I write this in English because the collapse of our shared morality is not a local tragedy; it is a human one. I am calling for a spotlight, not merely on the hypocrisy that surrounds me, but on something far more frgile: the survival of our humanity in an age of organized hate.
For three years, I have lived under the shadow of a relentless execution of character. I have been the target of smear campaigns so virulent, so calculated, and so devoid of mercy that they seem to have no floor, no end, and no conscience. Friends, moved by fear for my well-being, have whispered to me to be cautious, to retreat, or to offer an “olive branch” to those who seek only to set the tree on fire. Believe me, I have tried. I have reached out until my hands were bruised, only to find that some hearts are currently unreachable.
But I am doing something else now.
I am keeping a record—not for the courts of men, but for the sanctuary of my own conscience. I am holding every word, every toxic profiling, and every betrayal in the light of my own memory. I do this not for the sake of vengeance, but for the ultimate test of my own soul.
I am a witness to this darkness so that one day, when the dust of this era has finally settled, I can look every friend and every foe, every relative and every stranger in the eye and say: I remember what was done, and yet, I refuse to be defined by your hatred. I forgive you.
My politics are not on trial here. My humanity is. We are living through a Great Betrayal—a moment where the sacred bond between fellow beings has snapped. I am reeling from the weight of it, but I refuse to let my heart turn to stone to match the stones being thrown at me. The question I leave for you is the same one I wake to every morning: In the face of such ferocity, are we still capable of keeping our conscience intact? Or will we let the cruelty of others become the architect of our own ruin?
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