#50yearsofqueen

What is important is to make conscious decisions about when you draw attention to his ethnicity.

You might want to do this is when you introduce him as a new character or when you want to emphasize his ethnicity, for example when he is experiencing racism or when you pay attention to his facial features.

When his ethnicity isn’t part of the story it is not necessary to keep referring to Freddie as ‘The Asian/Indian Man’. This isn’t a hard rule, but a guideline. Writers don’t usually refer to Brian/Roger/John as ‘The White Man, English Man, European Man’ without a context where it makes sense to pay attention to their ethnicity or skin colour. Make conscious decisions for when you want to draw attention to Freddie’s ethnicity.

“Exotic” although used in Bohemian Rhapsody, is not an appropriate term to describe Asian peoples or cultures. It is also not appropriate for other poc.

Most important advice is: Don’t erase Freddie’s ethnicity.

This can be a tricky one for people, and from experience I can tell that people are truly trying, but often make mistakes.

Freddie is not African. Yes he was born in Zanzibar, which is now part of Tanzania. But Freddie’s ethnicity is not an African ethnicity. I have seen people refer to him as African. I understand where the idea comes from, but he is not African.

His family is Indian Parsi and their religion is Zoroastrianism. What does it mean to be Indian Parsi? Read down below.

Indian Parsis:

- “Parsis or Parsees, are an ethnoreligious group who migrated to the Indian subcontinent from Persia during the Muslim conquest of Persia of 633–654 CE” x

- Persia (now Iran) had Zoroastrianism as the state religion for many centuries in the ancient empire, it is in fact the oldest religions to still be practiced and laid the groundwork for the largest practiced religions today. There are wonderful YouTube videos and articles online about the early Persian empire, which was incredibly important and became a model for other empires. But when the muslim conquest of Persia began, many Zoroastrians migrated to India over several centuries to escape persecution.

- “Over the centuries since the first Zoroastrians arrived in India, the Parsis have integrated themselves into Indian society while simultaneously maintaining or developing their own distinct customs and traditions and thus ethnic identity” x

- The Parsis who migrated, naturally took their culture and religion with them.

The Indian Parsi community has its own distinct culture which includes its own distinct religion, but have been a community in India for many centuries and are not only influenced by Indian culture, but are a part of Indian society too.

Down below is a wonderful journal article about the Indian Parsi identity. (Click on the image for better quality to read)

- Parsi Identity by Rashna Writer in Iran Vol. 27 (1989), pp. 129-131 (3 pages)

Therefore, try not to overemphasize Freddie’s “Persian side” and neglect that he is also Indian. This happens often in fanfiction. As is explained above, Indian Parsis aren’t simply migrated Persians. Their history is much more complicated.

Further advice and resources:

- If you are white and want to write about racism, first ask yourself why you want to do this, question your own intentions first. This might sound vague, but the source in the next point explains why.

- If you are white and want to write about racism and go in-depth about other ethnicities, you should consume media made by people of colour. Read a book, articles, blogs, watch YouTube videos, or a podcast directly by people of colour. Without consuming the work by poc you cannot accurately represent racism. This source talks about the problems that arise when white people write poc characters without engaging with the work of poc. It uses JK Rowling as a problematic case study.

- An important aspect of Freddie’s background, is that he was an immigrant. This is an oral history source that talks about the experiences of Southeast Asian immigrants who came to the UK.

- This wonderful tumblr talks about everything representation, written by poc and of the specific ethnicities and religions. They do not have an Indian Parsi or Zoroastrian resource, but they do have Indian representation and general advice on representation and writing of poc characters.

Most importantly: Don’t take our word for it!

Use this as an impulse to do your own research if you want to write about racism and the experiences of Freddie as a poc. Don’t assume that you already know enough about racism without having experienced it. Don’t assume that another white author knows either.

Instead, research the works and histories made by people of color if you want to represent racism and experiences surrounding Freddie’s ethnicity more accurately.

🚨🚨🚨

 His name was John Deacon and he was nineteen. He was a quiet and rather shy man, but could be as loud as the others when it came to making himself heard. He had green eyes, sometimes verging on grey, and it gave him a very mysterious look. When he was at work, the youngest of them all would usually wear a black striped suit. His jacket was on the chair behind him, but his waistcoat was neatly buttoned and his dark blue shirt perfectly ironed. His hair was long, but he tied it in a low ponytail.

