i find my cosmic insignificance reassuring
the stars don’t fucking care who i am or what i do
i owe the universe nothing
i exist on my own terms
#when existentialism becomes comforting rather than horrifying
In response to the question, “What books are you embarrassed not to have read yet?”
I am so glad for this answer. I tire of "but did you read [insert cishet White man with anti-intersectional perspectives and White Savior Industrial Complex]" bla bla or “did you read [insert cishet White woman with book deemed ‘revolutionary’ for ‘all women’]” yet it speaks nothing to my life at all.
Over it. Read what you want.
Yes, yes, yes.
In January, when I was hanging out in Lijiang for break, I got repeatedly teased for not catching cultural references drawn from “the classics.” Why the fuck would I know the name of some character in some “famous” European novel? Why the fuck would I know that that word means to be at the exact, equidistant position opposite of where you are now on Earth? People didn’t say it, but between those and the fact that I’m teaching English in China—and most people who do that are rich losers using Mommy and Daddy’s money—they judged. They thought of me as being less well-read and therefore less intelligent. I wanted to say bitch the things I have to say about this world would blow your mind to bits if you gave me the chance, but of course I didn’t. It wasn’t until a few days later when I dropped phrases and concepts like cognitive dissonance and internalized racism and American hegemony maintained by cultural imperialism (and the fact that I studied neuroscience at an Ivy League institution) that I started getting teased for being “not just a pretty face.”
Even by traditional standards, I am well-educated and well-read. It’s just that the older I get, the less I care about those traditional standards because they are not relevant to my life or to the lives of most people in this world. The ideas of Pedagogy of the Oppressed have done and will do more for most people of the world today than, say, Utopia. The literary canon of “the West” reproduces a hegemonic gaze that dislocates “the West” and casts “the West” as the impartial producer of knowledge and everyone else as the biased objects of study. (Anthropos and humanitas, bitches.) I have no interest in that load of bullshit.