I’m a fighter, not a hater

Talking, writing, blogging, dancing, singing – any way that humans communicate may be elevated to an art form. That’s probably why I’m a big fan of both art and communication. There are so many situations, feelings, experiences, etc., that a single person knkows, and we should celebrate and share these parts of our lives.

Communication is, after all, the primary way we are known, accepted, validated and understood. It’s only natural, then, that we communicate about everything: the things that make us sad, the things that make us angry, the things that make us pay attention, and reevaluate our priorities, and feel thankful for what we have. It’s natural to want to shout at the top of your lungs whether you’ve just gotten fired or just gotten engaged. It’s understandable that you clumsily twist your hips and flex your arms as you try to break it down on the dance floor. It’s fine that you stumble on your words, reach for the right nuance and grasp the wrong tone, fumble the place or syntax or form of a sentence. Because communication may be elevated to an art form, but it’s hard to become an artist, let alone an amazing one.

This brings me to what’s really on my mind: Censorship. I’m not just talking about the government-sponsored, Farenheit 451, thou-art-too-naive/stupid/malleable/easily-influenced-to-read/see/hear/know-this brand of censorship. I’m talking about socially-implemented censorship: not being able to talk about being gay, or being poor, or being happy. I’m talking about having to worry about what people will take you to mean. Because being gay can translate, to some, as being dirty. And being poor, to some, can translate to being lazy. And being happy, to some, can translate to being stupid or lying about your life (because it can’t be that good!), or bragging.

I take issue with censorship, not just on a political level, but on a deeply personal one, too. For that reason, I don’t care how uncomfortable I make you: I will not stop expressing myself. I will not change my style of dress. I will not hush myself. I will not refrain from bubbling over with enthusiasm every time my boyfriend showers me with affection – no matter how often it happens. I will not keep my mouth shut when I’m broke or when my parents are driving me nuts or when my entire world falls apart. I will not miss every opportunity to bring you off your high horse of moral/racial/sexual/gender/class elitism. I. Just. Won’t. Do. It.

I have the right to express myself to the best of my ability. I have the right to decide when to suppress my “wrong” urges. I have the right to live out loud, no matter where I live, what I’m doing, or who is around.

You have the right to be a hater. Because, trust: if you feel the need to censor me, that’s exactly what you are.

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3 responses to “I’m a fighter, not a hater

  1. you know whats interesting, is that once the concept of censorship (and not merely filtering into a different lens) I think I lost my ability to write. You saw what happened to me when I “grew up.” I began to sensor everything. I began dressing like a librarian and faltering at conversation because I no longer felt comfortable talking about how my parents do this and my ex boyfriend did that, and how I love doing this with my tongue when he cums, whatever.

    I stopped blogging because the world around me got so small, and people at work began reading my most innermost thoughts, and thats when the window first shut. Now that I’m immersed in this upper-middle class environment at work, the importance of censorship – or rather, the ART of censorship – has never been so stark. Your comparison clicked into me instantly, because it’s literally like me deciding to tackle a complicated math problem, with some fantasy of triumph. I need a calculator to figure out tip, what the hell made me think calculus was my game? Some things are not in you.

    I feel that the more I get comfortable with letting go of censorship, I’ll be able to find my voice again. But it’s become just that – the world’s perspective of my thoughts have taken over my word placement and selection, and as you mentioned in a previous post – my emotions don’t wait to me. If anything, they fleet faster out of frustration and spite.

    xo.

  2. I feel you! When you’re good at figuring out what people are thinking, it becomes a struggle not to be affected by peoples’ opinions, and when you’re baring your soul on a blog you’re vulnerable to all kinds of criticism. I face the same struggle: How can someone be open and honest with herself AND others ALL. THE. TIME? I’m not sure it’s natural.

    I think I’ve only recently figured out how to do it. The sad (?) truth is, being an open book – a REAL open book – has made me somewhat indifferent to people and their opinions. I’m more apt to be straightforward even when I’m aware that subtle changes in my attitude and actions would render a more positive public response. I figure, why not act naturally? Everyone knows my thoughts now. There ain’t no going back, no hiding from who/what I really am.

    It’s refreshing and frees up so much of my time and energy for more worthwhile tasks, like finishing up short stories for my collection about domming. My only issue with this whole development is that I don’t want to lose that part of me that can read people. I only ever use this skill to fill in my fiction writing, and not for real-life situations; I hope the loss of real-life application for the skill doesn’t mean I’ll lose it. I’m afraid I need the mindfuck in order to keep the skill sharp. For this reason, I’m seriously considering going back to sex work.

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