Bubble

I often say that to be Cypriot is to live with the knowledge of impermanence and instability. At any moment, things, life, might change. Being a tiny, powerless island between Europe, Africa and Asia, we accept that Fate (taking the form of larger powers) will have its way with us, and all we can do is cope as best we can. Live for now, we tell ourselves, enjoy what you can when you can because tomorrow you may have nothing at all. I think of my diabetic grandma who, when I asked if she should be eating that chocolate, shrugged and said: “What, should I die hungry?”

That’s my dispiriting way of saying I hate the world right now. I hate that a bigoted rapist criminal has (once again) become the most powerful man in the world, with the gleeful backing of the worst billionaire dweeb who ever lived, supported by the ‘feminist’ billionaire who spends her days painting a minority group as a threat to women and children from within her mouldy castle while ignoring the daily slaughter of women and children.

And I hate that we have to keep reminding ourselves to be hopeful and to keep fighting, when we shouldn’t have to still be fighting anyone like Trump and Musk and Rowling in 2024. I hate that hate has taken over, because the worst people know how to exploit the worst lessons from history. Demonise, divide, disempower.

Back when I started uni, 20 years ago, I never once suspected that misinformation and the mistrust of science and experts would define this age. How could it be possible? But this is the way things have unfolded, and as heartbroken and bewildered as I am, I know that all I can do is acknowledge that it has happened. This is the state of things now, like it or not. Now, cope.

That’s not to say I’m totally shocked by any of it. My first inkling of anti-vax sentiment came when I first moved to the UK and heard people repeat the (even then immediately debunked) conspiracy theory linking the MMR jab to autism. I recall Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, the fear of gays in locker-rooms, the comparisons of queer men to dangerous paedophiles. The whole ‘paedomania’ of the early 2000s, stoked by the right-wing rags, which even led to a Welsh paediatrician being attacked by angry mobs who misunderstood the poor man’s job title.

I grew up in Cyprus. I waded through a sea of hate every day, be it from our homophobic, nationalist Church or the Turk-fearing refugees and ex-soldiers that made up so much of our population in the South. Evil was committed on both sides, as well as everyone who interfered with or ignored us – we should all recognise by now that the world isn’t black and white. But some people find comfort in anger and hate, because it empowers them.

Why should I try to empathise with these people? Why accept those who seem to regard politics as a football match, acting like smug yobs when they ‘win’? Trivialising others’ rights to ‘beat the libs’, what buffoons. Why should they have my time and patience and understanding?

I’ve tried to battle these types. I remind myself of times when I resisted bigotry and misinformation.

Raising my hand to object when, in England, my Psychology teacher – a man progressive enough to teach us about queer and even trans identities while Section 28 was still alive – told the room that all Muslims were celebrating 9/11.

My more silent rebellions, such as when I stopped speaking to a group of Cypriots I was initially happy to meet at uni, after two of them eyed up a Black woman and made comments to each other about her in our tongue.

But I find myself growing weak, increasingly hopeless. I objected to a friend’s husband in Cyprus as he ranted about Syrians, but mainly I was just dismayed by his attitudes.

On the whole, I’ve stopped engaging with right-wingers. On social media, I simply ignore, mute and block. Accuse me of being in a bubble — so what? It’s my right. I don’t know how to explain to people that other lives matter, and I don’t have to tolerate anyone who refuses to regard fellow humans as human. In 2024, we find ourselves helplessly watching a genocide, thousands of children being ripped to shreds daily, and there are still people frothing about gendered toilets. Lock me in a bubble, gladly, throw away the bubble key. For as long as I’m alive, I want to spend my time with people who understand humanity and compassion; who seek to make society more beautiful, welcoming, creative, wondrous, inquisitive, inclusive.

There are so many of us. Even if our elections and party leaders say otherwise, I know that there are literal billions of people around the world who understand what it means to be part of a society.

I’m done with bigots. Shut them out, banish them from the world’s village. The rest of us can live in peace, in our own community. What, am I gonna die angry?