Who Doesn’t Want to Feel Special?

Headshot of Creature Karin Webb. Pierced septum and medusa, glasses on top of forehead. Medium length light brown hair, light chin hairs, faint sparse mustache, blue eyes.

I don’t think it’s controversial to say that many (the majority, all?) people feel something lacking in their lives. The rules of passing (by definition) demand that we assemble versions of ourselves to present to the public which look like others’. In high school unpopular kids turned their noses up at peers who were able to find a place within groups made up of characters who were “different like everyone else”. Today it seems there’s still a desire to be seen as “different like my own self”, and perhaps the group of people desiring these things are from a larger circle than one might expect. The condition of never feeing “enough” has stopped many people from coming out in their lives, or even entertaining an acknowledgement within themselves about subjects which seem taboo.

I can’t tell you how regularly and from how many differently presenting people I hear about the desire to be understood as “special”, “different from the pack”, “individually recognized for their personal values, against type”… Ironically, I feel as though being seen in the world for who I am—queer, genderfluid, “sexual” rather than type-X-oriented—incites the opposite desire. I’d prefer people to see me (and those traits) as normal. After all, sex and gender variations are normal, as is sensual desire across a spectrum of types. These things are evident throughout all of nature, they’re well documented and acknowledged within our contemporary society, and they’ve been present across cultures and nations historically.

Desire for pleasure to be felt in the body—any place on the body—stimulated by a person who can be connected with safely and amorously: is normal.

The desire to be seen as a valuable individual, not simply generalized as part of a larger group’s legacy: is normal.

To want to be viewed as separate from whichever archetypes you represent or appear to align with: is normal.

To want your story to count is human: and normal.

People who’ve spent their lives unable to profit off the patriarchy because they don’t pass social standards, have spent time wrestling with their defined differences from the norm. Within wrestling most of us come to love ourselves in spite of, and even for the very things we feel rejected about or harassed for. I wonder, in this ever polarizing world where community member is pitted against community member for survival, if it’s just simply time for a tide named “different” to sweep the land? May we all be better nourished if that is so.

Acceptance of self requires a growing acceptance of others. From an early age we learn to identify “against” rather than “with”. This type of divide perpetuates an “us against them” mentality which serves to keep all of us down. I hope we’re starting to value the need for individual acceptance over herd mentality. I’m all for it, but not at the expense of othering people as collateral damage on the path to perceived freedom. In an ideal vision of growth we’re able to share our hard won identities with pride, without posing over those we’ve climbed over in order to get there, or painting others into a corner in order that we might stand out as “more enough than they are”.

We cannot use the master’s tools to destroy the master’s house.

We’re born alone, we die alone, and we have gifts to offer the universe which are simply our gifts to give.

Capitalism, our prevailing paradigm, incites fear, belief in baseline instability, and promotes unkind behavior in reaction to the idea that anything valuable exists within a starvation economy. These ideas extend to concepts which are bottomless by nature—love, compassion, empathy, and admiration, for example. The games we’ve learned to play in order to survive have taught us that if we aren’t “on top”, there will be too little to live off of. Those beliefs (lies) steal from us the very human traits which link us to one another meaningfully and contribute to communal success. Our society was built off the concept of: hierarchical placement = value of personhood. If we truly believe one human is more valuable than another, we’re also doomed to acknowledge our own specialness as important only when it offers power over others. This measure of a person’s individual gifts to community is against the concept of community.

Today is National Coming Out Day. Just a couple days ago the Supreme Court heard arguments about, and is currently ruminating on, whether LGBT people deserve equal rights and protection in the workplace. Can you even wrap your head around that? I have a hard time doing it. We live in a country that defines itself as the “land of the free”, and has as its founding principle a separation of church and state. Still though, our State feels the need to consider whether or not some people are more free than others when it comes to physical presentation, sexual attraction, and opportunity to identify oneself honestly.

But Capitalism, am I right?!…

Follow the money.
Look to the power
Your cup of cool-aid is on the table.

It’s not hard to understand the intersection where people get stuck: wanting to be actualized through creativity, inspiration, and congress with positive, pleasurable energies we feel comfort around; while being bound to an environment which denies safe access of basic needs to those who don’t effectively pass while playing the game.

The game is bigoted. We all know this.

Trauma from trying to survive in society is real. Not a single one of us and no single group of us owns that hurt. To create meaningful change it will take many of us calling to the powers that be, the ones who have “won” the game, and holding them accountable concerning how the system hurts us all. That, or a violent uprising, but miles may vary on those…

We run into problems when we turn people into symbols. Conflating an individual with a symbol, archetype, social role, defining them by their job, other identity affiliations, belief system, pleasure activities, or any other single corner of a their experience, is a way to cut down and control them. We endeavor to control others in order to keep ourselves safe and profitable. Knowing one’s place in the pecking order (thereby buying in to the pecking order in the first place) offers us opportunity to harm others in our stead. Those with none below them, and those who decline superiority, suffer in this system. More of us must suffer for the system to collapse, and eventually the masses of those who suffer must teach their suffering to those who remain less touched.

In the quest for specialness (which is really a quest for acknowledgement that we are enough) perhaps the most important thing to remember is that we all deserve things which make us happy, especially things which do no harm to others. I don’t think it’s possible to be meaningfully “special” without celebrating the specialness of others and striving toward egalitarianism. I hope that idea helps heal current divides. Divides serve to rob people of a sense of self which is expansive and complex. Working within a limited sense of self, what specialness exists that a person can be proud of in the first place?

