TEH: some fries, muthafucka
TSOT: heart eyes, muthafucka
HLV: bad guys, muthafucka
TAB: realize, muthafucka
Posted on
Posted on
Posted on
Posted on
Moffat and Gatiss just filmed 90 minutes of the internal monologue of a tortured queer genius drug addict off his tits on coke, wrapped it up in a gothic mystery, and then gave it to us as a late Christmas present.
“Moriarty’s queerness, never subtle to begin with, is undeniable at this point. He’s been in Sherlock’s bed, he shows up dressed as a bride, he says the one thing everyone is thinking when he tells Sherlock and Watson to elope. He even straddles Sherlock and kicks him about in a scene painfully reminiscent of Irene Adler. And it’s all in Sherlock’s mind. This isn’t Moriarty telling Sherlock that he’s his weakness – this is the great detective telling himself that.”
The rage that white men have been expressing, loudly, violently, over the very idea that they might find themselves identifying with characters who are not white men, the very idea that heroism might not be particular to one race or one gender, the basic idea that the human story is vast and various and we all get to contribute a page – that rage is petty. It is aware of its own pettiness. Like a screaming toddler denied a sweet, it becomes more righteous the more it reminds itself that after all, it’s only a story.
Only a story. Only the things we tell to keep out the darkness. Only the myths and fables that save us from despair, to establish power and destroy it, to teach each other how to be good, to describe the limits of desire, to keep us breathing and fighting and yearning and striving when it’d be so much easier to give in. Only the constitutive ingredients of every human society since the Stone age.
Only a story. Only the most important thing in the whole world.
The people who are upset that the faces of fiction are changing are right to worry. It’s a fundamental challenge to a worldview that’s been too comfortable for too long. The part of our cultural imagination that places white Western men at the centre of every story is the same part that legitimises racism and sexism. The part of our collective mythos that encourages every girl and brown boy to identify and empathise with white male heroes is the same part that reacts with rage when white boys are asked to imagine themselves in anyone else’s shoes.
“…because when you’ve been used to privilege, equality feels like prejudice.”
and also
“Capitalism is just a story. Religion is just a story. Patriarchy and white supremacy are just stories. They are the great organising myths that define our societies and determine our futures, and I believe – I hope – that a great rewriting is slowly, surely underway.”