“There is not in the world one single poor lynched bastard, one poor tortured man, in whom I am not also murdered and humiliated”

–          Aime Cesarie


It’s almost as if there are no words for this pain. Emails rush in – Ferguson, Perth, Nairobi, Chicago, Hong Kong, Mandera and more. Names are gathered; Trayvon, Kwekwe, Nyamweya, Osebe, Marrisa, Brown, him, her, them, they. Humanity aches. We feel the pain, share the pain.

A people in mourning.

We have to live. So we go to meetings, barely able to pay attention. Feeling isolated in our compassion, together.


What is the

collective noun

for a gathering of

lonely people?



All the lonely people, where do they all come from?

–          The beatles.


So we reach out. We reply to emails. We organise. Letters of solidarity are sent across the world. We remind each other: “You are necessary,” “you are special,” “you are needed,” “you are loved,”

“you are not alone”

“you are not alone”


Because we know. We know that being alone when the world is structured against you is hard. Harder still when you decide to pay attention to this structure and begin the work of dismantling it. So we take care of each other – no one else will…

…and that must count for something.

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