#god knows i am a terror who does not always succeed. that's called being human and i don't think any of us should berate ourselves for it

[teenagefeeling]

"social skills are something you can work on learning and it will help with social anxiety!" this is true, but are you saying it because you want to help or are you saying it to shame people? because not everyone is gonna always have amazing social skills, even people who don't normally struggle have bad days. holding people to such a high standard and expecting everyone to be able to be at 100% all the time not only isn't fair, but imo isn't a healthy mindset because you're also putting that pressure on yourself.

yes, social skills can be learned. but for a lot of us, they're really hard to learn and even harder to put into practice. sometimes when someone has poor social skills it's not just because they don't know any better, there are other factors at play making things more difficult. i think we should all learn to be a little more patient with each other and get comfortable with the idea that different people might have different methods of communication, and sometimes you're gonna have to be the one who adjusts for someone else (whether that involves learning stronger social skills or being patient with someone who isn't there yet)

communication is hard to get right, and it's impossible for anyone to get it right all the time. it's okay if you stutter while speaking or can't ask for ketchup at a restaurant or whatever. it's okay. you will get there with practice. not being able to do it overnight is okay. it's a long process to get comfortable with these things. not everyone is always going to be patient with you, but that's their problem, not yours. be proud of yourself for the small victories and don't let demanding assholes online convince you that you aren't good enough as you are.

[afriendtokilltime]

Okay, fine. Let’s talk about parasocial relationships.

The term “parasocial” has been making the rounds as a very very smart sounding thing to say. It not only establishes that you know an unusual and complex word, but also that you are too smart to fall for marketing tactics, and that you are much too cool to show enthusiasm for anything!

So, what’s a parasocial relationship? It’s a one-sided relationship with a celebrity or fictional character--the entire relationship takes place in your head. You’re reading this on tumblr, which means you have lots of parasocial relationships. You’re very parasocially popular! Maybe you even have one with me. (Probably not, I stopped posting for a long time, so we probably don’t parasocially know one another at all.)

I first encountered this term being used as an inherently bad thing, something to avoid, as though the term referred to the negative version of itself. What I saw was not people explaining why it can be harmful, but speaking as if we all know it is (the way you’d use “alcoholism”).

I see people carefully watching themselves to make sure they aren’t engaging in a “parasocial relationship,” or referring to a behavior they don’t like as “borderline parasocial relationship behavior.” But, there is no such thing as “relationship behavior” other than closing the psychological distance between yourself and another person. “Parasocial relationship behavior” is doing this, but it’s one-sided. You get closer, and they do not. That’s it. That’s the only thing. Does that mean building a shrine to Kristen Stewart? Does it mean crying with joy at Hbomberguy’s Mermaids/Donkey Kong stream? Does it mean writing a 100k fanfiction about Hermione Granger, Vampire Slayer? Does it mean buying a David Bowie CD? Does it mean begging the show writers to finally make that queerbaity relationship canon? Does it mean killing the president? You decide! 

Becoming psychologically closer to people and characters is not inherently unhealthy, whether they know who you are or not. How you treat them and respond to that closeness, and how they choose to cultivate closeness, can of course be unhealthy...but so can reciprocal relationships.

What’s weird to me is that we generally seem to be aware that there are bad and good (healthy and unhealthy) relationships. I have a good relationship with @randomshoes because we support each other, are interested in each others’ success, spend quality time together, and communicate well. If I was to stalk her or kill a president for her, or if she was to abuse my trust and take all my money while falsely assuring me she loved me, our relationship would be somewhat less healthy. 

So, what’s so bad about parasocial relationships?

They don’t actually care about you and they are taking your money.

If a marketing team/a celebrity uses these relationships to prey on vulnerable people, that might be an abusive relationship...in the other direction. If I manipulate a friend I know out of her money, I’m the bad guy, right? But if I’m famous, and she’s 16, and I knowingly manipulate her out of her money, then she’s the bad guy, because teenage girls are dumb and they should feel bad for ever liking anything, forming identities, feeling attraction, or basically being uncool and childish in any way.

It is definitely a good idea to remember that transactions are a part of how art is usually consumed, and not to express your affection or deep identification with an art/artist by spending lots of money on tee shirts that depict them. However, even this type of interaction can be encouraged in a healthy, positive way.  Patreon seems to really make people mad, but it’s not the worst system for artists who Live in A Society and don’t happen to have any lembas laying around. “I’ll pretend to love you so you can make me a millionaire” seems kinda gross but “I appreciate that your support helps me continue making the art you love” kinda sorta does not.

