How do we mourn in cyberspace?
It
takes a broken down DSL connection to liberate myself from the
shackles of cyberspace, to come to terms with the fact that there is
a time beyond 'online time'.
I
feel like the serfs after they were freed in the late 1400s.
Although
there was a lot that I wanted to write about it, I kept deluding
myself that when the right moment comes I will sit and write. Of
course the right moment never came, and a tragic disconnection from
the 'real world' freed my laptop from the monopolistic practice of using it as a big giant
browser.
I
rediscovered that it can actually be used in other ways, rather than
just to go through my Facebook or obsessively check new followers on
twitter.
One
of the many bounties of cyberspace is that it allowed us to create
different ways of relatedness. Granted that those “interactions”
cannot be described as “relationship” in the conventional sense, due
the absence of a certain physical element or dimension- it somehow
remains within the realm of the phantasmagoric, but nonetheless it is
a certain way of relating to people, interacting with them, no matter
how disembodied this process is.
And
in many ways it can even create a false sense of closeness, of
intimacy, while still maintaining this 'ghostly presence' and with
all the distance in between.
In
a community like ours, suffering with horrible degree of scarcity,
'male scarcity', the incidence of such phantasmagoric relationships
is very high.
In
a very East meets West kind of moment, where borders disappear and
“humans” meet,....etc many of us only get to enjoy the semblance
of a “relationship” through these cyber-relationalities.
(A
fancy terms, for online hookup, not technically a hookup, because a
hookup would entail an actual physical encounter and that still
remains within the realm of the 'virtual').
And
in a moment when the eccentric morbid queen was looking for her daddy
(as twisted and Freudian as this sounds), she bumped into a sexy
upbeat New York version of her perfect guy. He came from an old
family (he had 'the third' somewhere in his name), lived in Chelsea
(two blocks away from the SVA! *sigh*), worked in some PR business
for decades, had a masters degree, perfect. Not a single fault. He
was smart, fun, warm, very sexy and he even came to Egypt long time
ago when the Muslims were not coconsidered a terrorist race.
A
girl could not ask for more.
And
I didn't.
We
maintained contact for a long time, exchanged very long emails,
Skyped a few times (yes cams were open and clothes were shed), took
his number, called him a few times, and even sent Christmas cards.
And
he, being so generous and sweet, told me I have to come to New York,
go to school and stay with him. And he will find ways in which I can
pay my rent, wink wink.
At
the height of the political turmoil the country was going through, he
sent me a little badge that said,'Riot like an Egyptian'.
He
was a beautiful man.
The
operator answered me, 'this number is no longer a working number'.
I
was so terrified, I felt as if I was going to pass out.
I
ran to my computer and remembered I had him on my Facebook, and when
I checked his account, I instantly realized what I feared, is
actually true.
I
googled his name and discovered, that not only was he dead, he was
murdered in a brutal hate crime.
This
is a man who spent decades of his life working for the community and
trying to raise awareness and help the cause, and he even sent little
gifts to strangers he never met before in his life and who lived an
ocean away.
I
had no idea what to feel or what to do.
What
is the standard protocol when a cyber-friend/love-interest/companion
dies?
I
was in a completely uncharted territory, I had no idea what am I
supposed to do?
Not
only do I have to deal with all kinds of losses (people actually
dying, leaving, disappearing,...etc), I had to add 'death-in-cyberspace' (I am sure there is a clever German word for that) to
the list.
Even virtual dates die on you.
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