Elia, who grew up in Lebanon, takes us on a profound journey across lands, cultures, and into liminality— both the in-between and the periphery— where he feels belonging has the potential to be more generative. Through the lens of radical histories and cultural studies, Elia discusses a myriad of topics and ideas, such as: languages, autism, social constructs, whiteness, diaspora connections, some current passions, and more. Throughout this impassioned narration, Elia encourages us to be with the many unknowns as we embrace the impermanence of everything— including the dominant and violent structures we are up against— creating better futures together.

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SPEAKERS

Elia, carla, Jamie-Leigh,

Welcome to On Belonging, an audio series to connect us. On Belonging explores why so many of us are feeling called to find a deeper sense of belonging, whether with our ancestors or to land where we live, and beyond.

These powerful stories and conversations are an invitation into the lives and landscapes of the guests' worlds, offering pathways towards remembering and finding more belonging.

The following narration features Joey Ayoub, and was recorded in the summer of 2023.

Okay, my name is Joey Ayoub. My relationship to my identity is pretty complicated. I would say, I grew up in a very specific place at a specific time, Lebanon and the 90s. And up until basically, less than a decade ago now. My origins in terms of ancestry are largely Mediterranean, you might say, there's my grandmother's Italian grandfather, Palestinian other grandfather, Argentinian not so much Mediterranean in that case, and then other grandmother Lebanese, but I kind of grew up with the sense that I didn't necessarily belong in any of the categories, at least not in the way they were presented to me at the time, I always felt uncomfortable with that kind of "what you are" being one box kind of thing. It's why early on, I found a lot of resonance with diaspora experiences, folks that have like those hyphenated identity, you know, African-American, or what have you, because that kind of allows at least more than one thing to exist at the same time. And I'm more comfortable with that. I guess you might say, I've had this anti authoritarian streak in me for a while, as for as I can remember, anyway. So yeah, and so my and also, my connection to my family tree, let's say, is also complicated. I'm not particularly close with older relatives, some of them have taken a different route than I have, we might say. And I used to struggle with that. Now I'm but more, I would say at least I've made my peace with it. And I'm currently living in Switzerland. I've been here since 2020. And before that, I was in the UK for four years, between London and Edinburgh. And I guess I also feel a bit of attachment with the UK, not so much with Switzerland. So that's why I am for now, I needed some stability. And it provided that at the very least so for now we're here, my wife and I. So because I grew up in a specific place in a specific time, since leaving that place since leaving Lebanon, although I try and go back here and there, I found myself re-questioning or questioning first and then questioning that questioning some of the certainties that I had growing up of where I belong, or what I belong to maybe what kind of project I usually like, going up was like a national project, you might say, because they then didn't really necessarily align with my values as I had seen them at the time. And since then, they are just obviously more developed, the more that being said, I don't necessarily feel that I belong here, either. And here being Europe. And I think I'm getting closer to accepting that the very framework of belonging, maybe usually needs to be more flexible than it is allowed to be, if that makes sense. What I am at my current age of like 32 is not the same as what I was 10 years ago. Even though my nationalities if you want, or national backgrounds haven't changed. I haven't acquired any new ones. They're the same, but my relationship to them has changed. The centrality that they used to have being, you know, being Argentinian and Lebanese was this thing that I used to talk about with some friends, for example, and that was a way of positioning myself visa vie them. And so I kind of understood if you want at some, at some point down the line that it was much more about how comfortable I was with myself as literally me and that was informing how I related to these categories, whether it's the nationality ones as I mentioned, whether it was class, because in Lebanon I was technically middle class, whereas here I'm technically working class, and the category of migrant moving to London just before Brexit, stuff like that. Being seen as an Arab and in most people's kind of mind, Arab equals Muslim and I don't come from a Muslim background and kind of struggling with all of that, which I am happy to get into because it is a complicated but fascinating history.

So as someone who grew up in the Lebanese Christian household, I was told from a pretty young age, especially in school, much more so than in the household, that like, we are a particular group of people, we are special basically, usually not framed in those specific terms, but that was essentially the message. And we are not like them, the them being Muslims. And you have different variations of this, from the most xenophobic to the more like, you know, living let live kind of thing. But it was always like, we are different, we are our own thing. And in and of itself, that's not necessarily bad. A community feeling like it is a community that in and of itself, not a bad thing. But that coincided if you want that kind of explanation or interpretation of what my identity should be, with the events that you might call, you know, 911. And then the invasion of Iraq, I was 10 in 911, 12 in the invasion of Iraq , and in 2006 there was the war between Israel and Hezbollah, I was 15. And all of this later on, at the time, it wasn't that conscious if you want. But later on, I understood that there was always this need, basically, to distance myself in one way or another from all of that, whatever all of that meant. And that was very rarely a conscious thing. That was like a, I think it was a self preservation instinct. I remember very well, I was at Heathrow Airport. And I basically had to say, in London, and I basically had to say like, I'm not a Muslim, to the border guard, because there was that kind of insinuation if you want. And I didn't like any of it. But it was like, oh, this is what you do. In my community, or at least with the people that I knew growing up, this is what you do, you make sure to tell the people that you are a Christian, or in some cases, I was actually told in school, like when you travel abroad have a cross around your neck, stuff like that. And that I think created a very bizarre, or at least a very complicated, I would say I have a complicated relationship with where I come from much more at peace with it now than it was before. But also much less at peace, if you want with where I am now, which is Europe, because Europe is in many ways, the source of a lot of those contradictions.

