Look Me In the Eye, Tell Me To My Face
By Isra Zia | Oct 13, 2022
When I was 17 or 18 years old, there was a wave of uproar in Pakistan (the country’s fast and furious moods are quite common) against LGBT rights that were transforming some part of the western world. It goes without saying that our countrymen had strong opinions—though none of these policies were impacting us—and were taking to the streets (actually just social media, men don’t usually take to the streets) to voice their anger.
I was young—this was a time when I thought replying to bigots online was worthy of my time, my anger, and my sanity. I furiously typed back to as many people as I could, getting replies attacking my ethics and morals, my religious sanctity, my family—anything that was mine. It was during this fury that I was asking, ‘Where? Where is the test you took at birth to confirm that you are straight? How do you think that you are better than someone else?’
I had forgotten about this incident until a few days ago, when Dr. Mehrub Moiz Awan, a Khawaja Sira activist, was invited to a morning show, to counter the lies propagated by a certain religious political party about Pakistan’s Transgender Act of 2018, about how the bill allows and encourages homosexuality in the ‘Islamic Republic’ of Pakistan. Dr. Awan challenged, “Where is the medical test that can prove sexual orientation? Show me the medical institution that carries it out. You cannot, because there is none.”
It is easy to create the arguments to propagate bigotry: religious text, legal precedence, politics. It is a rhetoric that is created in heated opposition, with a sense of finality, with aggressive citations from sacred edicts. It is all done in an air space above us—no one will ever be qualified to have the final word. The challenge is when you ask your oppressor to come down to earth. Look me in the eye, tell me to my face. When you see my eyes, my hands, when you see that we have the same scar of a blunt needle on our arms from a childhood vaccination, when you see me smile at my mom, hold my sister's hand, and laugh at my dad’s joke—do you hate me? Or do you hate that you relate to me? Do you hate that the disgust you painted me with is reflected in the mirror?
At 28, I’ve decided I’m happy with my chosen mission in life. I want the underdogs to win. The bullies are in the majority. If I find myself on the same side of the argument as the majority, I know something is wrong (there are exceptions to this, let’s work under the assumption that life, liberty, kindness are accepted majority premises). I only ask that you try to see the humanity of those you attack and carry contempt for. Look at someone—really look at them. Make it personal. Don’t treat them as a number, a statistic, or an example in a debate. Treat them as a human being, placed on this earth to breathe the same air you do.
I love the idea of Kamli—women getting together, sharing power and lending strength. There is potential for everybody to grow and create. This dastarkhaan is wide and open—there is space for all of us.
- Isra
