quirks, your quiet rebellion.
I see you. I see your weird radiance, your strange brilliance. I see you shrink yourself to fit the standards of communities adjusting to a country that does not know what to make of us. I see you pull away from eyes struggling to make sense of you from across the dinner table, across the group of aunties with backs turned away from your growth.
There are no words for this—this moment when you feel continents apart from the people who share your blood but don’t understand the way your heart beats differently from their own. There are no roadmaps to make sense of a path we do not know exists until we stumble upon it.
But you are not alone. Your shy, your strange, your troubled—they walked alongside your ancestors, too. Fear stood alongside them through every battle, self-doubt became their bedfellow. Your art is not without precedent. Your heart is not without match in our legacies. You are not the first to waver, to wander, to wonder.