Bloodless Bonds

My mother’s birthday this year was marked by an unexpected quietude, a dullness that seemed to mirror the heavy skies outside. The entire family fell ill on the 19th of August, succumbing to a cold that my brother-in-law, Ishan had unwittingly brought home. Yet, amidst the joyful chaos of Raksha Bandhan, I scarcely noticed the symptoms creeping in—the slight irritation in the throat, the persistent cough that would soon bind us all in shared discomfort.

The evening brought more than just a physical malaise; it delivered a letter, one that would stir the already murky waters of my mind. It spoke of an interpersonal upheaval, a situation that demanded a careful, measured response. My mother’s birthday, which should have been a day of celebration, was instead consumed by the task of writing a long reply, addressing concerns that cut deeper than the cold we all shared.

As I penned my thoughts, I couldn’t help but reflect on the words of my younger bua. She had always resented the part of me that placed the needs and happiness of those I love above the wants of my family. Her words, often delivered with a mix of frustration and prophecy, echoed in my mind: “Family is all that matters. One day, you will be abandoned by those who are not bound to you by blood.” 

Tonight, in the solitude of reflection, I realize that there are few in my life who share my belief that love, not blood, is what truly binds us. My partner of 24 years is one such person. He made the difficult choice to leave his family in order to live authentically, true to his own sexuality. Despite the distance, he continues to fulfill the demands they place upon him, yet in his heart, he counts me as his immediate and most important family. This bond, forged in love and not in blood, is the bedrock of our lives.

I know that life has a way of testing our convictions, and it may be that the faith I have placed in a few dear souls will, over time, be worn down by the relentless march of circumstances. But even in the face of potential disillusionment, I hold fast to the belief that love transcends the ties of kinship. My own father, the one who should have been a natural ally by virtue of blood, was the greatest contradiction to this notion. His hatred toward me, and my subsequent indifference toward him, stands as a testament to the fallacy that blood alone can sustain a relationship.

In the end, all I can do is remain true to my own belief system. Even if the road is fraught with missteps and misplaced trust, I would rather walk it with the hope that love, in all its forms, is the truest foundation for any relationship.

Only Time

Who can say where the road goes? Where the day flows? Only time.  

And who can say if your love grows as your heart chose? Only time.

I switched on Enya as my mind needed to stop its whirlwind, and this was the first song that played. These are the first lines that were sung to me.

I’ve had a tough week. Sunday was chaos, with an old relationship breaking down. It’s a trying time when you see all that you built over decades diminish in a few minutes.

Depression set in around that time. And the week has not been kind. I had a small accident with my new car. Then I had a revelation with a partner that made me realise that everything changes with time.

Irrespective of what Shakespeare said about the alteration of love, I know that there are graver and more terrible things out there: the crashing of identity, the mislabelling of gender, the murders in the name of love, and the genocide in the name of religion. But I guess every moment in time has its devastation.

We paint a kinder picture of our childhood, but I know that I had terrible trauma in those years too. They made me who I am today. This Blanche Dubois who wishes to be the modern-day Stella but fails—all the time.

Those lanterns I keep putting on the harsh bulbs of life keep burning up. And any moth, that comes close, burns. Like I burn—irrespective of all the light around me.

I am caught up in this pain that seems to abate and make me think that it’s over. But something happens with the people that I count on and it all comes crashing around me.

Saurabh came to meet me after two years. He came up to me as I went to greet him at the door. He said, “Oh my god, you look so good. You look lovely.” And I burst into tears. I couldn’t stop crying. I wept for minutes in his arms.

I suppose it’s a build-up of pain and fury at the world around me. I try to overcome this weight of being needed and wanted. This weight where I find myself comparing my character, my body, my passion, my ability, my longing to the ones around me. The weight of finding myself short in every aspect because I see myself through other people’s eyes.

I’m not macho enough. I’m not handsome enough. I’m not intelligent enough. I am not kind enough. I am not capable enough. It goes on and on—these thoughts that harass my mind and create this incredible surge of helplessness.

I can’t bear to show this. I can’t bear to keep this hidden. Then there is the ridicule of the tears. Will I be judged for them? Aren’t men not supposed to weep? Rowling would say it’s not man enough, I suppose. My tears as a man wouldn’t be real for her. Would they? But then who even is she to me in the larger scheme of things? But won’t my mother count in this scheme? My best friend? My lover?

Then Saurabh comes in. He lashes out at every insecurity and sees me. I weep. 

Imane

Imane Khelif has emerged as a prominent figure in women’s boxing, known for her skill, dedication, and perseverance. As a representative of Algeria, she has become a symbol of hope and inspiration, particularly for young women in her country and beyond. Khelif’s journey in boxing is a testament to her hard work and the barriers she has broken in a sport that is often dominated by men. In fact, her father had not wanted her to join the sport of boxing as it isn’t considered  appropriate for a Muslim girl to participate in what is considered to be a “man’s sport”. 