Let me start with Christianity coded as whiteness. This is the most peculiar thing to be honest. And it's still something that I have difficulties in reconciling with just what I know, my experience was growing up. And this was before having kind of a political consciousness if you want connecting things to like the war on terror, and all of that stuff, and Islamophobia and whatnot. But I grew up in a household where we spoke Arabic and French mixing. And going to church was in Arabic for the most part. In some cases, some of the chants would be in Syriac or Aramaic, some Latin here and there, and sometimes French, depending on what Mass it used to be. And, and I keep on saying this, because it's so contrary to, I'm going to say 90%, of peoples' experiences. But I did not know that the word Allah meant just God in general, I just thought, let me put it this way. I thought that when I heard Muslims, that they also use the word Allah, that surprised me. Because I thought that Allah meant Jesus, I thought that those two were the same, Son of God, and all of that. And so the fact that in my, at some point, growing up, I was getting into movies, I just did a PhD on cinema, I would watch these American movies that were like, available everywhere. And there was always this contrast between the Muslim and us, quote, unquote, and the us usually was Christian, or at least coded Christian, if not religiously, maybe in a secular fashion, which I think but I think those categories can be problemanized. And I remember very well there was this movie, probably a bad one I watched a long time ago, right after 911. That was about 911. And it was basically like the Muslims on the plane saying things related to Allah or whatever, and the Christians on the plane praying to Jesus or whatever. And for me, those two were the same thing. So I was very confused. And I was generally that's when I started kind of developing a bit of a political consciousness, you might say, but it did not make sense and because it did not make sense, I couldn't reconcile that with what I was being told both in Lebanon and from without Lebanon about what I am supposed to be. There's a lot of pressure on the one hand of just being part of some kind of pan Arab project although these days not so much. That was before 2011 Yeah, 2011 with the Arab Spring, and in Lebanon, I was actually encouraged to actually be more Western quote unquote, and less Arab quote, unquote, again, usually not in those exact same terms. So it was kind of coded that way. And that led to distancing from both, where I was quite literally living like my context. But also that other place the West, that supposedly was poor me, whatever that meant, but genuinely couldn't care less. And it really hit home when I literally moved to the UK, most people that were like anti Muslim did not know what to look for when they thought of a Muslim I, as far as they're concerned, just looks like another Muslim, because a Muslim is vaguely a brown person or whatever. And, more specifically, as well, like when I learned a lot about this very specific type of Christianity in the US that is very, very anti Palestinian, that also kind of blew my mind a bit in the beginning before kind of,I did my Masters on Israel/Palestine. But so before studying it, it definitely blew my mind at the beginning. Because for me, it's like, but Jesus was from there. Like, I don't care about the categories, but for me, because it's very straightforward. Like literally they're like, that's literally the place where Jesus is from; and Palestinian Christians have that relationship that maybe not like in an ancestral type of way, because, you know, they genuinely believe that Jesus himself did not have children or whatever. But in a cousin kind of like, you know, oh, Jesus was my cousin kind of joke. But it's not entirely a joke, if you see what I mean, like there is a bit of a kinship there, that my relationship growing up with, with the figure, like there was seen as the Messiah wasn't a relationship between me and a stranger. And he is a stranger, I don't mean like, even in a religious sense, I mean, quite literally looking like me. And the fact that Jesus in America was like, so white, and all of these things that I grew up, like, I got really into comedy. I remember Jon Stewart joking about like, you know, Jesus being a white person, all of that stuff. All of that kind of wasn't in the background of my mind a lot of the time when I was kind of thinking of who I am and all of that identity. And I think it's part of the reason why many folks are surprised to learn of why so many diaspora Lebanese end up being right wing, it's not that dissimilar from the Hindutva phenomenon that we see in the UK and parts of Canada and the US, because it's really about being the quote, unquote, good migrant. And the only way you can do that is by throwing other people under the bus. It's really that straightforward, because that's how you become white. We know this about, you know, Irishness and Jewishness in the US and Italianness, especially as well, how they became white, referencing that book, How the Irish Became White, it's not that dissimilar with the Lebanese. But it has interesting nuances, that in some sense, the process was never completed. That you, it's very rare to see like, you know, anti Irish bigotry or anti Italian bigotry or the anti semitism is a different thing very much still with us. But anti Lebanese hatred can still be part of like anti Arab hatred or Islamophobia. Of course, if you're a Lebanese Muslim, you know, and all of that they're still in othering, that I think many Lebanese wanted to get rid of. Lebanese Christians specifically wanted to get it off by kind of integrating or trying to integrate into this whiteness thing. But I don't necessarily think it works, if you want, or maybe the timing was wrong. In France is the closest thing I think I can think of where it quote unquote, was the most complete version of that in which like, the Lebanese French, for the most part, see themselves as a separate category, from like, the Algerian French or the Moroccan French, or what have you. And usually, it has to do with a secular, again, quote, unquote, form of Christianity in terms of like, culturally, we're different or whatever. So yeah, it's a complicated thing, really. But honestly, because of that, and because of my very, because of my background, and things that I know for a fact, were true. Like, I know, we know that Jesus was born there. We know that it's not very far from where I grew up. And, it's actually even closer from what my grandfather grew up as a Palestinian Christian. And just there is this like, well, if this is the most important thing, and this was at the time when I was still, like, pretty religious, if this is really that important, why are Americans telling me anything really about Christianity? Why is there this? Why does it exist? And so that's when I obviously got into the politics of it all, that at the end of the day, this is a political matter. And nothing ever reinforces that more than when Palestinians are attacked by Israeli forces. And including like Palestinian Christians, like Shekinah, Barclay was better it was Christian and hearing, seeing the absence of this kind of like, oh, we must save Christians from the extremists or whatever, which you do see when the aggressors are Muslims. You see that. And that's why the Lebanese are so special in that worldview, because if you take the civil war that Lebanon went through in the 70s, and 80s, from a certain perspective, oh, well, it was all about Christians being victimized by Muslims. And that's not true. It was very, significantly more complicated than that. But if you don't want to look into it, you don't have to, because that narrative is easy to digest, to consume basically.

