#and in our own capitalist hellscape with fascism on the rise i do think it actually matters to believe in the capacity to still do good

[perpetuallyfive]

what moving forward really looks like

I’ve seen some discussions of g witch that seem to focus on the idea that in a capitalist hellscape with fascist undertones around every corner, there can’t be objective morality, so who can say what actions are truly good or bad.

And while I do think the show rejects overly binary thinking, it seems to me that the idea that your past mistakes aren’t really mistakes because you had no other choices goes entirely against the point it is making more overtly week to week. The show doesn’t want to engage in really simplistic moralizing of “this was a bad thing so this is an innately bad person.” I agree with that.

However, I do think the show wants to make the point that even in the worst circumstances, in a truly horrific world surrounded by relentless destruction, it’s possible to make your own choices for yourself that work toward being better and doing good, no matter what you may have done or experience before. That objective good can exist and is worth striving for, despite the horror around you, despite the murkiness in charting that course.

This episode both Miorine and Suletta model the idea that in order to truly move forward you must accept your past. A focus on revenge can keep you looking back but so can self-flagellation. If you become overly consumed with guilt, you won’t move beyond the mistakes you regret, which makes the remorse more selfish than productive. In order to grow, in order to do anything right, you have to accept the responsibility of your mistakes but you also very literally have to move beyond them.

Likewise, you have to learn to accept your pain, the things that have deeply hurt you, and you have to want to move past that pain in order to be anything more than an accumulation of agonies. Prospera’s quest for revenge is a motivation entirely derived from her past. Every time she “moves forward” she is actually looking back, focused forever on her own pain. That’s why the daughter in the machine — the child who never got to grow up — is more real to her than the one she has raised into her teenage years. Because those were years Eri never experienced, that is a truth the past her never knew.

Suletta’s accomplishments and chances for a happy and successful life — not to mention the objective good they could do as GUND-ARM, Inc. — is all secondary to the memory of her dead daughter forever stuck as data that can’t grow up, can’t move on. Both Eri and Prospera are stuck 21 years in the past, unable to mature or change or evolve. She doesn’t know how to change course, because to her that would would mean letting go; it would be a betrayal.

But Suletta demonstrates an ability to acknowledge where you came from, what you have experienced, how it has shaped you, and to still make choices of your own beyond that, to still chart her own path. In these last several episodes, Suletta has chosen to move beyond her regrets and anxieties and accept that all the things that have happened have made her the person who is here ready to take her next steps forward, where truly the only thing she is guaranteed to gain — in spite of all she risks — is growth.

Even though she thinks she learned the idea of moving forward from her mother, it’s very clear that Suletta has actually learned a more tangible way to gain two by actually learning to change and to grow. I’m not sure a more stark example of “do as I say, not as I do” has ever really existed.

[livelaughleave]

Late to the Party

I decided to start a blog this morning because the alternative is doing my made up email job and I don't feel like it.

This is not a blog *about* anything. It is simply a thought repository living in the void on a platform clinging to relevancy (analogous to my own life). 

I am also starting this blog because dropping diatribes about Fidel Castro in the group chat at 7 in the morning is, apparently, annoying. 

What I am actually thinking about today is our national inclination towards fascism. I will not call it a descent when we’ve been here all along, but it does feel that way, partially because for a moment in time it seemed like a movement towards liberation was building. Personally, I never felt more patriotic than I did in 2020 when Twitter was full of pictures of burning police precincts. But, much like the precincts fires themselves, that energy has fizzled out and now here we sit in a capitalist hellscape of our own making. 

Cities are unlivable. Land is unobtainable. More and more people are freezing to death on sidewalks in front of unoccupied billion dollar high-rises. Fish are like 80 percent plastic, and the LGBTQIA+ community is under constant attack by politicians and for some inexplicable reason, the lady who wrote Harry Potter.

Since there’s so much to unpack in that last paragraph, I guess I will start with issues facing the LGBTQIA+ community, and because I am feeling particularly hateful towards the Harry Potter lady, trans folks. 

In case any of you reading this are suffering from similar brain rot, I would like to remind you that trans people have existed since the beginning of human civilization and will continue to exist right up until the very end. Our understanding of gender, sex, and sexuality may have changed, but that is an indisputable fact. 