Some people go too far and commit heinous crimes because they expect their parasocial affections to be reciprocated.

Those crimes would be heinous even in an already reciprocal relationship. (I  already mentioned this, but if I committed terrorism for my very real girlfriend who knows exactly who I am, that would probably make me no better or worse than Hinkley.)

You’re an isolated loser and need real friends.

Okay. Anybody pouring all their energy into one relationship is probably not doing life correctly, regardless of how parasocial that relationship is. But this is a point on which I simply do not agree. People engage in these behaviors regardless of how wide their friend circle is. If not with celebrities, then with fictional characters, or even historical or political figures (think more “little father” than “senator” though what you do with that Bernie Sanders picture in your room is between you and God). Oh speaking of God, relationships with religious figures might arguably have some similarities and speak to the same human tendency, but there is of course the difference that Justin Bieber doesn’t know who TF you are, but God does.

Uh, sorry, you didn’t address my point. Forming parasocial relationships stops you developing real relationships.

I actually think it encourages reciprocal socialization. I didn’t have many friends growing up. When I met two other kids who were obsessed with Harry Potter, we bonded over that, making up our own characters (next generation type of BS...still better than the book 7 epilogue), and this formed the basis of a friendship that lasted basically my entire pubescence. These parasocial relationships are generally part of a broader interest, and interests and hobbies help you meet people, break the ice, and uhm...form real relationships.

It’s not just interests, though. I was hardcore into dinosaurs as a kid. Literally every child likes dinosaurs, but that didn’t help me form any new friendships. The other reason I think parasocial relationships lead to better real relationships is...practice. You are engaging in social behaviors, whether or not you’re any good at them, whether or not you succeed. This is what’s required to learn any new skill, but it’s generally discouraged.

You don’t just learn about how to socialize, you also learn about yourself. You develop a sense of identity and learn what you like and dislike by associating yourself with favorite characters.

Children and teens often imitate their behaviors, and though that can be a bit annoying (why yes I do have the Spanish Inquisition sketch memorized but thanks for repeating it to make sure I got it), it also helps them figure out what kind of people they want to be (maybe you want to be funny, so you over time learn that what made Monty Python so funny was surprise, surprise and fear, and you develop comedic timing). Knowing what kind of person you want to be is important.

Right, but it’s selfish. You keep calling it “one sided” which it literally is. There’s no checks on your behavior.

Right. I think that’s good, though? I think it’s good for people to sometimes do selfish things. I think it’s good to cultivate parasocial relationships because they are a way to self-soothe, and get your own needs met, without burdening others. We are social creatures, and we absolutely need relationships, but nobody owes you a relationship. Nobody owes you affection or love. Having a way to cultivate that for yourself is actually incredibly valuable.

It’s worth commenting here that I think my strongest parasocial relationships are probably with characters I’ve made up myself. They are “a part of me” in that they are always there in my life, but unlike some writers, I do not base characters on myself or see them as reflecting specific parts of me. I relate to them in the same way I relate to Harry Potter, except that I was the one who made them up initially, and books I write about them can be published and I can make money off them. (On some theoretical plane of existence.) It’s pretty clear that I am the one doing all the work on both sides of this particular parasocial relationship, but it doesn’t feel super different to me than the fact I very intensely relate to certain characters not made up by me. I don’t conceive myself dating one of them, like I don’t have a Dorothy L. Sayers thing going on, but I don’t really think it would be wrong if I did.

What do you mean not being a burden on others? What about toxic fans putting pressure on creators?

Yeah...that’ll be in the “unhealthy relationship” category. But, okay, I guess where I am ending up here is I do think it’s good to recognize parasocial relationships exist and talk about them, because it reminds you that even if a relationship is not reciprocal, you do have responsibilities. If the other person is real, that means they are only human, and even if you have no choice but to stan, you should give them some breathing space. The Shinji Ikari ContraPoints in my head can be my super close friend, but if I expect the real Natalie Wynn to give me any more energy than she already does to her entire audience by making the awesome videos I enjoy so much, I’d be really rude, demanding, and honestly not worthy of her friendship if it was “real.”