As I mentioned, I grew up speaking mostly French and Arabic. And in a very specific way, like my French has a Lebanese accent. My Arabic has a quote unquote, Francophone accent, depending on who you ask. And never completely one or the other. It was always mixed. I have difficulties to this day. I live in a francophone city, formulating sentences that are exclusively in French. And there are terms that are ridiculously basic, like, I don't know, fridge or whatever. That I wouldn't know, what is the word in Arabic, because I would use to saying la frigo or whatever. I mean, I do know what the word is. But these things are very like day to day stuff. That's because you… I grew up in a certain context where I just need to know it in one way or maybe two ways. And that was it. And so, if I do like, when I did get in French exam, I had some difficulties, because some of the words that were coming to me were Arabic. And same for when I did it in Arabic exam, for that matter. How do I say this, that liminality, if you want was inherent, like I just I never knew anything else. I can only name it that because I like to learn that this is not the experience of everyone, that there is actually this category that exists, which is liminality, there's in between this or whatever, this is what I am. But I'm only defining that in relation to what is quote unquote, the norm. And so I have a lot of problems with the norm. But for me English was the third language, because Lebanon wasn't colonized by the Brits, it was at one point occupied by the French. So I didn't have that relationship with the English that, you know, say an Indian person might have and the complexities that this comes with or, you know, Nigerian, or what have you, I didn't have that kind of relationship, because it was just this neutral language. I grew up in the 90s, early 2000s. Very much, it became very quickly the language of the internet. I saw myself as a loner, I was autistic, I didn't know it, all of that stuff. And I was able to find communities online, I was very much like a geek and a nerd. And you know, spending a lot of time on the internet. And that was like 95% of the time in English. And that just became my thing. Like, I became very good at English. Very good at Englishing. And I, you know, was the top of my class in English in school. And I was exempted from the final exam, because my teacher thought I didn't need it, and you know, stuff like that. And it was always this thing that was very effortless for me. And it's how I got into my love of reading. The first book that I really read in English was the Harry Potter series that I grew up with. I more recently have been having many more complicated feelings about it due to JK Rowling’s transphobia, all of that stuff. But it was because, and this is a true story, like I got the first two books in French. But then I was so into it that I was unable to wait for the translation to come out because it was always four months after three or four months after. And so I would eat in English, and my cousin would help me at the time. And then at some point, I picked it up on my own. And that's how I got to English. Like it's really that simple. And so for me the story of English in my life is not anything else other than it was a very straightforward, like there was this set of words that I absorbed that allowed me to communicate or to research or to what have you things that were on the internet, and then books via that first book, and then the orders and so on and so forth. And then my undergrad was in English, my master's was in English and my PhD has been in English. And a lot of my work is in English. My writing skills are only good in English, basically. And the other languages I can write, but it's more difficult. It's not as natural, you might say. And it's the only thing that I could say. And this is where it gets a bit complicated that I've ever really had the choice in. It can be a bit problematized because like to what extent is English really a choice these days is a question mark, but in the way I grew up anyway, it definitely felt like that, that's the association I have. And so I don't have this relationship with the English language that I do with French for that matter because of the French occupation because of the very complicated thing with whiteness among Lebanese French for example, I was born in France, but I'm not a citizen. So I have a lot of cousins there. And there's very much this like, oh we speak 80% French and 20% Lebanese Arabic. And that's like, that's how you differentiate yourself from the others who are, you know, "the others" who are like Algerians or what have you. And once I started problematizing all of this, I was always pretty much on the left and then became even more on the left and what have you, that became more of a thing to question like I didn't want to accept, if that makes sense. And English allowed me to do that. That's just a fact for me. And so I completely recognize, I know, intellectually, I know, of course, why that can be problematic, especially if like other languages get engaged in the process, which tends to be the case, but it's sort of the feeling I have towards Spanish as well, I speak it and it was like my fourth language, and it's neutral. Because of that. It doesn't have this, like, you know, the Spanish, the Spanish, Spaniards were not in Lebanon in that way, or what have you, there isn't that relationship. And because of that, I'm able to do as much as I can, anyway, to make that distinction, if that makes sense.

Arabic is a language. And it's, I'm sure, like, linguists have more specific ways of describing it. But it's a language. And it's also kind of a family of languages at the same time. There are ways in which the different dialects are mutually comprehensible, but always like to an extent. And the example that's usually given is that if you put the Moroccan and an Iraqi with one another, very difficult to really speak, except if they have a decent knowledge of Modern Standard Arabic, so the standardized version of Arabic and you know, then you have a class component. Because you learn that in school, you don't you don't speak it, no one actually speaks it out loud. And so Arabic had this dual dimension like it is the language I speak, when I speak Lebanese Arabic, or when I speak Levantine Arabic would be the technical term for it. And then Lebanese Arabic is the subgenre of that, you see what I mean? Also a subvariety of that. And when I speak with Syrians and Palestinians, especially, we have this thing in common because it's pretty similar. And Jordanians, to a lesser extent, but as well. But then when I speak to Egyptians, it depends on whether they know enough of my dialect, and I know enough of their dialect for us to be able to communicate properly. And so the further you go from where you grew up, the more that becomes pronounced if you want, and so with Iraqis or with Iraqis not as much but like with people from the Gulf, or people from North Africa, like Algeria, Morocco, especially in Morocco is a completely different thing. Moroccan Arabic Daraja. My relationship with them, language wise, gets more and more complicated. And so if I end up meeting them in the diaspora, it's not uncommon that basically we mix -- like Arabic and English or Arabic and French, which I happen to be pretty comfortable with. Because that's how I grew up and it gets, you know, there are different layers in which this can get complicated because I think it's also linked to borders, because borders in the Middle East and North Africa are arguably some of the worst in the world, they are definitely some of the worst in the world. Maybe the worst? I don't know how one would calculate those but it's up there as among the worst in the world in terms of violence in terms of lack of mobility. As a Lebanese, I need a visa pretty much everywhere in the Arab world except like Jordan and maybe one other country, I don't remember. You always need visas, you're always scrutinized. You're treated as a foreigner by the other Arab states, obviously by Israel even more so I can't even go to Israel as a Palestine as a Lebanese passport holder, for example, I would be literally breaking Lebanese law, and you have all of those limitations, which means that effectively when you meet other Arabs, statistically, you're pretty likely to do so in the diaspora, ie, mostly in the West, in some cases in the Gulf, like in the UAE, if you want, but pretty much pretty frequently it will be in the West. And so you know, in London, I got to know personally many more Syrians than I did in Lebanon. And that's weird, because if you think about it, because I moved to London in 2015, in Lebanon by then already had a million plus Syrian refugees in Lebanon, which is a small country, like statistically, rationally, well, clearly, I should have met many more Syrians, but meeting is a different thing than just seeing right? And because in Lebanon, you have all of those layers, class, sect, accent, all of that stuff, the supremacy the the Ethno nationalism, the xenophobia, the chauvinism, all of that stuff, even though I don't subscribe to them, they are there as like structures of like the there's a there's this word called bordering like you create borders-- is the process of creating borders. The most obvious one is like you build a wall. But that's not the only way of creating borders. There's a way in which you force people to speak in a certain way that creates a border between who they were, and who they have to be now. The particular experience of like Indigenous folks in what's now Canada, in the US, for that matter is pretty, you know, a pretty unfortunately, a pretty good example of that happening. That's a bordering process. And so Lebanon has had this version of this if you want. And me being in London, weirdly enough means that I was able to actually be more Arab, ironically, than being in Lebanon, which is weird, if you think about it. Because it was about like, where you come from, and not where you are anymore, where you live, because you live in the same place as those other folks. And I became increasingly so, more and more hostile. Maybe it is too much of a term, I don't want to make too much of a strong word, but I became uncomfortable with identities that are very strict, and that can only be inherited. Now, there is a caveat, because I don't think this applies to all cases, you know, Indigenous examples, I don't have issues with it, because their relationship with that is very different. Same for, like, you know, Jews or Kurds, like an identity that you inherit. But I don't see necessarily a problem with that, because for various reasons, it tends to be a bit more flexible than what I was used to, then then the identity that I grew up in, because it was very much an either or situation, you will either this. And if you're not this, if you're not this, if you don't take enough of the boxes, you are no longer this, and you can lose this basically. And so because of that hostile to nationalisms, in general, I am not comfortable with these fixed categories. And I see Arabic as being both within that kind of framework being both or let's say it can be part of the problem. And in some sense, it can be part of the solution. Because it really depends on how it is approached, is it approached from a very strict religious angle, for example, like often Muslims, who are conservative, would say things like, you know, the perfect language is the perfect of the Quran, because that's the language that was passed down to the Prophet Muhammad. And therefore the language of the Quran is what means we need to aspire to let's say that the modern version of that would be Modern Standard Arabic, if you want. And in that framework, then all of the dialects, quote unquote, or the regional varieties of Arabic, are kind of devalued. The reverse also happens, you have like Lebanese nationalists, that quite literally say that Lebanese Arabic is not Arabic, its Lebanese. If they are the more moderate of the nationalists, they say things like, well, we're influenced by Arabic, but we're not Arabic. We have all of those other origins, which is true. There are also these other origins, like Aramaic, notably, that this thing distinguishes Levantine Arabic from Egyptian Arabic, which has a lot of Coptic elements, for example, or Moroccan Arabic, which has a lot of Amazi elements, and so on and so forth. Forms of Iraqi Arabic can be influenced by Kurdish, for example. So you can be like, exclusivist about these things. And just saying, well, you're this and therefore you're not that. Or you can take the other approach of like, well, quite literally, we are unable to even agree what the one category has to be. So let's just accept that maybe it's okay not to have one. It's okay not to have this one category: being Arab, can actually be flexible. One can become one because right now, it's very difficult to become more like how does one become Arab? You inherited it mainly. And even then it's often like a patriotic thing, you inherited from the father much more than from the mother. So you have all of those complexities, if you want that for me, or are infused in the type of Arabic that we even speak, because the Arabic that I grew up with is not the same Arabic that let's say a, I don't know, a Nigerian Muslim who doesn't speak Arabic as a native language, but has learned it for religious reasons, may have a very different relationship with Arabic than the Arabic I grew up with. Because for me, it's the Arabic of the spoken Arabic just the day to day stuff that had to be flexible, had to be kind of street quote, unquote, which is different than most forms of Arabic that you see written in any case, because the Arabic that I speak, is not necessarily seen as a respectable Arabic, if you see what I mean, it's not, it's not the university level Arabic because my university level language is English, due to my undergrad and so on.