Because of this indisputable fact, the likelihood that you have shared a restroom with someone who is not of your same biological sex is as certain as my mom is that I should have done more with my life. 

There is no nefarious plot by the trans community to infiltrate bathrooms and commit assaults. The moral panic around this completely made up and baseless scenario is alarming on So. Many. Levels. especially because it is mostly centered around a fixation on child sexual abuse. If these toads (no offense to actual toads) really cared about that, they would focus on the areas where it occurs most often - the family and the church, but because the nuclear family and the church are two pillars upholding the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy we call home, that will never happen. 

We must then conclude that this was never really about The Children and was only ever about neutralizing any threat to the aforementioned white supremacist capitalist patriarchy we call home.    

[demoisverysexy]

An Open Letter to the Person who Blocked Me for Being Mormon

For context:

If you’re reading this, I hope it finds you well.

This letter is mostly for me, so I can get my feelings out. I’ve already talked about this with a few of my friends, and I’m feeling better than I was than when you blocked me. I’m still upset. Mostly because of general trends I see on tumblr of hatred for Mormons. A lot of it comes from ignorance and misunderstanding. Some of it comes from a place of genuine hurt that can’t go unaddressed. I don’t want to be dismissive of those who have faced trauma at the hands of my church. I am one of those people, and I know how deeply pain associated with my church can be. After our interaction, I felt that talking about it would help me process this.

Before I go on, I must be clear that this is not an attempt to get you to unblock me. As nice as it would be to be able to see your blog again – you’re very witty, and I enjoy your content! – I can live without it. This is more a response to the trend on tumblr specifically of hatred against Mormons, and assuming that they’re all bad people who are complicit in every single bad thing that the church does. You just happened to force me to be a little introspective about my church and my relation to it. Thank you for that.

First, however, I would like to clear up some misconceptions:

Your initial joke that prompted me to tell you I was a Mormon was a joke about Mormons and polygamy. The largest two organizations that can be classified as “Mormon,” The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and the Community of Christ (which incidentally allows for gay marriage and has female clergy, though I am of the LDS sect), both disavow polygamy. There are other, smaller offshoot Mormon groups who do still practice this, which is where horror stories of polygamists marrying teenagers arise. These people are also Mormons, though I wish they weren’t, in the same way that problematic Christian groups are Christian, though many Christians wish they weren’t.

I do recognize that mainstream Mormonism has been labeled as a cult by many people, though the reasons people provide generally don’t hold up. Often the proof that people provide of my church’s cult-like nature is to take note of corruption that can be found in almost every church. These issues – such as racism, homophobia, and misogyny, to name a few – while real and important to address do not a cult make. Sometimes the proof is to point towards practices that are demonized in my church, but are practiced in other religions with no comment, or even celebration. Other times people will point to their own experiences with toxic church congregations, and while those issues are very real, they are by no means universal. My experience growing up Mormon was a lucky one in many ways. I personally don’t think that most people who study my church from an academic vantage point would call it a cult. I would consult them on this matter. After all, someone in a cult is rather hard-pressed to be able to tell whether they are in one or not.

Another point often levied against Mormonism is how it leaves its queer members with religious trauma due to its homophobic teachings. I understand this well. I have experienced deep religious trauma associated with my political stances in favor of LGBTQ+ rights (though that wasn’t the whole story). I won’t go into detail about this right now, but suffice it to say, I had a very traumatic time on my mission that led me to a very dark place, and ended with me contemplating choices I would never be able to take back. I’m fine now of course, but I carry those memories with me.

So why would I stay despite all this? Is it because I’m brainwashed? You would have to ask a psychologist about that, but I would say probably not. I knew, and know now, that the ways I was being treated were unfair and wrong. I don’t have time to go point by point to address every grievance I or anyone else has with my church and explain my position on it, as much as I would like to clear the air once and for all on this topic so there is no misunderstanding. Here’s the reasoning that has kept me here so far:

I think that every person of faith must, at some point, deal with the problematic aspects of their church’s history and doctrine. This comes with the territory. Whether it be disturbing stories in scripture, imperialist tendencies, doctrines that chafe against us, or problematic leaders, no person of faith is exempt from wrestling with the history that accompanies their faith. I have studied my church’s history in depth. Many of the horror stories I heard were provably false. Many were true. Where does that leave me?