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
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Journey to Dirt

In the beginning there was mucous, blood, grey and purple skin. There were cacophonous sounds and everything was light. Hands on your body, sensation of your own cry, coughing up the fluid from inside. Cold steel, warm blankets, pinpricks, trembling hands passing the new body around, the breath of your parents on your face, or not. It is romantic to think it was violent, that moment of your birth, it is arrogant to believe it was not.

Everything had changed.

Growth happened over the years. Plague and fear. Your unlimited curiosity stabbed by the million laws. Gratefulness is replaced with unrealistic needs. Things. A shopping spree of ballcaps, TVs, the latest brightener, soothe-goop, popstar jewels extracted unethically from third world thighs, and cattle crying in the fields for tenderer meat… Somewhere inside we must be trying to find the womb, swim against this tide, get back to our shuddering mucous covered muteness. Peace within ineptitude — now achievable through only our greatest sins. Sex by numbers is a game we placate our inner demons with, not seeing they grow wilder at the smell of our rancid unused groins… We need these demons, telling us who we are and what we’re meant to be. Lubricating oils spontaneously produce, made of scented atoms which open our chests to one another, engage the feral beasts underneath. The most natural thing is to growl as two and four-legged pheromones pass us. Sweat is the Goddess we were warned about.

Instead we play at it, repress, shame, shroud in silence, and ignore the harmonic dance of life.

We turn on the telly to remember how it goes: fuck when you see fuck, cry when you see cry, or sometimes rigidly sit in flaccid bewilderment while the clown fails to connect with you. These choreographies were meant for flesh met times. We aren’t learning an authentic dance.

The edge of a cliff looms. Stare down the slick walls of your erectness and the whole world seems opportunity to procreate. Unpracticed we fail and fail again, jizz impotent. Tissues, a hand. Silent. Waste without the divine intertwined.

You forget you are holy.

The most natural thing is touching yourself. Feel the hum of blood, rise and fall of sunshine in your chest. The most natural thing is wanting others, give and take, dark roots, bright moon.

Sip in the air, open up your chest. Oxygen works its way from center to the infinity above your head and depths down. Extend your range, aim to horizon and beyond, it’s what you are here for. Fill Universe with sound and light, your mucus filled lungs and mini images of you flying into the vastness. Again! Again! Thrive! Find delight! Seduce, ground, recognize this road lined in shining mica to the dirt.

Silence lies sold to you for comfort.  Bad exchange, believing yourself worthless, unwhole, made wrong, incomplete, or meant for less.

We are powerful and brilliant. Older siblings reaching hands to help the next. We are frustrated beetles covering the windowsills of this house, trying forever to stay warm and get the fuck out. We are hardy and hopeful, shaking the Earth, stepping on ground given us which someday will swallow all whole. Fall into soil. Risen from sex. Lived wary of love or discovery, no true release. How do we Gods master time before bugs carry corpus away? Smell of rain and soil is calling from your cunt. We learn to play.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

Courage

My dashboard garden is back and I’m so happy to watch these beautiful creatures grow!

I feel really great in my body these days. I wish I’d known sooner what hormones could do for me. The experience of enjoying my physical body in the mirror and under my own fingertips rather than feeling trapped in it and persistently worried about how I look IS AMAZING!!! Seriously, I had no idea daily life could be like this. I think T is lifting a lifelong fog of depression and anxiety off of me and I’m very thankful for it.

To everyone who ever point blank told me to my face that “they just see me as a girl”, or “I just seem more femme rather than butch to them”, or that “I just look better when I dress girly”, or that “I’m not a tomboy b/c tomboys don’t wear dresses”, or any other reinforcement of the female femme ideal — which is already constantly crammed down my throat by the rest of the world (and to which I don’t usually choose to interact with face to face): You are a huge reason I didn’t get here earlier. I need you to know that. I need you to know that not because I want to tell you you were wrong, but because I want you to consider the weight of pressuring others to be as you wish them to be. It hurts to be told you can’t be who you feel you are. It is a painful lifestyle to persist holding a line you’re told to hold which feels wrong, and some of us are good enough at holding on, that we really need friends and to have role models who see us for who we are and who give us permission to let that line go.

I sincerely apologize to anyone if my words or actions have ever made them feel small about their identities or wrong about sharing themselves with me. It’s never been an intention of mine. I haven’t always understood as much about how my words affect each person I’m speaking to, and I know I’ll make mistakes in the future too, but I want to know when I do. I want the opportunity to reconsider the meaning of my actions. I want to be better than my mistakes.

I roundly thank everyone who has seen me and believed me and accepted me as I’ve journeyed and evolved and learned to articulate myself over the years. Without you I would still be desperately wanting things I didn’t feel I deserve to get (which is on me, but you all really helped me out a lot).

As I write, acknowledging this feeling of happiness I’ve been feeling since starting T, I want this moment to be a reminder to consider the impact of our very human desire to label others — especially to their faces — with labels we’re comfortable with rather than the labels someone else tells you they want to be labeled as. Almost every single bit of information we take in in this world is gendered, racially loaded, ableist, and constructed to tear our individualities down for the benefit of a privileged class. We can (and must) change that by considering one another not as objects, but as individual creatures with vibrant internal worlds which we will never be privy to the full intricacies of without asking first, without believing the answers we receive, and without caring to wonder more deeply about who we’re interacting with in the first place. When someone tells you who they are (and who they are not), consider believing them immediately before questioning what they’re saying. Consider asking questions about how that works if you aren’t sure you understand. Consider trusting people who gather the courage to tell you something about themselves.

Love from my glowing, growing, vibrant garden inside, and as always —

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature (Crea)

Please support my work at Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

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