 “Of course I am. Come on Brian, you tell him. You’re the one behind the bar.”, Roger tried to call the barman for help.

 Brian May was slightly older than Roger, but he was also much taller. He had long fingers, allowing him to be very skilled when it came to serving the clientele drinks. He had dark curly hair and had given up on the idea to try and comb it. He was wearing light grey Oxford bag pants, which gave a curious impression given the length of his legs. Behind the bar, he usually had a white shirt with rolled up sleeves and a black tie.

 “There is no way you’re making me join this argument.”

 “What argument?”, a man said as he entered the room.

 The man who had spoken was the owner and his name was Jim Beach. But in the underworld, everyone knew him as ‘Miami’.

 It had taken Jim several months to settle this clandestine business. Looking for the right place, for the right people to provide him what he needed to run this secret enterprise, all of this had been very hard work. But what Miami was the most proud of was his team, his employees. When he was thinking about it, Jim couldn’t consider the four men as the members of his staff. They were now close friends, he was aware he could put his life in their hands. They were almost a family.

 Jim was wearing a light blue suit, with large trousers, an unbuttoned vest and a matching tie above his shirt. He also often had a hat, completing his whole gangster look, when he was working.

 “Come on, Miami. Tell John to be reasonable. He can’t have a drink, can he? He isn’t of  legal age….”, Roger insisted.

 “Roger. Look around you and tell me what’s legal….”, Jim replied as he sat at his table to start working on his large accounting book.

 The blonde opened his mouth to reply but he just couldn’t refute Miami’s argument.

 “John, I don’t care about your age and you can have a drink if you want. But after work. We are opening soon.”, Jim stated and John nodded. “Where’s my musician?”, Miami asked, after looking up to see the little stage empty.

 “Freddie is always late, you should know that.”, Brian pointed out.

 “Could someone remind me why I hired such a capricious diva….?”, Jim wondered out loud, looking at the three men standing next to the bar.

 “Come on guys, we are waiting for you….”, a voice startled them.

 A man appeared from nowhere on stage, looking at them with a mischievous smile on his lips.

 The man was slightly younger than Jim but older than all the others. He was not the tallest and had very black hair. The shape of his  brown eyes gave him an exotic look, almost mesmerizing. He liked to stand out with light and colorful suits, but he knew his real talent was music, and more particularly singing. His name was Freddie Mercury.

 “You all know what you have to do? So, let’s do it.”, Miami said, with a crooked smile.

 They all exchanged glances and got to work. Brian was in charge of the bar, making sure to sell the prohibited alcohol to the exclusive clientele. Freddie was entertaining the guests with his harmonious voice and his perfect chords on the piano.

 John and Roger’s jobs were different. They were in charge of the security. Both carried a gun. Both hoped they’d never have to use it. Yet the two of them were aware of the risks they were taking when standing at the door or walking around the main room at Miami’s to make sure everything was going well.

 That night was not different from the other ones. Miami sat at his table, his eyes randomly going from the scribbled pages of his notebook, where he kept track of the accounts, to the guests enjoying the underground bar. At this moment, he felt like they were the kings of the city. New York City was a big town, but Jim was confident. He knew word of mouth was enough to be known, but discreet enough to make sure the bar wouldn’t be shut down,  landing the owner and his employees rotting in jail.

 Lost in his thoughts, Jim Beach slightly shook his head and came back to reality. Everything was going well. There was no reason to worry. He was sure he had even once or twice recognized a police officer who was enjoying a nice glass of Whiskey. Miami looked around the room, smiling.

 Freddie was playing and singing on stage as if he was literally possessed by the song he was performing. A singer was not really needed in this kind of clandestine bar, but Miami knew it was adding to the atmosphere the clients were looking for: escaping their routine, their restrictive lives with less and less meaning it seemed.

 Brian was smiling as well. He was perfect in his barman’s role. He was always glad to chat with the guests, listening to their confessions, his great memory allowing him to keep track of their lives. Maybe it was also what the clientele liked about this place: it was not a very big bar, but it had some kind of coziness, a  reassuring atmosphere despite the illegal side of the business. Brian took care to make  the clients feel at home, safe.

 Safety was John’s and Roger’s matter. The bar had its regular customers but the two youngest had to make sure the door was always guarded. They also took turns taking walks around the room, reminding everyone that despite their young ages, they were ready to throw out anyone who would not follow the rules.

