Yesterday, I found out something horrible. Something that I did not know before, although it happened seven months ago. As a result of finding this out, I am in the most excruciating pain imaginable. Every minute is completely unbearable.
Obviously, the fact that the man that I love has been murdered yet again is pretty awful, as is the fact that my city now has an official holiday celebrating the obliteration of people like me from the earth. The entire city is now contaminated, and I therefore cannot get any enjoyment out of any of the statues, restaurants, coffee shops, stores, events, streets, parks, ponds, forests, flowers, or wildlife in the city, because literally everything in the entire city now triggers excruciating, agonizing pain. Adding to the pain is the fact that this decision by the mayor happened seven months ago and I didn’t find out about it until now. Because of the omnipresent potential for triggering excruciating pain, I typically do not seek out this type of information, and actively take steps to avoid it. But the consequence is that when I do find out the information, I find out long after it happens, making the whole situation even more upsetting.
I am aware that I could contact the mayor, work with the state Italian American organization to try to do some advocacy, contact local Italian American organizations, and/or try to do something with the town Republican committee to “fight back.” But honestly, the prospect of doing any of these things makes me completely sick to my stomach. I find these possibilities to be completely repulsive on a deep, fundamental level. It’s as if my soul is completely beaten down, has nothing left to give, and is rebelling at the prospect of continuing to engage in a useless, futile battle. What is the point of fighting for the man that I love if he is inevitably going to be murdered, and the only question is how quickly? What is the point of fighting if I am only prolonging his torturous, agonizing death? But also, I can’t live with the prospect of doing nothing, because then I would appear to be condoning what happened.
My logical mind cannot come up with an explanation for why Christopher Columbus matters so much to me, and why these things have such a profound negative impact. Despite knowing on some level that my perspective is irrational, I cannot see the bigger picture, cannot step outside of this perspective.
I know that in order to continue living, I need to somehow come up with a different way of viewing things. But I can’t. Nothing else matters but Christopher Columbus and the Confederacy. Nothing will make me feel okay, other than society collectively recognizing that I hold the moral high ground, and not the people who hurt me. And the odds of that happening are essentially zero.
I can’t escape from the laughing face emojis, the jeering comments, the nauseating public statements, the pompous and self-righteous social media posts, the insults of “traitor” and “insurrectionist” and “racist” and “colonizer.” I can’t escape from the images of the beautiful men that I love being lynched, dismembered, smashed to pieces, beheaded, burned. I can’t escape from a society that views the perpetrators of these atrocities as holding the moral high ground and the victims (me) as shameful. This is the worst torture imaginable, and I cannot see a path forward.