Ironically, the controversy began when Khelif was accused of being a man by Carini, a rival boxer who refused to fight her. The accusations were baseless and seemed to stem from Carini’s inability to face Khelif in the ring. After a day of backlash and public outrage, Carini issued an apology. However, the damage had already been done. The initial accusations had spread far and wide, casting a shadow over Khelif’s reputation. The apology, while necessary, could not undo the harm inflicted by the reckless and irresponsible comments.

Social media platforms can amplify misinformation at an alarming rate. The accusations against Khelif quickly went viral, leading to widespread speculation and judgment. The power of social media lies in its ability to reach millions of people instantaneously, but this power comes with a responsibility that is often neglected. When influential personalities share unverified claims, the consequences can be devastating for the individuals involved.

The damage was done, and the repercussions were swift and severe. Prominent figures like J.K. Rowling, Martina Navratilova, Chris Evert, and Boris Becker weighed in, with some stating that Khelif might be transgender. The hate was clear when the designated pronouns were he/him/his. Such statements, particularly when made without evidence, have a catastrophic impact due to the influential status of these individuals.

It is worth noting that it took an entire day for concerned individuals to raise their voices. Hate spreads rapidly, while wisdom takes time to take hold. It’s crucial to diminish the influence of those who spread hate, but it is disheartening to see that those in positions of power often perpetuate it.

Elon Musk acquired Twitter, then rebranded it as X. He is powerful and wealthy. While his intentions for the platform are varied, he unfortunately contributed to the controversy by calling Imane Khelif “crazy”, a distressing stance, which is particularly noteworthy given that his own daughter is transgender. It is no surprise then that his daughter chose to publicly disown him. 

I once adored J.K. Rowling and all of her work, writing essays and articles about her rise and brilliance. As a gay individual with a tough childhood, I found solace in her books, especially in the character of Dumbledore, whom she outed in 2007 after the series had concluded. At the time, I dismissed any reservations, accepting it as her right to explore her creations.

However, in 2019, my admiration turned to dismay when she posted a tweet rife with transphobia. Since then, I’ve felt a deep sense of disgust and betrayal, especially with her recent tweets about Imane Khelif. Without any basis, Rowling questioned Imane’s gender, an act that is particularly appalling from someone who calls herself a feminist. What she is doing is despicable.

I must further note, J.K. Rowling adopted the pen name “J.K.” to appeal to a broader audience, particularly aiming to attract young male readers who might have been hesitant to pick up a book written by a woman. This strategic choice, advised by her publisher, underscores the gender biases in the publishing industry. Now, as a prominent figure who publicly champions feminism, this decision might seem hypocritical, especially in light of her controversial views on transgender issues, which many critics argue are at odds with inclusive feminist principles. The dissonance between her early career decisions when she wanted to be read and her current stance once she has all her wealth, highlights the complexities and contradictions in her public persona and advocacy.

All of this brouhaha definitely reflects the complexities and contradictions present in the social media landscape and the urgent need for more responsible dialogue. This incident highlights several critical issues. First, it underscores the need for responsible behavior on social media, especially from public figures. The spread of misinformation can have real-world consequences, tarnishing reputations and causing emotional distress. Second, it brings to light the prejudices and biases that still exist in sports. Accusations of being transgender as a means of undermining an athlete’s success are not only baseless but also reflect a deep-seated intolerance.

Furthermore, the incident raises questions about the measures in place to protect athletes from such slander. Governing bodies in sports must take a more active role in addressing and preventing such controversies. Athletes, regardless of gender, deserve respect and fair treatment, free from baseless accusations and societal prejudices.

White privilege often upholds narrow and exclusionary standards of beauty and behavior, marginalizing those who don’t conform. Not just Imane Khelif, but Serena Williams, and Simone Biles have all faced bigoted criticism for not aligning with these restrictive ideals of how a woman “should look.” Khelif just faced racial and gender prejudices that undermine her recognition. Williams, despite her dominance in tennis, is frequently subjected to racist and sexist remarks about her physique. Biles, an extraordinary gymnast, has been scrutinized for her appearance rather than celebrated solely for her achievements. These instances highlight how deeply ingrained stereotypes about race and gender continue to limit the respect and recognition that diverse individuals deserve, revealing the intersectional challenges women of color face in their respective fields.

Imane Khelif’s experience serves as a terrible tale about the power and pitfalls of social media. While it has the potential to celebrate and elevate athletes, it can also be a platform for spreading harmful and unfounded claims. The involvement of high-profile individuals in propagating such misinformation only exacerbates the issue. As a society, it is imperative that we strive for greater accountability and responsibility, ensuring that the successes and struggles of athletes like Khelif are recognized and respected for what they truly are.