 At the end of this very like routine night, the four men gathered around the boss’s table, just like they usually would. Together, like partners in crime, they talked about the business, but also shared a drink. The men were confident in the future. They knew what they were doing was wrong, but deep inside, it was hard to convince themselves it was. How could making people happy be considered law-breaking?

 Night after night, the men were misfits bringing the outcasts the little sparkle of joy they needed. They now belonged to a secret world and they had the feeling this world belonged to them. They had the feeling they truly were the kings and that nothing would ever stop them.

 The nights bled into each other, and Miami saw Freddie, Brian, Roger and John getting closer and closer. They hadn’t known each other for a very long time, but soon, a real bond  started to grow between them. As time went by, John and Roger didn’t need to talk to know what they had to do to get the job done properly. Sometimes, Jim noticed winks between Freddie and Brian as the singer performed on stage and the barman served drinks.

 It was a night just like any other, and Brian was cleaning the glasses to prepare the bar  for the following day. Freddie was dreamily humming and letting his hands wander on the piano. John joined him on stage, quietly listening, admiring his talent. Roger first stared at them from afar but eventually stepped towards them and started to snap his fingers to match the rhythm.

 Jim noticed Brian was smiling at the three other men gathered on stage. It seemed they were having a nice time, relaxing after yet another night of work.

 “Why don’t you join them?”, Miami proposed.

 “Hum?”, Brian replied, still lost in his thoughts. “Oh, no, Boss, I’ve got to finish this….”, he nodded, looking at the remaining dirty glasses.

 “You let me take care of that.”, Jim said as he took the dish towel from his hand. “You guys deserve to have a break.”, he smiled.

 Brian smiled back and headed towards the others, easily joining the conversation. Jim stared at them from afar, smiling. For a second, Miami thought he had seen this scene before, a sensation of déjà-vu, as if the four men were meant to be on stage together. It was a weird feeling Jim couldn’t explain, but the man dismissed it and carried on cleaning, listening to the echo of the four young men having fun on the little stage, laughing and improvising songs together.

 Kings of the night….

 Miami’s face suddenly went from a happy and genuine smile to a grimace of horror. He knew it could happen. But he hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. His head turned toward the commotion and loud footsteps at the bar’s entry door.

 Even though Roger and John had made sure all the doors were properly locked, a group of men arrived in the bar, all carrying guns. They rushed in, pushing the tables and the chairs aside, breaking some on their way.

 The two younger men in charge of the bar’s security tried to reach out for their guns, but it was too late. The little stage was surrounded and the intruders were pointing their guns at them and the four friends had no choice but to surrender. After being searched for other weapons, the men were forced to kneel before the aggressors. Miami was brought before them. He could feel his heartbeat rushing in his chest. Deep inside he knew what was going to happen.

 A man with a white suit arrived and stood before them. He slowly took out a cigar from his pocket and lit it, puffing the heavy smoke around, as if he was the master of the place.

 “So, this is Miami’s bar. Not as fancy as I pictured it….”, he stated, disdainfully looking around him.

 Jim stared at him and then at his employees, but all of them remained silent.

 “I guess you know who I am and what’s going to happen?”, the man with the cigar carried on.

 Freddie, Brian, Roger and John exchanged glances, not really sure if it was wise to speak.

 “I’m the boss here.”, Miami stated. “If you need to talk with anyone, you talk to me.”, he pointed out.

 The man in the white suit raised his hand to silence Jim. He carried on looking at the friends on stage.

 “I think I asked a question.”, he repeated.

 “Oh, that was a question….”, Roger said, raising his eyebrows.

 “You should have told us.”, Brian shrugged.

 “I’m gonna guess you’re the tooth fairy then.”, Freddie nodded.

 “And I think you’re here to bring us candies.”, John ended.

 The man with the cigar stared at them, incredulous. He wasn’t sure of the game they were playing or if they were trying to appease the very tense atmosphere.

 “I’m Lucky Luciano and my gang is gonna rule New York.”, the man introduced himself.

 Again, the men on stage exchanged glances.

 “Never heard that name.”, Roger seriously said as the others nodded at his remark.

 Lucky laughed in disdain, but tried to remain calm. After all, the men before him were young, they still could change.