So I am basically technically currently in exile, I didn't think so at first, it's one of those weird things that I think the way it's usually thought about is that you become exiled and you pretty much immediately know, like the day you left, now you're exiled. And of course, that is the case for many folks, especially if you're like escaping something very concrete like persecution or something like that. In that case, in many, many cases you choose to the extent that this is a choice to leave, right, and then you become an exile. For me, it was more like I was already here. The circumstances in Lebanon changed. And my relationship or my positionality within all of that story also changed and became more dangerous for me. And therefore the place where I already was now is exile. And that's like to put it mildly, is bizarre. Like it's a weird experience. Because I was in the flat where I currently live, I became an exile. And so you know, the bed didn't change, the couch didn't change. My dogs are still my dogs, nothing else changed. But my status suddenly changed in my mind, because legally nothing changed either. I was a resident of Switzerland. And the day after I kind of realized what technically I'm in exile now, I just continued to be a resident of Switzerland. I didn't apply for asylum, there wasn't any legal need to change for bureaucratic and boring reasons. But so that kind of created a, I ended up reading a lot of books on exile. Let's put it that way. And on belonging, kind of being the other side of that coin in some sense. There is this amazing quote that is often attributed to Nikki Mahfouz, but apparently it's not him. But it's like you often see it as a gift, at least in some circles, basically saying like "Home is where your attempts to escape cease." I mean, I have some questions about that, let's say because home might still be something that you try to escape, but you still feel at home. That's certainly how many people feel about family, even if it's chosen families, and not just inherited ones. But for me, belonging ends up becoming this state of liminality, I guess, as well, or at least like an ever changing state. And so because of that it might be different than other forms of belonging, the Indigenous forms of belonging tend to be of course, kinship, of course land base, and I don't have that I have kinship some extent, I don't have the relationship to the land that I see them as having at least the books that I've read, because the land where I grew up, was very violently created.

The borders were violently created by the only two neighbours of Lebanon: Syria and Israel. And I think most folks would agree, not the easiest neighbours to have. And the other border is the sea. Which effectively means the EU, because the closest Island is Cyprus, which belongs to the EU, and therefore has a Schengen visa. And so everything from a young age in Lebanon is tiny, like people can check out the map. It's one of the smallest countries in the world, you can easily just not see it on the map. And that small part of the map, that tiny place is where I grew up, where I spent most of my life. And you can do the entire thing, like from north to south in like, I don't know, four or five hours by car, give or take. And yet, despite that, despite it being so small, you can't go anywhere else, effectively, unless you have another passport. And so growing up that was this big thing of like, it's even as important as getting a bachelor's or what have you, if not more important to get a second passport. And in our cases, we have the Argentinian one for like family reasons. And a good passport is defined by how many places can you go to? How many places can you migrate to -- so often it's a Western passport, in some cases, a Latin American passport, or in some other cases a West African passport which can be just as bad as a Lebanese passport, like a Gabonese passport, for example. So belonging because of that is complicated for me. And I think also because of that, I've always growing up try to escape in those mostly fictitious worlds, like Hogwarts, as I mentioned before, but then it's like, you know, the Shire, or when I watch certain series are like certain landscapes that I immediately feel drawn to, like, again, the Shire, and the hills, forest mountains I grew up on a mountain are the closest thing I can think of to what I feel as home. But and that's why I should say, maybe that's why I do feel a bit of a familiarity with this Indigenous worldview. But it's one that I developed despite the, or even as rejection of the form of belonging that I was told to adopt growing up, like a Lebanese Christian, that's it, no questions asked, nothing else matters. Basically, my Palestinians shouldn't be brought up, my Italianness was, well, you don't have the passport, it doesn't matter, all of that stuff. If I did have the passport, many would be oh, now your Italian, you're good, because you have one of the good passports. And so that just gave me early on this knowledge if you want that it is all pretty arbitrary. It feels that way. And in other words, like it's these are social constructs. And because of social construct, I don't take certain traditions, certain identities, national ones, especially, I don't take them at face value. Like I don't see like, you know, fireworks at the Fourth of July, or whatnot as like, oh, this is just a normal thing that people in America do because of tradition. It's like no, actually, it started at one point. And there's a reason why and you can literally study it. Like, that's one good thing about what I do cultural studies, you take culture as a social construct. And social contract doesn't mean fake, it means social construct, it means something that humans have constructed. And recognizing that means that while maybe we can construct things differently, and I see this as a very, like, logical framework, and because I'm autistic, I'm, I think I'm incapable of lying to myself about it. If I take that as my baseline, then it's actually well hose other things that are supposed to be as certain of themselves, like, you know, being French, or being American or being whatever, really any nationality. And I'm talking about nation states, specifically, not nations in like the Indigenous way, for example, or being Jewish or being Kurdish, which again, has had a different history. I take them with a grain of salt. And so I no longer aspire to become one, to become French, or to become American or to become whatever. For me, it's more of a, you might say, a practical consideration, like which one of those identities will allow me to be less harassed by border police. Like, it's really that straightforward. And it's only that straightforward if you grew up in a context where borders were heavily enforced, like literally in Lebanon, if you go south, towards what's now Israel, you will quite literally be shot. Like it's literally, it's illegal to do so basically. And they can because they are in a state of war, they can say, well, you know, a hostile foreigner, a hostile element tried to cross the border, and basically shoot me to death. And that's it. That's, that's the end of it. And so I'm fascinated by, the main fascinating thing about the place where I live is the lack of borders here. Now, there are borders, of course, between Switzerland and France, let's say you're Switzerland and Germany or Italy, but then, you know, more flexible. And sometimes one of the things that baffles me the most is the border opens and closes, based on the border of cops, border, like patrols have work hours. And so between 9am and 5pm, they are at that specific border. And if you pass through, maybe they stop you and ask questions. But if you go at six or 7pm, and that border is still open, why it's not the border anymore. And the fact that it can have these mixed identities mixed states essentially, is very bizarre for me, because for me borders are a very specific thing. The map of Lebanon is like, inked in my pain, because of how specific it is and how I knew exactly growing up where you can go and where you can go. Like, for example, when I had the car in Lebanon, the GPS would actually force the car to stop driving, when you get too close to one of the borders, because that means you're at risk of whatever. And so for me, it was very, like even driving, I knew more or less where you can go and where you can go. And that basically gave me a different appreciation, if you want of how much of a bad idea hard borders are, especially hard borders, borders in general, but especially the hard types And so for me, it's just that it's like, I don't think they're good for people. I don't think they're a good idea. I don't think they function the way people think they do. I don't think they keep us safe, quote unquote, actually think they keep us unsafe. And it just creates a sort of a bubble that you feel with time increasingly invested and protecting at all costs. Even if you somehow know that it's a bubble, i.e. it's not the really real quote unquote.

