You see a sentence
written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the
meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.
You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.
There is a sentence in
Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in
Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.
You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.
P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.
The Croatian sentence
does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.
That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence. Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.
Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.
You see a word in a
dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not
looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in
your sleep. You wake
up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.
This word means the
same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use
it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never
did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language.
The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.
H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.
One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.
You write my name
is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow
longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re
using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from
the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right
N is not N is not N is
not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N
is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?
There are nine different prefixes
you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it
work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape
of one of its middle consonants.
You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth.
You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.
You now read a text in
Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes,
the meaning searing your mind.
There’s a shot of vodka in front of
you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is
meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.
Joyce, this is Hawkins, okay? You wanna know the worst thing that’s ever happened here in the four years I’ve been working here? Do you wanna know the worst thing? It was when an owl attacked Eleanor Gillespie’s head because it thought that her hair was a nest.
honestly who the heck do those nctzens think they are?? nct are people. humans. with emotions and feelings. they aren’t circus animals that are available at your disposal whenever you want them. for anyone who doesn’t know what a panic attack and/or sensory overload feels like, it’s crap. and triggering mark to have a panic attack for something that could have been easily avoided on the fan’s side is horrible. is being noticed by them really more important than their health? NO. AND YOU COULD CLEARLY SEE IN THE VIDEO THAT MARK WAS HAVING AN ATTACK SO UNLESS YOUVE NEVER HAD/SEEN ONE YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE UNDERSTOOD BUT WHEN SOMEONE TELLS YOU TO BACK UP. YOU BACK UP.
MARK IS LITERALLY THE SWEETEST BOY IN THE WORLD AND I KNOW HE ISNT GOING TO BLAME ANYONE FOR THIS SO IM GONNA DO IT FOR HIM. LEAVE THEM ALONE. SUPPORT THEIR MUSIC. BUY THEIR MERCH. VOTE ON MUSIC SHOWS. BUT DO NOT CROWD, PUSH, HARM, SHOUT AT, OR DO ANYTHING THAT CAN AND WILL POTENTIALLY HURT THEM. IT BREAKS TRUST BETWEEN NCT AND NCTZENS AND IT PREVENTS EVENTS AND STIFF FROM HAPPENING IN THE FUTURE, WHICH SUCKS FOR FANS WHO HAVE NEVER GOTTEN THE CHANCE TO SEE THEM.
In the recent apology, the McElroys proposed sun elf Taako – a way to have a brown character without risking cultural insensitivity. They seem to think it would be a cop out but in reality, this may be their most smooth path.
I was harsh on them in my previous posts because this is an important issue to me and many, many other people for a long time.
We know now that they are aware of our concerns and are offering solutions– but we need to let them know what we want from them.
The problem with the Merle design is that his blackness came off as stereotypical and as tokenism. Had there been more than one character of color in the lead three, this wouldn’t have been an issue.
Sun elf Taako would help ease unrest about their black Merle being tokenism and answer the call for a brown Taako that has been heavily discussed among POC (especially Mexican fans worried about the implications of his plotline).
They have clearly thought very hard about their depictions of these characters– They clearly are willing to do more.
Their decision to make Taako aracial was not the best one, and wasn’t executed that well either, but they thought they did not have the “go for it” they needed from fans to assure them that making their characters people of color was an okay thing to do.
So here it is. It is okay for you to make Taako a sun elf. A dark skinned Merle is perfectly fine and appropriate given that he would not be the only one in the main three who wasn’t pale.
I understand that it is difficult to find these solutions, and I understand that the link between “colorful” fantasy races and anti semitism was not known by the McElroys at the time.
I think most of us fans of color in the TAZ community agree that would be a step in the right direction for the McElroys to take, and help us to trust them again.
We need help from white fans too. So far, it has taken a lot of work for our voices to be seen and heard by the fandom, let alone the McElroys themselves.
I know not all of you agree with our concerns, or our attitude towards the erasure and ignorance we face within this community, this is something that would end the majority of fights in the TAZ tag.
You are probably invested in your white designs and headcanons and I do understand, but please consider the impact it has on us knowing that there is only one single canonical character of color in this whole series– and that even she (Lucretia) is drawn white occasionally by fandom.
If you aren’t willing to alter your designs I understand but I urge you to reblog this, or at the very least consider why you aren’t comfortable with this proposal.
This is something that we have faced in fandoms over and over and we have the opportunity to change it now. So help us do so.