Ever since I was a child, Eurovision has been my happy place; I always felt that the competition is a genuine happiness, a safe place to be who you are without being judged, on the contrary, being loved no matter what country you come from, with a bit of competition inside it, that only adds this particular flavor to discover which countries are the winners and host next year's competition.
I counted the days until it started, and every time it ended, I suffered from a deep PED (post-Eurovision depression). Years passed, yet my love for this show grew tremendously and became my hobby. The amount of information about the contest I know is enormous, some friends think It's too much, but they don't understand that for me and many other gay and queer people, it's not just a TV show; it's a culture and a music genre of its own.
And yes, it's a very open and inviting gay Olympics, and sure, straight people also watch it and like it; deal with that.
This year, for the first time - my happy place became sad. My country, Israel, and its representative, Eden Golan, were discriminated against by many delegations. Our participation was a controversy of its own, and then the song dispute, and then the dress issue and the performance, but we sucked it up and did what we needed to do so that we would participate. We didn't ask for mercy after what happened on October 7th; we didn't ask for sympathy. We wanted our song and representative to be included like every other contestant, but sadly, this wasn't at all the case.
Eden was booed by the crowd, ignored by her fellow artists, and sometimes even triggered and unrespected by them. She was excluded and ignored by many Eurovision bloggers, too. She also needed many guards from local Swedish police, and if that's not enough, Mossad security guarded her and the Israeli delegation.
It's just not right. This year's contest became a show of hatred towards Israel; anger and delusion played a significant role throughout the contest.
The only thing that saved me from
total despair this year was the public vote that surprised and gave hope that we are not alone and that the silent majority still believes in us and even loves and appreciates us, our music, and our culture. That is precisely what Eurovision is all about, and why it was established back in 1956, 11 years after WW2, when Europe was broken outside and inside. The contest gave hope then, and It should continue to provide hope now. Hope that we, as a society, can overcome wars and conflicts and remind ourselves, through music, that we are all human beings. We should cherish each other's uniqueness and celebrate diversity together.
I hope that all the haters will leave Eurovision and go to politics; I want this contest, once again, to be a safe place, a music festival for everybody who appreciates the values of cultural diversity, healthy competition, and liberty to be your true self.
The writer has been an Israeli Eurovision fan for over 20 years.
