I'm having a mental breakdown.
I have just found out that one of my favourite Ukrainian comedians was killed by russians.
And in the very same breath — five or so fandom people, my friends included, reposting and promoting a russian artist on Instagram.
Ukrainian artists die every day. It's not really a joke, it is true. Ukrainian lives are cut short every single day just because they're Ukrainian.
And for all I know, one day I might be amongst them. It's a scary thought, one that I usually don't voice and chase away from myself as much as I can. But it's true. One day I, a Ukrainian artist, as mid and inexperienced as I may be, with all my dreams and hopes and ambitions, might cease to exist for the sole reason of me being Ukrainian. Some of us already have.
And the world will move on. No, not just move on — it will continue promoting russian narratives, russian artists, it will watch and praise russian sports, movies and content about russia and russians.
Because it's not political, is it? Because people would rather find a thousand reasons to blame Ukrainians than one reason to boycott russian content. The reason being the genocide of Ukrainians and the collective responsibility over said genocide.
I can't help but think, if I died from a russian attack during the Easter vacation, all those people who smile at me, reblog my art, respond to my comments, would they stop to think that the russians are at fault? From the smallest artist to the politician to the member of the russian army — the people who have built and supported the society where genocide has become an acceptable thing?
I think it would, like many Ukrainian deaths, exist in a hypothetical vacuum.
Oh, how sad. What a tragedy.
Anyways, have you seen this amazing drawing of my blorbo made by this wonderful russian artist?
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amandla
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