No Queer Parties in Paradise
No queer parties in paradise
I’ve been reflecting on the insane privilege I’ve had to perform at VEIL by @kerfew_au at @miscellania_
As a refugee, living in exile, with no prospects of ever returning “home”, the urge to just hide under a rock for the rest of my life is overwhelming. To drag myself out of the deep depression that the asylum process left me in has been like climbing an underwater mountain with concrete bricks the size of Malé for shoes.
I feel so conflicted about it all sometimes. The miasma of survivors guilt hangs heavy on my soul.
So to manage to finish my album, and to have the privilege of performing it to a crowd of fellow queer South Asians still feels quite surreal.
There was even another Maldivian in the crowd - bringing the total Dhivehin in the building to three. Previously the only other person at my shows who could even understand the lyrics was my partner.
Lyrics I pour my heart and soul into, that only a minuscule fraction of the world understands. Dhivehi is only spoken by Dhivehin, Maldivians, and there are less than half a million of us on the planet. Yet somehow people were still dancing.
Despite my pride, despite my happiness in executing my artist vision, there are still no queer parties in paradise.
Queer Maldivians are forced to live double lives just to stay safe, while tourist resorts encourage the global queer elite to visit with their pink dollars. Queer Maldivians do not have the privilege of having a party for themselves like this. To celebrate existing in a world that denies their existence so as not to ruin people’s vacations.
So what do I do? I feel so tired. But I have made my choice. Through my art and music I have to keep on becoming something the world cannot ignore. My “home” has changed. But I cannot forget where I came from, and the battles that are still being fought.
All the love in the world does not make it a safe place. There can be no queer parties in paradise until we are all safe.
Photos by @silverrstarr___