The end of my childhood escapism and fictious bubble.

-

Harry Potter has been an integral part of who I am. Irrespective of all the emotions I carry in regards to the fictional series. I adherently believe that Radical feminism without Trans inclusivity is problematic and intolerant.

I am not ready to give up the feelings I had reading that book as a kid because in my naiveté and midst of unbearable childhood truma, that book gave me tremendous hope and will to live.

I will take my time to understand and comprehend this change and realise that what once helped me grow diminishes the value of my other fellow human beings. Irrespective of how I feel, one of my core beliefs were shaken by the comments of "J.K. Rowling".

With my growth, I understand that she doesn't believe the same hope that I once recieved from her books extends to so many trans kids out there that are struggling to fit in this transmisogynistic culture.

I recognise my privilege and believe that inclusivity and protection of Trans and gender non confirming folk is far more important.

It's time we step out of the fictitious bubble we comfort ourselves in and understand that things dear to us can be problematic and it might have been an essential part of our childhood but it is no longer healthy or reasonable to hold onto.

Gently my love, let go of past belief/ideas/role models/work that is harmful to us or/and others.✨

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Writer

-
Image
  Your words were a permanent impression in my mind. Even though my fingers smudge the ends of every word written with fresh ink all over me, in attempts to touch it - a fool's attempt to think that those words were as tangible as you. But yet the smudged letters were readable. Soon enough the words felt more tangible in fact it was the only tangible thing as the writer ceased to exist, leaving only shattered dust and scrap in my memory. But the words remain. Smudged and faded yet the words remain. And now I am in search of a new writer whose application would fill this empty seat and remain there to write the same poem on my mind over and over again. Written : Dec 20, 2016
Read more

Letters to my love

-
Image
Dear love, How are you, my darling? I hope you are happy and well. You ask if I'm well too Well, what can I say, The past few days have been crazy, euphoric, and more than just content, even though I was hardly sober this entire week. A rush of making good memories seems to be the agenda with my life right now. With the flow I go, loving each step I take. I walk hand in hand with laughter and joy, gripping it tightly in my palm as it dances in its own tunes. I'm not ready to let go of it just yet. This moment feels so beautiful and imperfect. A bit of tears and a lot of hugs and grins is all the medicine this lonely soul needs.Small doses is enough to mend my soul that’s been scratched all over and stamped upon. I'm not sure if this will last more than this minute. I'm not sure if I would ever be as happy as I am now. But one thing's sure this minute, This Millisecond I am happy. Right now, it's 3am and I'm sleepless and hungover, as I watch the dark sleepin
Read more

Stained cloth

-
Image
    How do you scrub the memories away and start anew?  It has left a big dark stain on a beautiful white cloth that's never been touched before. The way the cloth holds onto the stain, you'd forget it wasn't meant to be a part of it. You continue in your oblivion. You go on believing if it wasn't for the stain, the cloth wouldn't be anything but blank and empty. In a way, the stain is the cloth itself. What is the cloth without it? Like a dried bloodstain that only gets darker with time, it clings and deepens onto every fiber. Years go by, some days you completely ignore the stain, while other times, you can't help but focus on its darkness. It pulls you in again and again. And so one day, you decide to be done with it once and for all, you rub the cloth with both hands as you watch the water carry the bleeding red. While you try your best to get the stain off by tugging and pulling, you now see what was once white, has a tinge of red spread all over the cloth.
Read more