Dernière mise à jour : 31 juil. 2021
What happened to Samuel Luiz, 24 yo nurse, last weekend in Spain is unacceptable! It’s deeply unfair and shocking.
They were 12. 12 men. 12 assaillants against a weak prey. They bruised his face. One of them, the one who called out his friends for brawling, pretended Samuel tried to record pics of him with his phone. Samuel wanted to make a video call likewise any of us can try to do when we are out from a nightclub. We all rather prefer not to text messages.
No insult: these 12 are simply cowards and losers. But I’m afraid our world is full of losers!
No one deserves that barbarism. No girls no matter how short the skirt or the short is. No one deserves it. No old person, no mother, no faggot, no Black, no queer. No one. There’s no explanation to this violence.
When I talk about violence, I see many episodes of my childhood in Douala. I remember, on Sundays, after the church service, on our way back home, there were some unbelievable scenes of violence. A man burnt alive on overlaid wheels. The crowd, always the mass of people screaming like salvages and bloodthirsty wolves: “Let’s kill him! Burn him! He’s a faggot. Kill him! He’s devil! Go to hell!” Instead of waiting for papa God’s return, on the famous awaited day of Last judgement, no, they decided to do the job themselves. They decide who and how to send you to hell.
Not just faggot. In Douala, my native land, mob justice was usual and still is. Things are even getting worse, in the name of Jesus. Poor Him! In my childhood, violence was the norm. People never trust justice and State’s institutions. Corruption is a national sport and abuse of authority a common sense.
Are you suspected to be a stealer? The beat you up. Seriously! Are you suspected of being faggot because too womanish with a girlish voice? Beat up! Humiliation. Are you suspected to cheat your husband? He beats you up and the crowd applauses. Them shout: Bravo! You’re a real man!
I grew up with violence. Violence everywhere around me. A burst of violence at any time. You never know. My parents brought me up showing me how to avoid the worst. My mother often told me my body is always endangered. It’s a fact. The problem is how to avoid something when you can’t see. You have been blinded by your soul. You can’t imagine somebody will harm you for what you are. You can’t imagine your existence gives nightmares to people. You can’t imagine your smile can be a crime.
I love Spain and I have already been in A Corunia in the Northern area. I can recall well its famous Torre de Hercules. My home city Douala is not as beautiful as A Corunia. But still, it’s very beautiful. At first sight people are very welcoming. For real, they are. They are lovely and welcoming people. But I don’t know why, out of a sudden, without any reason, in the flow of happiness, there is a spectacular scene of violence. I remember a guy, that guy! He was beat up by policemen because his handsome male neighbour called the police. He told them he received a message. The text: “I love you”. He loved his neighbour. He wrote that to him: here was his crime. Outrageous crime, over there! He was detained for long. I think he passed over in Douala’s central prison. Voilà!
I grew up with violence. Violence everywhere around me. I can’t even draw it. Now, I see it was a living hell. Someone could be killed because of a football arguments. “- Oh I told you Samuel Eto’o is the best! – Oh I see you don’t know Ronaldo!” And bim! A punch in your face! Violence for a beer issue. “- Oh why did you touch my beer bottle? - Oh who the fuck are you that I can’t drink your beer?” They fight. Gladiator’s fight. Glass splinters. Knifes. People’s shouts enfire the passion. No way to run away or to avoid the face-à-face. Man no run. You are in the bullring. You must fight. If you don’t, you’re not a man. They can mock at you. They can say you are faggot. Faggot? No, I better die. There you go. No referee. Just people shouting around and encouraging foolishness. Today, with the IT, they will even take pictures of the fight. They put it online aftermaths. No, it’s live. Suddenly, a scream. There’s always a scream to calm down everybody. Bloodshed. Silence. Distress. Stupidity has a name: stupidity. The wound must be as deep as the pain. Some people smile and leave: the show has come to the end. Some other will laugh aloud: “Stand up thug! You a man yes or no?!” The mass will boo you or mock you. It’s all red around me. Red Sea. Here, there’s no commandments. You shall kill. The guilty is hailed for being a man, a real man.
I grew up with violence. Violence everywhere around me. Surrounding me. From little kids to adults. An uncle who beats up his wife. That woman, a mother, who beats up her own child, from her own womb to blood. She puts pepper on open wounds and leaves her child, her teenager out on a tropical ruthless sun. “That way, no man will chat you up again!” Whatever happens, it’s the girl’s fault. Men are King-Kong!
People always applause. The mass always applause. The mass forgets quickly. They kill each other and there up, the authorities steal. They are violent too. Really violent towards their own people likewise colonists were towards them. The circle of violence. Redundant violence. New dominants, same victims. It never stops. The authorities accept violence, they encourage it. They torture. A limitless evil. When someone disappears, please don’t look for him. Mostly if he was politically engaged and never shut his mouth up.
What happen to Samuel, is not just what I’m used to call banality of discrimination including the horrible word racism (because what comes first? Race or racism? Which one generates the other?) Banality of discrimination is when violence (in words, physically, in thoughts, etc.) becomes a commonplace. It is the violence we’ve got used to. President got slapped or even killed! – may God helps Haiti. It’s the violence we tend to accept. Unconsciously. Wrongly! It’s the kind violence we don’t want to face nor eradicate because we think it can be, somehow, the victim’s fault. He shouldn‘t have made a video call. She shouldn’t have worn that skirt. It’s the violence we try to explain even when it’s unexplainable. It’s the violence we, as queers, have admitted it can happen to us.
The undeniable homophobic nature of Samuel’s assault isn’t just barbarism, not just banality of discrimination, it’s a political act and must be considered in that way. I’ve never believed those haters are mentally unstable. Nope! They know exactly what they do. They don’t have any brake. They attacked, the bruise, they beat up, strongly, seriously. Merciless. They aim to damage the body. They want to kill. It’s their desire: kill faggots. The prevarications of the EU with Poland and other European countries is nothing but simply damageable. The world of sport with UEFA Champion’s league or what we saw recently in Hungary with the rainbow flag (which doesn’t have a black line!) in a stadium is damageable. We must be firm and act firmly against these kinds of crimes. Because the criminals are them, not Samuel. Our determination to fight those political acts must be firm and effective. Homophobia must be condemned like rape.
Actually, it’s the rape of souls!