And that’s weird to me. As an artist with depressive inclinations, my natural state is bitterness. Being mad at the world and angry with myself is when I thrive. I am too cynical for my age and capitalism gives me excuses to get more upset every day. It’s lovely if you ask me. In a world where sharing honest feelings is labelled as oversharing, I chose to use the little truths as weapons; sharp daggers I shall throw to anyone that comes to me intending to share their wisdom about finding the silver lining. The silver lining is my daggers, thank you very much.

But as much as I love being angry all the time (I hate my job, I want to become a star and get paid handsomely), I must admit that the universe is giving me a challenge lately.

For us queers, safety is a pendulum, and our freedom is defined by how much our existence is permitted. Lately, I was feeling odd about my queerness. I am lucky enough that I am perceived as a cis man by the system, and I am well aware of all the privileges I squeeze out of society. This said, in 2024 I attended drag queen shows in bars where there were empty seats, and the discourse was a bit gloomy. I have felt lately that the streets are more violent, not only for queer people but in general. London will always be London, although sometimes I feel like I am living in the next dystopian remake of Escape From New York, Escape From London. There is something about being queer that feels scary lately. I don’t know how to pinpoint or explain it, but I can feel it in my bones.

On Saturday, 27th of July, I went to trans pride.

And I felt love. I believed that we were free as who we were. I felt protected, and happy. I saw trans flags and Palestinian flags.

I felt hope.

The streets of the UK not only feel violent for the queers. The streets of the UK feel violent and not safe for anyone that’s not white. On Monday, 29th of July, it was reported that three young girls were fatally stabbed in Southport. The right-wing hive mind falsely claimed that the suspect was a Muslim asylum seeker. The cascade of horror that ensued disgusted me, awakening feelings I forgot I had. I thought we were beyond this, I thought we were beyond the wilful ignorance of the working class being pawns of the interest of the rich. I thought we were beyond petty racism. I thought we were beyond people blaming immigrants for the scarcity of the job market.

I have seen (on the internet) working-class people stop cars at roundabouts to check the colour of the skin of the driver and other occupiers and act upon it. I have seen scary patriotism and anger that I thought I would never witness in my lifetime. It felt like a WW2 documentary or a black mirror episode. Something that does not belong in this time and age.

Fascists and racists convoked ‘demonstrations’ across the UK, and in a turn of events, more anti-fascists and anti-racists showed up, generating interesting headlines and pictures.

On Monday, the 12th of August, Abdullah, a 29-year-old security guard, intervened to stop a knife attack in Leicester Square. A knife attack against a child and her mother. The right-wing hive mind chooses to ignore this.

The same day, Elon Musk and Trump tried to have an interview/discussion on Twitter, which turned out to be a sad disaster. A sad disaster because Mr Musk couldn’t get the technical part right, Mr. Trump’s lisp and slurred speech have become unbearable and more importantly, they both have made fun of terminating workers and unions. Elon Musk has been named in a criminal complaint filed to French authorities among other lovely people such as Miss gender detective herself, J.K. Rowling, over alleged ‘acts of aggravated cyber harassment’ against Algerian boxer Imane Khelif.

On August 14th, former Prime Minister Liz Truss stormed off stage showing severe signs of having ‘no sense of comedy’ or ‘self-awareness’, when a lovely group of revolutionist truth-tellers called Led by Donkeys (most amazing name ever) unrolled a banner of a lettuce with googly eyes that said: I crashed the economy.

Liz Truss said, very upset (you can tell because she behaves like a toddler), that was not funny when clearly, it is very funny because she was wearing a lettuce green dress.

I am tired of living through historical moments. Tired of being fed into the machine. I am scared sometimes and physically exhausted most of the time. I am so angry that billionaires get to do and say whatever they want. I am tired of the far right hive mind talking foolishness without repercussions, and tired that working-class people who do not submit to the game of the knights and bishops are being punished with their voices being removed by the algorithm.

But I am hopeful.

Like walking through the ashes of a forest that was burnt once in a terrible fire caused by evil spirits. And then, under the sun and the blue sky, beauty finds its way. Dirty, small, and ashen, one spots a green sprout among the dry dirt. The ground will be nurtured with the nitrogen of the old embers, and more grassy shoots will follow. Weak at first, lonely and secular, they will all come together to give birth to a new forest, a new world.

Maybe this is our time, the time of the bohemians, the artists and the revolutionaries. This is the time of telling the racist to shut up, the time to make fun of incompetent politicians, and the time to advocate for what’s fair.

The time to have radical thoughts like not wanting children to be murdered.

I am hopeful that beauty will save the world.