“Wednesday 18th of December 2019
I wake up and the first news that I hear is that she died 2 days ago.
Zelda. Thelma. Maia.
I woke up, I learned, my body collapsed without moving, I read a forum, I cried.
I will write at the present time to capture the moment well. So listen, carefully.
Oh fuck. So many words smash in my head. With the memories. With her smile. With her musics.
Zelda was rapping. Whore’s rap. Zelda was taking pictures and they were beautiful and I still remember our shooting, to my first Wores Meeting.
She shackled those over and over, heart in the lens to help all the colleagues have pretty galeries for their work by feeling safe and avoiding doing it with a perverse photographer.
I remember her energy. She was solar in real life, sometimes icy online and I relate to that.
She held her own load and it has been a journey that I followed online. It hasn’t been easy journey, not at all. But she was there. She took the street, she painted, recorded herself.
“Slut and painter”, I’m here I exist.
She rapped, sang and doors were closed to her because of who she was - a hooker.
She owned art. And she had a lot of love, that I could swear. And now she is just not there anymore.
I’m gonna tell you how I feel. ‘Cause right now, there is rough in me.
In my opinion, death is not an end. Indeed, I believe that Zelda is somewhere else, surely better than this shitty dimension surrounded by shitty selfishness.
So a part of me is at peace.
But there is no place for it.
If I’m honest with myself and with you: I want to burn everything. Want to burn down the government, want to burn the politicians, want to burn you, want to burn the human race.
I’m mad. Because at the slut walks, we are not enough. And we should be present. Because the whores are always put aside. AND BECAUSE OUR FUCKING LIVES COMMIT SUICIDE DUE TO YOUR INDIFFERENCE AND INACTION.
We are going to clear things up. This post is not blaming. This post exposes a fact and YOU feel guilty.
Notice the shade.
Cause it pisses you off to lacerate your mouth constantly to know if you should speak with violence and honesty or with pedagogy and patience. Because it pisses you off that we are always taken back or invisible. While the truth is that you don’t care !
YOU DON’T CARE !
Don’t you think ? You think that I’m projecting. OK honey. Put yourself in defense-cowardice mode.
I’m going to rephrase it into a fact: you don’t care enough, at least to a point where you don’t go to protests.
YOU DON’T CARE, AT LEAST TO A POINT WHERE YOU DON’T TAKE THREE SECONDS OF YOUR LIFE TO CLICK ON THE “SHARE” BUTTON.
AH. Are you scared ? Are you ashamed?
Do you think it’s an excuse ? Do you think it’s funny to see your colleagues dying because people are scared and ashamed ? Do you think that your fear, shame or every other of your shitty excuses is more important than our lives ?
Honey, I speak with my heart and it’s my right to do so.
My colleague is dead. And for me the world is accountable.
YEAH.
Cause her life had worth. Because all of our lives have worth and no more importance is attached to it ?
And why ? “Because life” ?
Shut up. It’s not life that leads to death.
“Oh you know, with my job and all”.
Shut up but shut the fuck up. We arrived at a point where this bullshit system to which we bow down because we believe it is essential to our lives, does not even take it into account. We reached a point where we confuse “life” with “confort” or “money”. And for that, we sold our hearts.
We don’t have any human characteristic left. We are just societal. Economical.
This is what we are. And we are scared of the robots arrival.
It’s war in my head. And at the same time it’s nothing anymore.
Zelda is dead, I will not cross her anymore here. We die and I don’t know even know what to write, what to say, how to be fair or just ethical.
Because everything that I face is indifference. And when it’s not the case then it’s critics.
I have finished writing. And I’m too lost to know if what I wrote is rude. If it’s soiled to mix Zelda to my anger. I don’t know. It’s just what I feel and I don’t want to put any filter on it.
I don’t want your bruised ego nor your culpability. I don’t want your words. I want actions, concrete support.
I want you to move your ass and fight for us to stop dying.
Because it isn’t second degree when I say that we are dying.
And it’s not something new at all.
Rest in peace Zelda. I have no doubt that you are better than here, it’s not hard to believe.
Where you are, there shouldn't be any insult, harassment, violences, abolitionists, people who are sure of their certainties about a job they have never done.
Where you are, there should not be this feeling of being a recluse in society, as if the most important was to be included in this mass of murderous shit. There shouldn't be precariousness and a slice of toast spread with air. There must not be any December. And no insults, still no. No rejection. No looks from the top, no fetishization, no spitting, no humiliation. No shame, no denunciation, no withdrawal of children. No cops, no government, no laws, no family rejection. Not all of this endless list of everything we continue to endure here.
I hope so. I don’t know anything. I can only send you the rest of the love I have that begs me to get out of my body, because my anger burns it.
Rest in peace. Rest empowered. You already illuminated the world well and my regret is that it didn’t illuminate you in return.
But you know how it works: they don’t care”.
Feel free to share. And thanks to @amand_witz for the translation.
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