languishing in addu
just how well do we know pain? how keenly are we attuned to its vibrance?
it's an unwelcome and unavoidable fact of an aging glutton's life. you see, last night i was awakened by an intense ache in the belly. yes, right where the spoils of the evening had been producing this byproduct that ripped through my dreams and had me screaming MAMMAAA.
only i was alone, in a room on an island in the deep south. i took some panadol but there was no relief. not with two tabs. not with four. i was dying, alone in this room in a resort that time had forgotten, one that had changed owners more times than moosalhu his worldview or thakuru his well-ironed shirts.
but let me recall the feast for you. it was lavish and spread across an enormous hall. there were salad greens and vinaigarettes. wild mushrooms stuffed with cheese. grilled potatoes with parsley. roast chicken and gravy. the tenderest leg of lamb with rosemary. saffron rice. lemon tarts. strawberry meringues. and three flavours of homemade ice cream.
so i ate with abandon. and why would i not? i'd been travelling all day thanks to maldivian's reliable delays - maybe an argument for privatisation but i'll leave that to the experts.
now, i suffer. i don't feel the urge to empty my bowels nor the need to throw up. and regardless of how i shift myself on the hotel's decadent mattress, no position offers the slightest relief. fists of pain open and clench beneath my ribs, and when i turn, hellish coals swirl in my gut.
in such agony, the spirit will understandably be subdued. it gives me a glimpse of what life may hold in the end, the very end. alone and wracked by pain. would they matter, those final seconds stretched beyond recognition into a trembling eternity?
would any of it matter?
i don't know. but i'm feeling it. i feel like it's finally too much. the happy roads i walked have turned into sullen culs de sac. there's no beauty here, only rot and decay and pain. so i want to hurry, with my remaining dignity, towards the blinking exit light.
no, there's no punchline. just gas.
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Jason Todd as a Trans (ftm) allegory
Written by me, a trans man
[this edit was made by me, original picture it's Dan Mora's sketch]
TW gender disphoria, (implied) transphobia.
Im not saying his story was written with this perspective in mind, Im saying *death of the author (*the reinterpretation of artistic creations by the public both as a community and aa individuals, and how this goes far beyond the creator's original message on mind) is a very real thing.
This narrative resonated with me, a trans man, and my experience as such. Maybe out there is another transmasc person who caught themselves invested in this character the same way as I, and maybe they'll read this post and be happy to found out they're not alone on these feelings.
Without further addue, let's begin.
The second Robin, and the feeling of not fitting
Every trans person first memory of perceiving oneself as somehow different (and how) it's particular to each.
Some realize pretty young, some older. Some always have this lingering feeling of not belonging but become conscious of it later in life.
This feeling its present trough all of Jason's life. First, when he first arrives at the Manor. Later, when he starts operating as Robin. Then when Tim "replaces him", and so on.
Usually labelled as the black lamb of the family.
Tragedy is always, first, born off love
Jason's death and resurrection is written as a tragedy (no shit, Sherlock). But there, to be a tragedy, there has to be hope first. There has to be love.
Now, this varies from version to version, but a general consence is that Jason Todd was loved by Bruce Wayne, regardless of how much their relationship might change and twist on the future; Jason Todd was a good kid, regardless of how he might be portrayed as recless. He was a traumatized, angry kid who wanted to make things better. Who wished for bad guys to not hurt people anymore. Who wished to change the system for better, and took the matter on his own hands both as a child and as a young adult.
This
This right here
Was a loved, brave, bold, sensitive, mischievous, smart child who would latter come back like this:
Demanding justice, demanding damnation for al the pain he went through, demanding retaliation to the monster that set him off this world.
And all these requests fell to the ears of Bruce Wayne, Batman. The man who took him in as a scared, bold litte child that beated him in the cold of the night in the alley where his parents died. He stole his car tires, he's a child and he stole his car tires and he made Batman laugh.
That Perception doesn't change with his rise from the dead.
What changes is Bruce's view of him now.
Now, this depends on the writer, but on the start of Jason's "coming back to Gotham to fight Bruce" arc, there is the accusation of him coming back wrong.
Of him being better before
Of something being wrong with him since the start.
The implications of his physical change as wrong in comparation to his younger self.
I find Jason's body dismorphia due to The Lazarus Pit™ very interesting,but in this case Im not referring to it as a comparation with body disphoria (even through, he does get the feeling of your body changing in ways out of your control and the trauma that surrounds it).
Im talking about Bruce's view on all of this.
Luckily, if you're trans and had supportive parents, you won't know these things by first hand experience, but many, many people do.
And Jason gets it.
Jason Todd its womanhood™ coded
This is, partially, one of th main reasons why his fanbase consists on a large part of fangirls.
Repressed rage upon the injustices you go through all your life, and once the last drop falls, said rage is weaponized. Seen as dirty, as over the top, as dangerous.
Your older self being compared to your younger self, being asked (directly or indirectly) where that sweet child™ went.
Being striped away from your body autonomy (murder, torture, resurrection against his will, whatever is going on in Batman Gotham War).
Being labeled as the most sensitive. Sometimes in a good light, sometimes not.
The burning weight of still loving parental figures that hurted you.
Topping it all, it's implied through many instances he's a feminist (yes, Im aware this is also heavily influenced by fanon interpretations of the character, but you can't deny it's still heavily implied).
All of these issues almost universal (however not exclusive) to AFAB people life experience.
There is this recognition in these wounds. "He gets it", you feel, he gets it.
He gets it in a similar way transmasc individual have an undeniable insight of these issues. He gets it in a way that feels genuine, familiar, personal.
Lastly but nor least important,
He gives me gender™ vibes. That's it, that's the argument
Over all, Jason Todd its a multifaceted, complex character. He's morally grey, his temperament ranging and mutating with each reinterpretation. Some core issues stick, others don't.
I do not hold the one and only right interpretation of this character.
We can al agree, nevertheless, that even through he's not canonically trans,
Jason todd would be a great trans ally, fighting by our side, in name of our rights, our pain but also our pride.
For that's what heroes do.
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