 “Here is what’s going to happen. You guys are now going to work for me. If you’re doing a nice job, maybe I’m gonna spare his life.”, Lucky said, pointing at Jim.

 “They’re going to kill me anyways.”, Jim told his employees.

 John, Roger, Brian and Freddie exchanged glances, thinking quickly, considering their options. In many conversations they had, they had made up plans in case the police were coming. But a rival gang was a truly different matter.

 Freddie looked at his friends and nodded. He stood up as the intruders threatened him with their guns again.

 “We don’t belong to you, Lucky, my ass. Better die than work for a little bitch who has no sense of honor.”, Freddie proudly said.

 “Freddie….”, Jim whispered. “Don’t be a fool! Save your life!”, he carried on.

 Again, Lucky raised his hand to silence Miami.  He was about to speak but Brian stood up as well.

 “You’re no one to tell us what to do here….”, he boldly said.

 Before Luciano could say anything in response, Roger joined Brian .

 “In fact, you’d better leave before anything bad happens to you and your friends.”, the blonde man warned.

 Lucky was furious. Never before had he been spoken to with such daring. He looked at the three men standing before him and his glance fell upon John, who still kneeled.

 “Think about your friend here.” Lucky pointed at John. “I don’t think you want him to be killed because of you. He is so young. Not even daring to look at me.”, he said, trying to sound almighty.

 Brian, Freddie and Roger looked at John. The latter slowly raised his head and the men on the stage exchanged glances. John slowly got up as well, sighing. He knew what he had to do. It was going to be hard, but there was no other choice now.

 “You’re right about one thing, Mister Luciano. I’m young. But I know what I’m doing. We know what we are doing.”, he slowly said, almost in a whisper, pointing at his friend with his head.

 Lucky opened his mouth to speak, but John wasn’t going to give him any opportunity to speak before saying all he had to tell him.

 “This is our place. Not yours. You still have to learn you can’t delegate to people you don’t know, to people you can’t trust. We, here, trust each other. We’ve become a family. This is something you’ll never understand. I pity you.”, John carried on, still very calmly.

 Luciano looked at his men, wondering why the young man had made this remark.

 “My men are good. No need to question my methods.”, Lucky said, still holding his cigar.

 “When you ask your men to do something, they have to do it the right way.”, John replied, still incredibly calmly.

 He then glanced at Miami and sighed.

 “I’m sorry Miami.”, John said.

 “It’s okay, kid.”, Jim replied, feeling his heartbeat quicken.

 “I’m gonna tell you one last thing, Mister Luciano.”, John said, slowly getting closer. “Before you insult someone, put him on his knees, threaten his friends, you have to search him properly. You shouldn’t have come. You’re going to die tonight.”, the young man said.

 Lucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. How was such a young man so bold and confident? They were surrounded, they were unarmed. What was his plan?

 “We are the Kings.”, John stated, this time very loudly and proudly.

 John slowly took the grenade he always had with him and took the clip off. He smiled at Lucky Luciano, who rushed away from John, but it was too late. The young man turned to his friends to see them one last time and threw the grenade behind him.

 The explosion was massive, weakening the whole building. Between the smoke, the rubble and confusion, Luciano’s men were screaming and started to run away. There was an immense confusion, but Miami tried to get closer to his friends, despite being seriously injured.

 John was already dead. As he was the one to use the grenade, this wasn’t surprising. A bit further away on  the stage, Brian and Roger were dead as well and the sight of their inert bodies broke Jim’s heart even more. Freddie was still breathing, but it was already too late for him too.

 “Freddie….”, Jim got closer to him.

 “Sorry Miami…. We’re gonna have to clean up again….”, the singer said.

 “Freddie….”, Jim carried on, as tears were now falling on his cheeks.

 “Don’t cry, Miami. This is not the end….”, Freddie said in a whisper.

 Jim was still holding him but he felt his life slip away. John, Brian, Roger and Freddie were all dead. What had he done?

 “You son of a bitch…..”, Jim heard behind him.

 He turned to see Lucky, standing, with blood all over his white suit, holding on a table that was miraculously still upright. He pointed his gun at Jim and was heavily breathing. From what Miami could see, the grenade had not killed him, but he was on Death’s list as well.

 Jim stood there, silent. There was nothing else to hope from this life. He had lost his business, he had lost his friends, his family. He was ready to see what was after.