So I realized at one point that I was... so, growing up, most of my friends were women, and or queer. And the reason for that later on discovered like, you know, me being autistic and having complicated ways of dealing, of performing what is seen as masculinity. So that was like the earliest ones I can think of. Another one I can think of is with my dogs, I grew up, my aunt has a dog shelter in Lebanon. So I grew up with a lot of dogs. At one point, there was 11 dogs in the house. And I first realized how much of a me thing that was when I left Lebanon, I moved to the UK, and for four years, I didn't have dogs. Now, one of the two dogs that we have here in Switzerland is from the home in Lebanon. And is the only thing really that I would say, well, is home in that sense, in the sense of familiarity. The other dog is a more recent adopted one. But the other thing is with other folks in general, that have a kind of Iiminanilty component to their identity, or a peripheral one. So like, I immediately feel a sort of a familiarity, if you want with people from Hong Kong, who are activists, because their relationship with the big neighbour is a familiar one to me, not necessarily literally in the sense of Syria being the big neighbor, because it's more complicated in that case. But in the sense of like, basically America was the big neighbor growing up-- for invading Iraq reasons. And so I have this thing in common with them, and I'm able to talk about it. And I sort of feel very immediately, I feel a sense of familiarity with folks who are, not always of course, but at least it's more likely to happen with, with folks who are like queer or non binary, or autistic, or just like, not whatever the major thing, the majority is just in general. And then it, you know, different layers of that, of course, people who have complicated relationships with languages, I immediately know what they talk about, what they're talking about, like, you know, I wouldn't know. And this is something that's very specific, and I don't know how I can tell that I know. But I know when I'm reading a novel in English, that the novelist, even if like the novelist is fluent in English, and it's written in English, that the novelist has another language, in either maybe as a first language or even as a second or third language. Because there's something about it that feels different than, I don't know, reading Moby Dick. There's something I can't quite describe it, but it's almost instinctual. And so that being said, in Lebanon itself, I've rarely felt the belonging, I actually always felt a bit of an outsider, I think in retrospect, is due to the autism especially, but I don't know, just in general, more complicated conversation, maybe. But the few times I remember feeling some belonging is when usually it will be with like a few friends, and we would go somewhere, usually like camping or something like that. And the landscape, or the mountains especially would feel very familiar. And very like “this place is the mountain”, it's not the Republic of Lebanon, it's just the mountain that happens to be since the 1940s, that happens to be in the Republic of Lebanon but it's the same mountain as when that territory was the French mandate of Lebanon, or when the territory was part of the Ottoman empire, and we can go further back and that's the same damn mountain. And I am unable to forget that. I think it's an autism thing or something, I just can't get rid of that fact, basically, that it is the same mountain. And so I am able to create scenarios in my head, in which certain things that are said today are taken for granted about what belongs where and who belongs where and what not. And you just turn back the clock, like a century or even less in some cases. And suddenly, that's no longer the case. And suddenly, it's very different protagonists fighting it out based on what they perceive being their identity as well. Not a lot of Austro Hungarians these days, you know, being pissed off about their Austro Hungarian-ness. But that was the case for a long time, Ottomaness, the same for that matter. And so for me, and that's why I should say that that's why Russian Imperialism is very familiar to me. And that's why I'm able to see through a Ukrainian eye, if that's the correct way of putting it, immediately what it means like when there is a massive neighbor that basically says you don't exist, that's, that's something that's very familiar to me, for, like maybe historical reasons, or whatever. And that allows me to maybe build different bonds and whatnot. I would say that forms of belonging that are I'm gonna, I don't know, I don't even know if it's the proper term for it. But like, that are more reality based, like forms of belonging that are kinship based or land based, feel more likely to me to be more long term than other forms of identity that are way too much about just defining yourself by who you're not rather than who you are. Like, really, the only way of defining yourself as Lebanese is the fact that you're not Syrian, like that's it like there isn't the food is the same, you know, like there isn't… There isn't that much more that you can go for. You can say, oh, the dialects are different, well it kind of depends where, if you're by the border, the dialects are pretty similar, like, they just are, and there are differences between like Beirut accent and the northern accent, but they're still the same country. So that's not good, that's not a good argument in that sense. And I'm saying this because those arguments being made often. So for me, it's not like saying, Oh, well, I'm not Lebanese, because well, that exists. And I have that. And I may or may not like it, it's just a case. So for me, it's more like, well, can I think of this being something that's more aspirational? Like one can become this? Because right now, you cannot become Lebanese. You can just inherit like your dad is Lebanese, or you marry a Lebanese guy. And that's basically the only way you can become Lebanese. And it's only through the male. I don't like it. I don't like that. I don't think it's good for Lebanon, I don't think it's a good thing. I don't think it makes things nicer. And so the first time I was able to escape that, was moving to London, where there is a sense of a resent-based identity. Of course, you have the neighbourhood's you have no I mean, it's Londoner, but it's also like, I'm just someone who's been here for a long time. And now I'm kind of a Londoner. And that's it. That's it, like no one, very few people to really give a shit about where you come from in London, specifically, not in the UK. And that's something that I find appealing. And that's something that it's why I'm less harsh, if you want on North Americans, as as some other folks might be because there is, at the very least there is this idea that you can become something, and with all of the flaws that that comes with. And I'm not saying it's good or bad, I'm just saying compared to what I'm used to, it feels a bit better. I'm not saying it's the best that it can be, I'm not saying, you know, Canadianness has to be the end all be all, you know, it's more like, it feels a bit more flexible. It's something that my sister moved to Canada and eventually will become Canadian. And that kind of thing. There is a bit of the fact that these exist, that you can become something and I am we're limited only limiting ourselves to like National categories for simplicity's sake, for me makes it more interesting, as a category with more potential, let's say, for liberation, for liberation politics, then French, then, you know, identities are very rigid for the most part, like you have to basically tick five boxes. And if you don't tick those five boxes, you cannot become that, you will never be complete, basically. I don't think those are good, though. I don't think those are good frameworks for human beings. And I think the facts bear that out. But social constructs are powerful, because they're social constructs.