I believe that God is bigger and better than us. We make terrible, awful mistakes all the time. But I don’t think that makes God less willing to work with us. If anything, I think it means he wants to help us more. He wants to help us move past our histories and become better. My church has a long way to go in this regard. For too long we have been silent when it mattered, and people have been wounded by our silence. Or even the words we have said out loud! If you look at my Mormonism tag on my blog, you will see some examples of what I am talking about. I have been wounded by the things my church has said and not said. It hurts awfully, and I ache for those who have been wounded more deeply than I.

But at the same time, I cannot deny the healing my faith has brought me. Whatever problems my church has – and it has many, deep and pressing issues – it is because of my faith that I am the person I am today. I can draw a straight line from my religion to the positions I hold today. Because I am a Mormon, I became a Marxist. Because I am a Mormon, I became nonbinary. Because I am a Mormon, I became a leftist. I cannot ignore that my religion, flawed as it may be, has led me to where I stand now. I am at the intersection of the hurt and healing the church offers. It is a difficult line to walk. But I hope that in walking it, I can bring healing and love to those who hurt in the ways I do. To let them know that they are not alone, and that they have a friend who can help them wherever they choose to go.

Yes I am queer. Yes I am a Mormon. I am here because I am trying to fix things. If at some point in the future I realize that I cannot change things, perhaps I will leave. I hope it does not come to that. And things are changing. They have changed before, and they can change now. I am confident that my God is willing to lead my church where it needs to go. I hope I can help speed things along. We shall see.

But spreading unequivocal hatred and disdain for Mormons does not help those of us who are Mormon who are trying to fix things. Yes, those who have left Mormonism due to trauma need a safe place to be away from that, and acknowledging the church’s many faults can be helpful to those people. I myself have criticized my church quite vocally. But refusing to listen to the stories of those of us who choose to stay, telling others that we are evil or stupid or what have you, is also quite traumatic to us. We are people too, with thoughts and feelings. It is easy to dismiss us out of hand if you assume we aren’t.

I try to be open about my religion and political stances on my tumblr. See for yourself: It’s a mix of Mormonism, LGBTQ+ activism, Marxism, and pretty much every other leftist political position you can find. Along with all the furry stuff, of course. But despite all this, I am still terrified every time someone follows me to tell them I am Mormon. More than I am to tell them that I’m queer. Tumblr is not representative of how things work in the “real world,” of course, but I have received hatred for being a Mormon there as well. And it’s mostly other Christians. So on the one hand I’m hated by LGBTQ+ folks, on the other hand I’m hated by my church for being queer, and on the third hand (as apparently I have three hands), I am hated by other Christians. I do not face hatred to the same degree from other Christians. I saw it most on my mission. But still, it exists.

(Incidentally, Evangelicals, who you seem to have problems with, and perhaps rightly so, though I have not done a study of the matter myself, largely despise Mormons, from what I have heard. Something to consider.)

I want allies. I want help. I want understanding. If I am to push back against bigotry in my church, I need your help. I need everyone’s help. Fighting bigotry wherever we see it is a worthy pursuit, I think. And if we can succeed, we can make the world a better, safer happier place. I want to fight off the ghosts that haunt my church. You don’t have to fight them with me, but I would appreciate it if I could have your support. It would make my job much easier.

We aren’t enemies. At least, I don’t think you’re my enemy. We both have been hurt by homophobia and bigotry. We live in a capitalist hellscape where police brutality and racism are on the rise. Fascism is looming over the political backdrop, along with the ongoing threat of ecological disaster. I think we would be better off helping each other than going after each other. I ask that you please listen to us when we say you are hurting us. The Mormons you blocked knowingly followed you, an openly queer person who calls out racism and bigotry and pedophilia. Yet you assume we are in favor of those things. Someone can at once be part of an institution while recognizing it’s flaws. (Aren’t we both Americans? Why not move if we hate it so much?) And perhaps we have used the “No true Scotsman” fallacy to justify why we stay. I don’t believe I have. I don’t feel I need to.

I hope that you consider what I’ve said here. I hope we can work together. And I hope that no matter what, you find peace wherever you end up.

Yours truly,

Demo Argenti