 “I’m facing death with no regrets.”, Jim said.

 Lucky, feeling his strength was leaving him, looked at him. He pulled the trigger and the bullet reached Jim’s chest. The man collapsed, life slowly escaping his body. A few seconds later, Luciano crumpled as well.

 All were dead. That was what Izzy Einstein and Moe Smith wrote on their investigation report. Fighting against gangs and speakeasies that started wars to always gain more territories in New York City was never easy. But unfortunately, they were now used to seeing people die like they observed it at Miami’s clandestine bar.

  1971, London.

The Marquee Club was really a small place. Nothing fancy, nothing remarkable about this place. Except maybe the chance given to new artists to find their audience. A tiny club in the middle of London, with cheap tickets and good music.

 Jim Beach was maybe too old to frequent these kinds of clubs. Or maybe the others were too young? He couldn’t tell, but it was as if he was attracted to this place. That night, he arrived a bit late and the band on stage was already performing.

A beer in one hand, Jim curiously listened to them. He already saw several bands performing in this club, some good, some less. But the four men playing before him were different. The lead singer was moving with such charisma on the tiny stage. The guitarist on his left was incredibly talented, easily dealing with his solos. The drummer at the back had so much energy it seemed his drums were on fire. And then there was the bass player. He seemed a bit shy, but the talent was there nonetheless.

 Jim looked at them, frowning. Had he seen them before? It seemed he knew them already…. It was as if he had already seen those men on an actual stage as he was staring at the scene from afar. Some kind of old memory, something that was buried in his mind and that was just waiting to be brought back into sight. They were performing as if they were the masters of the stage, true kings in the music realm.

 Jim Beach was not aware of this, but he wasn’t standing there by chance. His soul was connected to the musicians’. It took them 50 years to be reunited in the same room. They were far from New York City and the prohibition. They were in London, enjoying themselves, thanks to music.

 Another song ended and once again, Jim couldn’t help but think of how incredibly talented the artists were.  As the band bowed at the end of its performance, the manager came on stage under the applause of the audience. His little interlude allowed Jim to find out more about the band.

“-Hi sweetie, my name it’s Freddie- the man said, shaking John’s hand.

-Hello, my name it’s John, nice to meet you Freddie-John replied, smiling kindly.”

He couldn't believe it yet. He wished that it just was a nightmare. But no. It was the real life, wasn’t fantasy. He tried to escape to his reality, remembering to his friend… Happy, alive, with energy. Remembering snippets from their first meeting… because, his mind wasn’t that good to full memories.

“-How about you? -Freddie asked

-Er... I’m studying Electronic Engineering…

-OH! That’s so interesting -Freddie added, cheerful-. I studied design.

-That’s so cool indeed- John added, smiling”

“How bright is… WAS his smile… That kind smile he was afraid to show it but… to me, it was the sweetest smile EVER… Fred, despite your lack of physical energy, your spirit and your inner energy remained intact… like the last time we met.” -John thought, drinking in his favorite bar after the service. Now alone, despite he had his family, his another friends… He felt alone. A part of his soul dead that day. A piece of his heart gone with Freddie. He will not be the same.

-Another pint please -John asked the waiter.

“-You’re so good John -Freddie said, remarking the word “good”

-T-thanks -John said shyly, smiling ”

“My main reason to smile aren’t between us today… Even remembering happy moments, my wish to smile faded. It hasn't reasons to be happy now… Fucking AIDS, you quitted me my soul brother”- John thought, crying and drinking his beer. He tried to erase his feelings a bit, but these bitches were hard to forget and numb.

The owner of the bar saw to John. Concerned, he got closer to John to comfort him a bit.

-John, y’know, anything you need… -the man said, maintaining some distance.

-I need more beer -John said, watching to his almost empty pint.

-I think I’ll call a taxi, John…

John watched to him, a bit upset. That feeling grew when he listened that a queen song was sounding.

The owner watched to his personnel and, without saying a word, they changed the radio music.

“Better” -John thought.

“-We will call you if you’re in -Freddie said.

-Thanks for this opportunity anyway- John said, leaving the place”

Some minutes later of his chat with the owner, he was in the taxi, going back to home. The effects of alcohol remained and his head hurt. His soul hurt. But it doesn't exist any pill to calm that pain.

“I love you Freddie, whenever you are”, thought John.

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