I like codes. I like how things are coded both good and bad. So like, Lebanese flag, Israeli flag, Syrian flag are pretty exclusive. You know, it's pretty like you're this you're not this. That's it like you can, there's no point having a Lebanese flag behind you. If you're not Lebanese, like, What are you saying with that? Not much, whereas being queer, and the pride flag, by definition isn't nation bound? Right. Like, it's not another thing. You know, flags are amazing, whatever, but it's just, it feels a bit more flexible, right, a more inclusive more, it has more of an aspirational thing going on for it. And aspirational doesn't necessarily mean that the end result is good, like, American identity is kind of aspirational. In that sense. One can become American. And because of that, I think it has a bit more flexibility than other forms of identity where you cannot really become like you cannot become Russian. I mean, legally, sure. But you can't, like you just can't, there are certain things you have to have inherited in your background. That just doesn't allow it. I am not saying that has to be the case forever, I'm just saying that's just the case now, and that's my that's been my experiences with most identities, for like Italianness Spanishness, what have you in Europe, it tends to be like your this because you're that and that's it. That's the kind of end all be all.

But the thing that I find fascinating about the queerness of it all, the pride flag, especially if I'm thinking like, just visually, I tend to think visually, is more of a like, sure most people who have the Pride flag are queer or would identify as such, but if they're not clear, and they still have the pride flag, who gives a shit? Like it doesn't it's like, maybe that just means, oh, I support LGBTQI rights. Okay, cool. That's it, you don't have to there's no national anthem that you have to perform, you know? There isn't a whatever it literally the language is not there, there is no one language. It's just that. And so for me the fact that queer culture by definition, at least historically, of course, there are ways in being queer and right wing, you know, as that exists today, conservative nationalism, homonationalism is a thing, all of that stuff. But by and large, historically, it's been a counter cultural thing, or at the very least, a non normative thing, right? By definition, I guess. And there are like these things I like when I read queer history, or queer politics, or I hear people who are queer talk about queer history, there is a sense of like, we went through this, and the we here doesn't have to be like, same nationality, like, you know, gay men who killed during the Holocaust, there is a certain kinship, for lack of a better term, with I don't know, a gay man in San Francisco, or Beirut or whatever there is, there is something there that is the same thing with you know, of course, like women supporting women, there is that there is that element to it, that almost by definition, cannot be limited to one nation, now doesn't mean that it cannot be manipulated that way that, of course, exists the whole, like, we're going to liberate your women by bombing your country kind of thing. We're sort of familiar with that. Unfortunately. Afghanistan comes to mind. But there is also a way in which it's more, it's more porous, right? It's more liminal, to go back to that term. That you're even able to use category, like one uses categories, like women and queer folks, like there is... I've heard that. And of course, there are queer folks that are women, and are women that are queer, but you still use this because what you actually mean is non white cismen, right? You mean, you mean like basically everyone else, that's not as dominant caste, like politically dominant caste. And for me, there's something more potentially interesting about that, then the dominant one, essentially, because I think the dominant one is very fragile. It tends to depend so much on things just not changing. It reminds me of Hannah Gatsby saying like the whole the sentence, "boys will be boys" is such a perfect example of the problem. Because supposedly boys will be men, supposedly, that's supposed to be how the trajectory goes by saying, "oh, well, boys will be boys", it's kind of saying: well, this is just this eternal thing that they are born with, somehow, and I don't know something in the Y chromosome or whatever, and that means they have to, like, I don't know, cars and guns. I don't know, you know, like, it's so it's so blatantly manufactured. And because I do cultural studies, I literally even know when it was manufactured in some cases. Cars, obviously, 40s 50s. You know, like, it's not a coincidence that these things happen the way they do. And for me, because of that, I tend to be wary, as I said, of being wary of fully self confident, to the point of arrogance, identities that hide more than they're willing to admit, let's put it that way. It doesn't mean that one shouldn't be that I don't know what people do with their lives, that's not on me. But it's why, for me, belonging is something that in many ways I will always wrestle with, it sort of reminds me of this, I forgot this specific story, but it's one of the stories and like, within Judaism, of like God is something to wrestle with, it is not something to just accept kind of thing. Now, of course, there are Jews who disagree with this. But that kind of idea is something that I find quite appealing, because at least I think there's the humility... There's inherent humility of accepting, not just that we can't know certain things, but that we also don't know what we don't know. Like, there are certain things that are, you know, the whole thing like, you know, certain things that you know, all of that, and also the things that we don't know that we don't know. And if you don't recognize that, I don't think it's conducive to a good civilization or whatever term you want to use. I think it causes way more problems than it should. I think it's way too much of a headache. And I think we can do things much simpler, and more beautiful and more creative and more just nicer to live with. And maybe not all of us have to be depressed, that kind of thing.

