Some people are allowed to break the world when it breaks them.
Others are told to fold into the pain, quietly. Respectfully.
Make tea out of the ashes. Smile through the funeral.
We’re taught to believe there are “good guys” and “bad guys.”
But no one asks: Who wrote that script?
Because one side always had a reason.
The other side? A rap sheet.
One side got documentaries.
The other side got hashtags.
Some grief gets televised.
Other grief gets silenced.
Some get rooms full of people asking, “How could this happen to them?”
Others get rooms full of people whispering, “They probably deserved it.”
But the truth?
There are no chosen grievers.
There are no chosen villains.
There is only humanity —
beautiful, messy, flawed, bleeding.
We all feel loss.
We all know rage.
We all want the chance to be seen as whole.
So here’s a truth they never taught us:
Your grief is not less because it makes people uncomfortable.
Your anger is not wrong because it doesn’t fit their script.
Your pain is not a threat — it’s proof that you were here, that you loved, that you mattered.
Tell your story.
Even if they try to rewrite it.
Salima
Just me thinking out loud over here