Social media can sometimes be such an aggressive confrontational space we often take our passion to market and trade verbal blows in intellectual or all out slanging match style. But what happens when the subject touches a genuninely raw nerve that so distresses that you feel like an open wound.
This happened when Ceil the Lion, lured from the boundaries of a Zimbabwe national park, was shot, beheaded and skinned by a Detroit dentist. Cecil’s killing appeared to be receiving more of an outpouring of outrage and than the murder of Sandra Bland, #SandraBland, a black woman found dead in a cell after being arrested for a tenuous traffic charge.
Memes were posted timelines and pages lambasting those who, whether black or white seemed to have time to mourn and express more outrage for a lion over a black woman. I had posted on Cecil just the day before.Sandra a couple of posts two or three days before.
More often I ignore self-rigtheous finger wagging and “sheeple” name-calling that masquerades as humorous pokes in the ribs, but this time those memes got under my skin. They were talking about me placing my own life as a sub-creature to a Lion. I had posted regarding the death of this majestic cat as a reflex to the most confusing group of feelings coursing through my body.
2012 and 2013 floored me with death. My Grandmother passed away. 8 months later, my Grandfather passed. Along with 4 men I knew who all took their own lives. One was in their 50’s. 3 of them in their 30’s, early 40’s of which one of them told “Zena makes sure you get your happy and I need you to understand this cos I’m not gonna be around any more next year.”
Grief. And depression – my own and in the context of the suicides of men in their maturing prime. This was the most intense sense of grief I had ever felt. So intense Continue reading