I think Lolita is beautifully written and Nabokov is a genius, but the way I see the Lolita-Humbert relationship idolized on tumblr makes me feel a little bit sick. You like older dudes? Cool, me too- but don’t act like it’s a romance, it isn’t. A grown man repeatedly rapes a teenage girl and emotionally manipulates her. Don’t be fooled by the beautiful prose, it’s not a love story.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do."
behold, it is i, the evil social justice warrior, here to ruin your fun by pointing out that you’re being kind of an asshole
Stop shaming the selfie!! Encourage the selfie!!! You feel cute??? You gosh darn show the cute!! Display the cute!!! Let everyone see the cute!!! You’re the cutest thing anyone’s ever seen!!!
This semester I went to the White Privilege Conference in Madison, WI for my honors seminar about examining privilege. I made a poster about the behaviors of particular white female musicians who appropriate other cultures as a means of identity and sexualize/objectify WOC as a means of displaying sexual agency and social power. All under the guise of “empowerment”.
This is my take on the knowledge I found through seminar and readings, (esp. online articles) so in no way do I claim these ideas or concepts as my own.