The Fallacy of non-existence

The issue of  my existence is one that is on my mind a lot more times than others. I do exist, and I know this. However, I find that sometimes I am afraid I do not exist, or have ceased to exist, or that something creeping up on my unsuspecting self will finally cause me to “unexist”.  I feel its presence in my mind is energized by these irrational fears. They can’t be realized. Nonetheless I continue to fear that if they were to be realized, my existence would be jeopardized.

Why fear then? What could I do to thwart these threats were they to actually exist? What in my consciousness did I do to exist? What in my power can I do to continue my existence or erase it? It is clear; one day I will die, and even when I die I will have been. I will have existed. That has nothing to do with me. Even if I drank a bottle full of poison, I did not create death. In any case, all I do is die, not cease to exist. To me, “my” existence lies completely outside the lines of my own will and the exertion of it to make myself exist more, or to exist less. Existence and non- existence lie out of human control. Existence is therefore irrefutable and conclusive, and that’s that. I do exist and I know this. But perhaps, I forget it?

The issue of general human existence too reels in my mind. I figure it’s one of the perks of being in a different country blessed with such diversity and all. I also as well, find myself at an age where I am deliberately thinking about identity and purpose, that are expressions of existence. I think it’s more about how keen I am to acknowledge my own expressions of existence, that in turn cause the expressions of everyone else to be sharpened to my attention. I see all the different colors so vividly.  I seek to find out how I blend within all that color and diversity. I am scared to be excluded from it, yet there are some who would have me excluded- on the outside, feeling “non-existent”, afraid and colorless. But I exist. Vibrantly. We already established that I know that. That remains irrefutable and conclusive and that should be that. It really should.

However, I somehow continue to grapple with this extrinc idea that dwells somewhere so outside of me, that even thinking and reading and speaking, will not let me into its dwelling place. I remain an observer on the outside, making do with all I can decipher from what I see, that results into what I know.

This includes the fact that what I indeed see isn’t the whole picture, and therefore what I know is only a fraction of what I could know. Nevertheless, I can still create a picture sufficient enough for me to satisfactorily be- or to satisfactorily exist if you must. It’s like a real life mathematical problem, fitted in a philosophical dimension – let us assume that everything outside the lines of what we know is x.

The satisfaction is that we already know what x and everything it is representative of equates to when merged with all that we know. It all equates to- life, or in this philosophical case, existence.

In any case, while we know the answer to the epistemological question of our existence,  there are aspects of fascination about how that answer is arrived at that make it even more irrefutable and conclusive. I should be already convinced about my own existence, but I am even more persuaded by this. I didn’t think that possible, let alone necessary.

My personal favorite is the axiom that existence in the very first place, exists. Existence exists. The very fact that I am asking myself that question has more to say about my existence than my non-existence, that eventually leads me to the already stated conclusion that I do exist. Jeff Landauer and Joseph Rowlands say that. ” At the core of every thought is the observation that “I am aware of something”. The very fact that one is aware of something is the proof that something in some form exists — that existence exists — existence being all that which exists.”  In this way, my non-existence is not just an error, not just more of a misconstruction, or a delusion but especially a fallacy. I exist and that is not only irrefutable, but conclusive as well. My non- existence is such a fallacy.

I exist as something; something that’s not just a person, but exists with details of the most intricate definition of specificity, just like you, and just like the other guy. We are a species that with our minds and abilities of observation and deduction, find the differences between ourselves, boiled down to such rare and novel individuality, so much that categories meant to enunciate difference, and that are established for the purpose of differentiation amongst us, ironically are most times created based on what is similar amongst those people within each category; and this is because of one major reason -Anything and everything we have in common, is how different we are from one another. In the end, and inevitably so, our differences are the thing we have in common. Everything begins there and so I will too.

I exist the way I am- female, black, African, Ugandan, first born child, 23, completely into Switchfoot and recently obsessed with salsa and tortilla chips etc etc. A billion other people probably exist w.a.y differently when it comes these fundamentals, veering from sex/gender, race/biological taxon and ethnicity to things like nationality and your favorite band, or recent indulgence that is a meal. I cannot emphasize it anymore to you or myself how obviously different we are. This difference begins from our existence, and how indisputable that is. Therefore, it as well boils down into the implications of our existence- the way we exist, and what that means.

It means we are all people and that we are the people/species we are because we are different. Difference is so in the middle of all of this, so much so that our existence as a species is a celebration of this diversity that serves more to unite us by that diversity, than divide us.

Yet, here we are in our time having to remind each other of the most obvious; that even different people are people. That we exist. How do we suddenly forget how irrefutable and conclusive that is?!

That the same flow of incontrovertible facts that make you undeniably you, make the other person conclusively who they are as well. Where then and how, do our powers of observation and deduction fail us? How then is difference condemned yet is is something so definitive in us all? We are different; and that’s what makes us the people we are- existent!

Even black people are people. Even the Rohingya are people. Even white people are people. Even Africans are people. Even the President of America is a person. Yes, even Trump is a person. Even immigrants are people. Even refugees are people. Even a woman is a person. Even brown people are people. Even a man is one. Even queer people are people. Even straight people are people. Even prisoners are people. Even free men are people. Even children are people. Grown ups are people too. Even indigenous tribes are people. Hey, all I am doing right now is stating very seemingly and should be obvious facts; as obvious as your own and their own existences- that people are people, and exist as such.

The implications and expression of my existence are as irrefutable and irrevocable as the fact of my existence.

Yet, here we are in our time trying too hard to disprove this fact; to refute it; to revoke it. We are trying to “unexist” people as if we could. We are driving it in their heads so deeply; how I know this, is that  I have to remind myself that who I am is a natural implication of my existence,  and that, that is okay. I have to remind myself I exist. The fact that I am different should not scare me. It should embolden me to be what I am for myself and for others. Against the odds of history,  current affairs and sociological norms. I have to remind myself that the idea of my non-existence is fallacy.

Maybe you need to start there too.

I don’t even know what else to say and how to say it other than it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that so many times, even if we know we do exist, we give into the loud sounding gongs that say we do not.

We start to believe that because what is said overwhelmingly comes from so many directions, it must be true. We start to believe that we must be as others are, to be. We despair when that does not work, because we forget that the implication of our existences is that we are who we are. We start to believe our countries are shit-holes and forget whence that comparison and diction stem- forgetfulness.

All men were once where some other man is now. We start to believe that because our countries are in so much civil strife that we have to leave, we will never find a home. We start to believe that because we are women, we will never achieve the way men are given opportunity to. We start to believe that because we are young, we have nothing to deliver into this world. We start to believe what can never be true.

You exist. I exist; and we exist the way we do. Our non- existence is a fallacy.

I’m tired of having to remind myself that I do exist and as I am,  and I am as well ashamed of myself and my failed resilience, and of others and their failed resilience. Yet I understand.

Martin Luther King Jr. said that, “Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable… Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals.”

Our existence; every breath, every action, every thought, every word is a chance for us to speak the life and joy and fulfillment in the existence of others and ourselves,  its implications, the resulting responsibility and obligations; and most of all a celebration of all this that meshes us into the type of species that we are; not because we are all the same, but because we are all different.

The point of freedom is to be free, and the place of freedom is in the heart.

Free yourself to be what you are- existent.

Destroy that fallacy, once and for all.

This is the start. This is your heart. This is the day you were  born. This is your life. These are your lungs. This is the day you were born.

You were born.

You do exist.

You really do.