In 2017 I needed reasons to stay alive. My family and friends wrapped their arms around me but they couldn’t always be there. But I had the gentle pace of baseball, the at-bat tactics to focus my mind.
Barely a month after I was sexually assaulted, I stood in the ice hockey rink at a small prep school. The holiday tournaments were taking place and I’d foolishly agreed to go. It was too soon for me to be there, that much I knew.
Sport is emblematic of what goes on in society as a whole. In this issue of PEN Transmissions, we’ve looked at it as a method of inclusion – and exclusion. As a method of belonging as well as of extreme alienation.
Money, power and politics are inherent to sporting events, yet the veil of economic progress, entertainment and sporting frenzy only serves to cover up a far darker reality: in Bahrain, prisons are filled with those who dare voice their opinions.
Mum and I were very different. We shared a body at one time (though it would be more accurate to say I invaded her), but she didn’t think we had much in common. From what she saw, I was slow and uncoordinated.