A day at the beach: "Underwater, I felt free from the politics of my existence for the first time"

Hate can be a powerful force, energizing violence, terrorizing people and reshaping the way you view yourself.

I I was 14 when I watched the Cronulla Riots unfold on TV. I don't remember the details of the day, nor the politics of the day, but I vividly remember what it was like to be a Lebanese boy in Sydney in 2005.

I remember feeling slighted and despised Sydney for this. Racism is always gendered, and as boys we were treated like monsters.

We were called "thugs" on the radio. We were watched everywhere we went. People would leave the spaces we entered or deny us entry because of our appearance. We have been mocked or viewed as threats. I felt the hatred of the city and it enraged me.

In the face of such aggression, our community largely stood in the haven of peace from western Sydney. Far from beaches, prying eyes and violence. My family rarely returned to the coast after the riots. It is natural to meet hate with fear.

The riots were a line in the sand. The objectives were explicit and clearly communicated. No one could physically deny us access to beaches, but they could make us as undesirable as possible.

It wasn't just Cronulla, but almost every beach in the Sydney's east and north. A rough boundary drawn in the heart of the city. We had been violently evicted and no sense of the injustice we faced would change that.