IMPROPER DOSE NO. 23
©Ale Zapata
-by Barbora Horská (Curator / Editor-in-chief of Improper Dose)
The artist's job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.
— Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris: The Shooting Script
However awful it feels to quote Woody Allen, I admit I reach for Midnight in Paris as soon as November returns us to Standard Time. Hearing Kathy Bates in the role of Gertrude Stein pronounce these words helps me remember that not only winter, too, shall pass, but that there is more to it than survival. While simply getting through challenging times is already an excellent achievement, I'm dedicated to normalizing thriving, teaching myself it is not a choice but a responsibility — in the sense of duty — to take care of myself. This subtle change in perspective forces my brain, preconditioned to put others' needs first or fulfilling a social role, to finally include my well-being on the list of priorities. It does not eliminate the constant inner judgment entirely, but it at least gets the prosecutor on my side.
Imagine a world where we are taught it is an obligation to leave situations where we are being mistreated, even if it means breaking the traditions, choosing to leave the wrong crowd instead of making ourselves small to fit in, and making a decision to stay or leave a relationship based on the quality of a connection over its history. Children's tales have been teaching us these lessons for centuries, yet, many of us still struggle to recognize ourselves in the role of the main protagonist.
A personal Hero's Journey gets more complicated when one's authentic needs and desires clash not only with the immediate circle but with society to the extent that being seen and heard is not only a question of self-respect but self-preservation. However, for how long and in which state can we be preserved without respect for the authentic self? What is it that we are left preserved with in the end when all we do is feed into another's narrative of who we are supposed to be?
The recent terrorist attack on the LGBTQI+ community in my homeland, Slovakia, during which two queer people were killed, brought to light the issue that arguing over who or what ought to be visible in public space means arguing over who and in which form deserves to exist. Generational trauma of suppressing one's self to please the oppressor—a collective fawn response— runs deeply in the nation's veins, bringing up endless variations on "I don't care what they do at home, just don't want to see it in the streets" comment. For these "citizens" and "good Christians" first–humans second, the idea of pretending, hiding and suppressing comes too naturally. In addition to genuine hate towards minorities of any kind, the projection is strongly in place. Not only the most obvious one, as it's often joked about, but one striking deeper to the core of what it means to take up space in the world.
It is the majority's responsibility to create a more inclusive world where everyone, regardless of their inner or outer characteristics and preferences, feels fully safe to exist — seen and out loud. One thing each of us can add to supporting this vision besides organizing and attending protests, conscious communication outside of our opinion bubbles and supporting the initiatives, individuals and businesses owned by people from marginalized groups is to live a little bit more daringly every day ourselves. If nothing else, to learn to recognize whether our efforts are not yet bearing the desired fruit because our willpower is behind a different cause or if we simply judge the results through the lenses of (others') expectations.
Until then, get your Improper Dose:
In Edition no.23, Justina Špeirokaité reflects on the residency program Migratory Anthropocene. Maggie Cassidy-Brinn offers you a look Under the Little Red's (Clitoral) Hood, while Pedro del Real introduces a new character, Mr. Lemon. Pedro also writes longer texts, and if you understand German, you can now purchase a book with one of his speculative fiction stories here.
See you next month!