Chester Bennington’s death is more than a headline for me

When I learned about the passing of Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington on Thursday, while I was sitting in a coffee shop, an influx of thoughts invaded my mind.

My mind drifted back 12 years to my high school in Tehran.

Our earlier story: A rock band from California helped me get through tough teenage years in Iran

I remembered exchanging bootlegged American music CDs with Ali, my classmate. I remembered him telling me about his new discovery: Linkin Park. I remembered him placing a Linkin Park CD in between the pages of his math book and handing it to me in class, pretending he was lending me his notes.

I remembered the CD falling from the book and onto the floor. I remembered the rest of the class witnessing the scene and one student reporting the incident to the school principal. I remembered the principal walking into class with an ominous expression on his face, ordering me to empty my backpack. I remembered him smashing the CD into pieces in front of the whole class, slapping me in the face.

I remembered him telling me I should be ashamed of myself. I remembered Linkin Park’s song “Numb”: "Tired of being what you want me to be/feeling so faithless, lost under the surface." 

And then, I cried. I wept. I was inconsolable. I didn’t care that I was in a public place with everyone around me watching. What did they know about my life, anyway? I’d been holding back my tears since the day my school principal broke that CD into shards. I’d been holding back my tears since the moment he asked me to write and sign a note in his office room, confessing to my “wrongdoing” and promising I would never again exchange Western music CDs at school.

I’d been holding back my tears for the last decade, wishing every year that Linkin Park wouldn't split up, so that I could see them live in the United States. I was only a week away from getting that experience in Mansfield, Massachusetts, when Chester committed suicide.

I was only a week away from realizing a dream I’d been nurturing for 12 years. I was only a week away from bro-hugging Chester and the rest of the band, telling them my Linkin Park stories. I was only a week away.

Having struggled with clinical depression all my life, I cannot blame Chester for his decision to take his own life. I attempted suicide at age 16. Remembering it now still leaves me shaken and shattered. I must admit I have not felt wholesome before and since.

Depression can take one to the abyss of darkness in a way that can’t be verbalized. You lose your confidence in everything and everyone around you, and with that, you lose your confidence in yourself. For me, Chester’s death was the demise of hope, but only momentarily.

I felt stupid about my unstinting efforts to see the band. But today, I’ve been thinking about what Chester would’ve thought had he seen me in person. I’m sure it would have made him proud, or at least somewhat happy, to see a fan traveling from a different corner of the world to see him and the band. Today, I’ve been imagining the delight in his eyes, his sonorous voice and his rippling laughter.

One of the beauties of art is that it gives us an abundance of possibilities without expecting anything in return. It doesn’t attempt to define or confine; it rather leaves the gates of interpretation wide open. There’s room for everyone.

We are all free to have our own take. No one forces us to be who and what we are not. One of my American friends on Facebook was telling me about having seen Linkin Park live 10 times, which made me terribly jealous. But at the same time, I’m sure he will never come to understand Linkin Park’s music the way I have. In fact, I’ve noticed most of my American friends referring to Linkin Park’s music as “cool” — a word that, in my book, doesn’t do justice to the band’s artistic statement.

For us in Iran, Linkin Park’s music and lyrics were synonymous with defiance, resistance and endurance. Chester’s voice was the mighty echo of our wrath, frustration and disappointment with the shackles of authority. It was a voice of authentic anger. It was a voice to reanimate us when we were left "Numb." It was a voice that came deep "From the Inside." It was a voice of "Roads Untraveled"; a voice of the "Victimized"; a voice against "Lies Greed Misery." "In the End," Chester mattered.

He mattered greatly. 

If you have considered suicide, or know someone who has considered it, there are resources available to help. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available 24 hours a day by phone — 1-800-273-8255 — or online.