This Way Out

by Tufayel Ahmed

It feels unfair and sad to me that these innocent little things might one day subscribe to idiosyncrasies inherited from previous generations, the origins of which have become more indeterminate and diluted with each new one.

My niece sits on her lap, almost like a shield – something to protect her from having to be part of this most uncomfortable showdown.

I am angry, too, at God. If being gay is a sin, how could a kind and merciful god make me this way? Make my life so difficult? It is cruel and unjust to be punished for what I can’t control. I never chose to be attracted to men, to fall in love with a man, and there have been so many times I’ve considered how much easier my life would be if I were like Abed or Asad or any of the other Bengali boys. But I can’t live a lie. I have to live my truth.

White people, in my experience, tend to be a little hostile and uncomfortable when confronted about their blind spots when it comes to race or culture. It’s almost like the accusation of racial or cultural bias is more offensive than the behaviour itself.

The intangible nature of belief can be frightening.’

‘Because you are a good person. You don’t need to put on a performance for the world to prove it,’

‘She sounds like my mother-in-law. Trust me, they never stop interfering. The key is to distract them with grandkids,’