“Do you
still believe in perfection?” A soft female voice asked, breaking the silence
that surrounded the abandoned walls of what had been once a home, the
wallpapers were rotting, the bats had claimed the upstairs, the figure of a
curvy young female could be distinguished within the weak lights that managed
to spare the room’s darkness, she looked holy, unlike everything around her;
Everything was dying, vanishing, everything but her and the young male curling
up against the darkest corner. “Let me
go.” He begged, and she smiled as if she mocked of his cowardly, the blonde
still made her way towards him; slowly, letting the echo of her heels rumble on
the walls.
“Let you
go? Were you intending to let me go before?” She asked with certain curiosity
as the light finally illuminated her perfect oval face, enhancing the smoothly
pale skin that had started to look way too inhuman for him in the moment she
had freed herself form his grip. “Look, I’m sorry.” He squeaked
desperately, leaning forward in a last try to negotiate, but it seemed like she
sweet girl from the bar had turned into the worst demon he could ever had
imagined, one that had already crushed the bones of his right foot in a second,
the young man was scared, sweating, and perhaps for the first time in his life:
praying. “You said I was an angel, the most perfect think that ever walked on
earth.” She added sweetly, ignoring his grief as soon there were no more steps
to take, he was right next to her feet.
“What
changed?” She questioned him as she pulled him up so easily, grabbing his cheap
leather jacket to pin him against the wall, finally the light illuminated his
dirty black hair, such a beautiful face he would have, she just could wonder
how many girls had fallen under his wing, how many of them had survived, for
once the ancient vampire didn’t want to find out about that, she simply decided
to finish, satisfy her thirst with him, he would be a fair resistance to her
deadly bite, or so she hoped he would be. “Let me go!” He screamed in the
moment her small but sharp fangs broke his delicate skin. “Bitch!” He added,
giving his best push, but her hands were firm rocks holding him against the
concrete. His heartbeat accelerating, like a chicken that just had its head
cut, he fought, but soon enough he gave in and in a moment his life was nearly
gone. “It’s Bianca.” She finally whispered in his ear before letting his figure
fall down, finally lifeless. “You might as well…send my salutations to my
kinsmen down there, Thomas.”
There’s a certain attitude that scares the shit out of me – let’s call it destructive sensitivity. It’s the philosophy that, if an idea is uncomfortable, it needs to go away. If an image upsets you, or reminds you of a bad experience you had, then not only should you not have to look at it, no one should be allowed to look at it. And if you can’t eradicate it completely, it should at least be buried so deep that a casual viewer would never stumble upon it. This kind of censorship is nothing new, but I feel like it’s becoming more and more common. So, why do I think it’s a problem?
FICTION
An important question we need to ask ourselves first is, what is the purpose of media, and particularly of fiction? Why do we read, why do we look at artwork, why do we watch movies? To only see happy things? As escapism? That’s certainly a valid interpretation, but it’s not the only one.
For the artist or creator, fiction can be a way to communicate the inner self to the outer world, through the use of symbols. It’s a means of expression. What they express might be deep, might be simple, might be beautiful or disgusting, might be for a niche audience or the whole world, but in the end, it is the artist taking pieces of their own experience and creating something new.
For the viewer, fiction is a way to understand things that are outside their experience, and a way to expand their experience safely. Fiction allows us to go places and do things that we can’t or wouldn’t in our own lives, without risk, without physical harm, and without causing harm to others. Fiction can teach us what we fear, what we love, what we’re missing. It can show us how others live, how others see us, how we see ourselves, and we’re free to engage with it as shallowly or as deeply as we want.
But fiction is not equal to reality. Watching Friday the 13th doesn’t make you a murderer, and it doesn’t kill you. Reading Lolita doesn’t make you a pedophile. Writing a story where a character is raped is not the same as committing rape, and reading that story is not the same as being raped. Thought is not crime.
CENSORSHIP
Censorship is a way to force your interpretation of material on others, to reduce or destroy another’s experience by prejudging it as harmful to them. But part of becoming a well-rounded human being is accepting that not everyone has the same sensibilities, and not every experience needs to be positive.
What you find offensive, some might find enjoyable. What you find traumatic, some might see as an exercise in empathy, or a means of catharsis. Sad songs can be beautiful. Horror stories can be fun. When you decide to silence the things you don’t like, you’re cutting off others from that same experience. You’re making decisions for others, and you’re essentially saying that your feelings (and the feelings of people who agree with you) are more valid than anyone else’s. I find this darkly ironic, because the audience that holds these particular sensitivities also tends to be the first to champion acceptance and non-traditional viewpoints, while organizing witch hunts for those they feel disrespect them.
So, why is this important to me? Why does it scare me? Well, as an artist, the complaint of one sensitive viewer can erase my work in an instant. When complaints are made, content is removed first and questions are asked later. Artists are guilty by default, and viewers are treated as victims. No content host wants to be the one to stand up for freedom of expression at the risk of being seen as supporting offensive material. Most alarming of all, this is all seen as totally acceptable, or even justified. When an artist’s work is taken down, I see comments like, “Well, that’s the risk you take when you post stuff like that. Can’t be helped.” Even the people who disagree with censorship just shrug their shoulders.
SENSITIVITY
To those who are sensitive, I’m not trying to say, “just get over it”. Emotional hurt is real, traumatic experiences are real. I would never belittle someone else’s pain. But you have to realize as well that your experience is not the be-all, end-all of the world. Not all content is made with you in mind. It is inevitable, if we want to exist in a world with other people in it, that we’ll be exposed to things we don’t enjoy. The answer is not to destroy or degrade those things, but to try to understand them – and if that fails, at the very least, we can allow them to exist on equal terms. It is that frightening desire to homogenize the world, to eliminate that which we fail to understand or which causes us emotional distress, that can lead as to real prejudice, to real violence and real crime. Please understand that allowing content you dislike to exist is not the same as advocating it.
THE ANSWER
What I would love to see is a perspective shift. I want to see a world where responsibility is on the viewer, not the creator or the content host. If you have a problem with something, it’s up to you to not see it, not for the artist to hide it for you, or add unavoidable warnings that prejudge a work. I want a world where, rather than censorship by default, censorship is a conscious choice for those who want it. No work is hidden until a user hides it themselves. Artists are not punished for merely posting content that some find offensive, only for not tagging it correctly. Freedom of expression and variety of content is seen as more important than protecting viewers from fiction, from discomfort, from viewpoints that don’t mesh with their own.
Accept others. Take responsibility for yourself (and only yourself). Understand that not all content is meant for you. Understand that fiction is not crime, and fiction does not equate to real-world harm. That’s all I’m asking.
(please don’t let this become a shitstorm… TT _ TT)
