the man’s wife tells the girls that they need to apologize to her husband before he hits them. this is where i realize that there are two kinds of people. those who accept their assigned roles and those that are instead lions, brazen in their defiance. they aim for the jugular with haste and precision, the heat searing under the skin of rebellion so tempting, a vein begging to be wrenched open. they know the risks, that so easy their manes can be scalped and crowned onto the head of a more valuable gender. if only for a moment the power held above them could be slaughtered and bled out between cobblestones. if only for a moment they could feel human too. they take the risk because nothing true can be done without some flesh left in the wake.
but what is to be said about the others, those soft lambs, their coats matted, all thoughts instantly choked back and swallowed tight in fear of the inevitable fists that would push them back in? i am still haunted by the last words before the video ends. the iranian girls are screaming out to the police, unheard, not for the first time or for the last time in increasing desperation: why was i born in this country? why aren’t you doing anything? why aren’t you doing anything? why aren’t you doing anything?