So I would say that I deal with this question of like, how to thrive in the midst of all of these very difficult things, patriarchy, Empire, capitalism, etc, etc. I do so with a lot of difficulty, some days are better than others. And I feel like actually, these answers, answering this way is I'm doing it on purpose. Because I'm also a bit hesitant or at least sceptical towards like one liners, if you see what I mean, like something that's very, that feels complete when it doesn't deserve to be because it's not. And so there are days where I feel very driven towards something that I know, I don't only know just intellectually, but also emotionally feel as possible. Like that's, you know, that's why I'm into solar punk, or that's why I'm into a different types of futurisms that take the future seriously. And for that same reason, kind of the other side of that coin is that that's why I'm a bit, honestly, the term is bored, I am almost like I'm just so beyond a past national historiography, as a ways of telling the past and how, oh, we are this because in 1375 someone killed someone I am like, surely things can be more interesting than that, like this feels very boring. And I feel a bit more connected, when I'm in my happy place, let's say, I feel a bit more connected to what is usually called history, even prehistory or the natural world even or, like just ways of being that are not stringent, necessarily. So that's like one one way, another way is when I feel... it's a whole, like "pessimism of the intellect and optimism of the will,'' by Gramsci. But the idea is that because yes, there are lots of reasons to be very worried about the future and the present for that matter. And, I mean, at this point, when, especially when we think about global warming, that saying that, you know, I'm 32, and let's say I live to the lucky age of 90 years or whatever, saying that the next 60 years of my life will not be difficult to at least have lots of difficulties, I don't think is likely, I don't think it's reasonable. Based on what we know, it seems that difficulty is almost a guarantee at this point. That being said, how things are dealt with changes from place to place, community to community, that's kind of the lessons of, you know, Rebecca Solnit, her work on on, we build paradise in hell, and just what we do know of what people do, for the most, in most cases, when things are tough. And despite a bunch of myths, usually media driven, that are just factually incorrect. the literature on this is pretty clear. Most people in most situations are just decent. And they're just nice. And we kind of just come together because, frankly, because it's like dumb not to, like in most cases where you need one another well you need one another. And you need to kind of grow up and just accept that. And there is there is an element of that that for me is very basic and because of that, I'm less keen now, more so than before I'm less, I have less difficulties accepting that sometimes I just somehow do something for someone else. And not necessarily expecting something in return, but sort of feeling that that is a good thing in and of itself because it kind of nudges things in a certain direction, rather than another direction. And I kind of, I have days where I'm able to remind myself that this isn't just an emotional thing not that emotional is bad. But there it is also a rational thing because ohm this is the literature on the topic or whatever. And you know, when I'm, as I said, when I'm in happy place, I remember both of those, like intellectually and emotionally. Other times, I've kind of grown to appreciate, you know, David Graeber used to say that anarchism is a verb and not a noun. And like, using that same logic if you want, I see like solar punk, I see even hope, the idea of hope most things most isms, as like verbs. Like these are some this is something to do, and it's a framework to use in order to understand a certain situation, just as in a certain situation, having a physics background might be more useful than having a chemistry background, and other situations the other way around. These I find them as tools. I see them as like useful frameworks to that allow me to understand certain things and not others. Like there are certain things where me having kind of like an anarchism background doesn't give me much like in the moment is like, it's, I need to think about something else now; it will not teach me how to plant something like it just doesn't. And so I just accepted that. This is how it is and it's very messy. And it's very difficult to accept. But I think the reason why it's a bit easier for me to accept then what I've learned that others have more difficulties with this is because liminality is kind of this inherent state in which I exist, and I've always existed, and very similar to queerness. I mean, it is, it's a queer thing, you might say, it's a queer way of being anyway, queer in the more broadened sense. Because of that, it allows me to navigate things, certain things, anyway, with more possibility then would be the case otherwise. And this is how I think thriving, like it's a whole, like building the new in the shadow of the old, you recognize the old, the good, and the bad, you recognize that in many cases, it's a shell as in that it's not there really anymore, it's like parts of it that is there. And you build the new in it. Not always, but in those cases, because it's easier than building things from scratch. And I guess there's very, very logical, practical dimension to this, that is much more aligned with, like climate science, and much more aligned with just things that we know we need to do as a species in order for things not to be worse, like, you know, I mean, very basic about this. But that's how that's how basic things are at times. And it's kind of mind boggling, if we kind of take a step back and think about it, why, despite this, we're not on a good path in terms of like our civilization or species or whatever. There's something wrong with that, given that we live in a finite world with the fact that our worldviews or the normative ones depend on the word not being finite. And so factually, this cannot work. And so something has to give. And for me, I prefer the bad thing to give rather than some of the good things to give. And that's kind of the, again, when I'm in my happy place, that's kind of what drives me. When I'm in my sad place, I don't know, I watch Star Trek or something. I try and escape I try and take it easy. I try and what not, because those exists as well. And I can't always control them of course.

I do you think these are like different threads that are connected in one way or another? And it's actually very, it's kind of interesting and even exciting that there is that like that work to do. I do think we as humans like to have something to do, even if that to do isn't work in the sense of like labour or wage labour, whatever, but like more of a purpose. We like to have purpose. It's something that we do. Some people find it in certain things and other people find in other things. And I think this is one of the things that I think it's exciting to be part of something that gets created, like let's say solar punk becoming more mainstream or whatever. And just me knowing at some point, I was part of that, that was cool. Now I can do something else, you know, that kind of thing. And it gives me an easier way of again, not to repeat myself too much. But it's like it's a better tool, I think, than just trying to see which bit of my Lebaneseness fits with my Italianness this fits with my Argentiness this feature with my Palestinianess, Arabness, Frenchness, whatever, and how can I best play that game? Because ultimately, it is one. And like, I don't know, I'm 32. And if I get there by the time of 50, or 60, and I've reached peak Frenchness at age 60, like then what? You know, like, what does that do? Right? Like, it's not, it's maybe like, for me, it's satisfying, cool, but it doesn't, I don't feel like it's generative enough. And so I... because I used to have this identity crisis again, like, you know, all of these isms, and being Arab, but not fully Arab like too.. is the whole thing like: Oh too Arab for the French too French for the Arabs kind of thing, and not liking either of those two categories growing up anyway, I gave up at some point, I realized that part of the problem is actually the question I was asking myself, How do I fit in? And at some point is like, maybe don't like just maybe, maybe have like, oh, some practical skills are good for like functioning purposes. But you recognize that they are just like practical skills in the same way like like you're learning a skill. You're learning to become, you know, you're learning, welding or whatever, well I'm learning how to perform Frenchness or Lebaneseness or whatnot in very limited context to the extent I am even comfortable doing so, just for like, purely practicality purposes, because in that specific moment, it makes things, it makes it allows me to connect with someone, for example, if they know that I have this thing in common or if they know that I speak this language or if they know that, whatever. And then hopefully that leads to something more interesting later on that is not just that. Because I just cannot stress how much I find this boring. I just, even right now I'm bored. Like I find myself like, every time I think of these big categories that are not that big, like Frenchness, or whatnot. I just I picture Star Trek, that helps me helps me a bit, when I think of like, oh, this word that in the 23rd century, or whatever, 22nd century... And like, who cares about this you know, being Lebanese? I don't know, maybe, because by then, but clearly not. I mean, my grandmother is older than Lebanon, as she is. And so what does that mean? You know, like, there is all of that, I've accepted a certain course of history, if you want, that, just as now the Soviet Union collapsing is a fact. But it wasn't up until like, the day before. For me, like, the US will not exist forever, France will not exist forever, none of those would exist forever, because nothing does, period, like just nothing does. And accepting that makes things a bit more, I don't have to turn this easy, but you know, it makes things-- I'm less anxious by change. It's a whole god is change kind of thing by Octavia Butler, like the only constant is change. And we know this as... mean, it's intuitively you can literally reason and get to that conclusion. Because it just is. And so I tell myself, maybe, you know, maybe I'm in denial about, you know, my fear of death or whatever. But I feel like I'm a bit more at ease with that, m position in all of this, because it makes it also makes things a bit less scary, to be honest. And I think we're scared most of the time. So I might as well try not to be. Ursula Le Guin, the dispossessed is on that like, even if you have this utopic whatever society people are still people and shit is still gonna, like capitalism is not the only way that we're going to oppress one another or whatever, it just dominant one right now, patriarchy is older for that matter. Caste is older than capitalism in India, for example. And so at one point, we might get to a post capitalist society. But I don't know, patriarchy might still be around, I don't know, like, certain different things will still be around. And so and even if they aren't, if it's not that specific framework, although it's more difficult for me to imagine that if there is no forms of domination anymore, well I don't know shit will still happen, like something will happen, something somewhere will happen, and it's going to require something to be done. I don't know, the way we do things may not work for like five minutes, or whatever, you know, like it's, I don't, we don't know. But it's nice to recognize what you don't know, instead of pretending that you know things that you don't know if you see what I mean. And that's why I find this kind of framework more comforting as well, to be honest. The impermanence of things being the only permanent thing is an interesting mantra to use that Buddhist term to kind of repeat at times when you when I forget in the moment, and it's doesn't mean don't get attached, it doesn't mean don't care about things, which is kind of the cliche, but it just means accept the things are not permanent, isn't it that simple, is it's difficult to accept it is I feel that difficulty as well obviously.

I hope we can get to a point "we as the human species" can get to a point where there is more of an acceptance of the impermanence of things, because we don't really have much of a choice on the matter. It just is. That's why you know, maybe as a parentheses, I don't like the whole save the planet thing, like the planet will be fine. The planet is fine. Like there's no, it's, I don't know, fungi will be fine. Like it's not we're not saving fungi, right? Like, it's, it's more like, we want things to be nice, like a pretty pretty landscape and diversity and humans thriving and whatnot. There is I hope we can get to a point where we're able to accept the queerness of it all. Like the world is queer, in the sense that it's also weird in the original sense that the one that was obviously derogatory, but you know, it was claimed, and I think it's good to claim it, of course, and the other ways queer is mentioned, but also like, yeah, it's also weird, weird is fine, weird is okay, there's something interesting about weird, there is a reason why it's weird and not something else being weird in all of that stuff. And I would be very interested in seeing identities that are constructed and kind of knowingly so, this is not necessarily new, of course, like, you know, I don't know a group of people settling somewhere at some point they may have some kind of identity I didn't have before even before so that settler colonialism, or, you know, football fans or whatever, you know, those are also construct and it's a bit more recognized as so and I think that makes it more interesting. That's why I don'discourage these other forms of identities. Like if you're a football fan, or if you're whatever, cool, you know, I don't care, as long as you use it for good. And I don't think it's less serious than being French. I don't think it's less intellectual. If anything, it's probably more meaningful for football fans who are French, for example, there's something more concrete about that than the very vague, you know, the whole imagined community thing. Because as a football fan, you know, it's an imagined community. And that's fine. That's fine. Like, obviously, it's an... I was not born a Liverpool fan or whatever, you know, like, you know, it's, you know, that, you know, it's an imagined community. And there's something good about that. Now, obviously, it can go down to like, you know, hostile tribalism and all of that stuff, which we do see, of course, because every good thing can be ruined. That's not like, there's nothing inherently permanent about that, either. But it's, it's something that I'm beginning to accept more and more, like, you know, what if autism was a nation? What if queerness was a nation? What would that even mean? Like? Is it even better? You know, like, is it? What are the limitations? Like, what does that mean if autism was an eight nation, you need borders? You know, stuff like that? What does that even mean? Like to be neurodiverse what is it even mean? Because, for me, neurodiversity often is defined in relationship with being neurotypical. And it's a similar like, for most of the time, being a woman was defined as just not being a man, and all of that stuff, it's not sustainable, to use, like the language of sustainability, which is popular these days, it's just not. And at some point, again, something would have to give, and I think, I want to be there, I want to be more prepared for those moments where like, the nation state that is known as Russia doesn't exist anymore, because it won't -- nothing does, like it just doesn't. And maybe it happens in my lifetime. Maybe it happens in another person's lifetime. But that's just the case. And just as it's kind of weird for me, that was bizarre for me that there was a time where people took the Soviet Union as beeing taken for granted. Because I was born, the year it collapsed. At one point, there's going to be a generation born today America collapsed. Like, that's just a fact. And then there's gonna be something after that good or bad. I don't know, obviously, there's gonna be something after that. And I accept that reality that possibility of the future as being factually based even though it hasn't happened yet, and may not happen in those specific ways. But that's just it. That's the kind of the flip side of accepting that things went in a certain way historically, we know they did, because they did. But we also know that they didn't have to. We also know that like Hitler could have been a better painter kind of shit, you know, that kind of what ifs. And clearly the course of history would have been different, doesn't mean that there wouldn't have been a holocaust. Maybe there still would have because of anti semitism and all of that shit in Germany, but maybe not, maybe something else would have happened. And we just do not know and we cannot know and because of that, that is the exact same message is the exact same lesson about the present and future like just because of that, and the future is often repeated because we take it for granted because we think it's a repetition of the past.

This episode featured Joey Ayoub with music by ZF Bergman. On Belonging is curated by carla joy bergman and Jamie-Leigh Gonzales with tech support by Chris Bergman. The show's awesome theme music is by awareness on belonging is a Joyful Threads and Grounded Futures creation. Please visit groundedfutures.com for show notes, transcripts, and to read more about On Belonging,

Till next time, keep walking. Keep listening.

These transcripts were generated in Otter, and lightly edited by our team.