Parasocial relationships are relationships which means, just like with reciprocal ones, you have to not be a dick. You have to respect the other person and recognize they are a human being separate from you. Even with characters, Harry Potter can’t be hurt by anything weird and demanding you do, but Rowling could, and so could other HP fans, so respect is still important. If it’s not already clear, I strongly disagree with people who suggest fanfiction is disrespectful, so.

If you understand that your relationship is abstracted, and that you do not deserve any kind of reward for all the energy and love that you pour into it...then enjoy your parasocial relationship, because it is absolutely normative, human, and can bring great joy and meaning into your life. In fact, almost all of what I just said applies to reciprocal relationships, too.

[ua-monoma]

.01.26.

1:45pm @ua-stein

[Monoma knocks on the door of Stein’s office, a good fifteen minutes before their scheduled time. He's also dressed nicely, perhaps a little too nicely considering the occasion. As he waits, he frowns to himself, fiddling with his hair before finally calling out.] 

MONOMA: It's Monoma...

[So early. Trying to prove a point, Stein muses, smiling to himself. He's trying, definitely, but it only succeeds in showing that he's just as childish as ever. He considers not answering until the 15 minutes have passed. Making him wait. Cruel, but sort of deserved. He only waits 5. After that he stands, making his way to the door and opening it, leaning heavily on the frame.] 

STEIN: Nothing else to do today? 

[The question is sort of rhetorical, sort of annoyed.] 

STEIN: Come in. 

[He steps away, back to his desk.]

[Monoma scowls at the attitude and again at the question, immediately frustrated again. Entering the room, his bad mood settles slightly as he takes it all in, curiosity popping up in its place. Eventually he sits, pursing his lips, at a loss for words as he recalls their last conversation and the utter disaster it was.]

MONOMA: ... So... [he finally starts.] What is this about exactly...?

STEIN: You. [He says with a shrug.] Do you know what I do here?

MONOMA: ... Not exactly, but I'm sure you're about to enlighten me...

[Stein gives an insincere smile.] 

STEIN: I'm the Director of Research here. In other words, I pass through everything people want to test and explore. I also do quite a bit on my own. I was one of the leading scientists when we discovered the League's noumu lab, and I've helped in a lot of studies about how quirks work inside the human body and how to effectively implant or explant them.

[Monoma nods slowly, not really understanding at first, but when the noumu lab is mentioned he goes pale and stricken, hardly even able to draw breath. His heart pulses in his chest, itching and wrong, before he finally is able to muster another nod.] 

MONOMA: ... Ah... I see...

[The smile grows more sinister, watching Monoma process everything, until it falls completely, just quick enough that he wouldn't notice.]

STEIN: Do you know why you're here?

MONOMA: ...

[He nods, just slightly. He wants to leave.] 

MONOMA: ...

STEIN: Tell me what happened. 

[He slides a small device forward, slowly blinking red.] 

STEIN: And keep in mind that this is all being recorded.

MONOMA: ... I... 

[He stares at the device, the horror on his face that much more clear.] 

MONOMA: ... don't really know where to start...

STEIN: Usually you start at the beginning.

MONOMA: ... 

[He tears his eyes away from the device, staring at his hands now as he picks at his fingers.] 

MONOMA: It was... an alternate's doing. He was obsessed with helping me become something... other... than I was... 

[His eyes flicker up to Stein then back down again fast.] 

MONOMA: ...

MONOMA: He had a theory that there were 'loopholes' in my quirk that would allow him to create a sentient noumu...like thing. Or. Something like that. Something... new. 

[He fights a shiver as the words he remembers Deku saying as he'd laid back barely coscious leaves his mouth.] 

MONOMA: It was, um... the very end of September, when it started...

[Stein listens carefully, despite his disinterested demeanor. It's interesting. Loopholes in his quirk, he gets stuck on that, eyes flicking to him and looking him over, looking for anything wrong with him, like you might see in a noumu. Loopholes. A quirk copying quirk, obviously there's something that could be tweaked, made so those quirks stay forever, is that was he wanted? Or just some of them, by choice. Either would be interesting.]

STEIN: So what did he do?

MONOMA: ...

[He opens his mouth to answer the question but, for a second, his voice gets caught in his throat. His heart races that much faster, a cold sweat just starting to dot his brow. He's never had to actually voice it before, and the sheer concept of bringing it to words...]

MONOMA: ... The... experiment... [God.] ... involved... replacing parts of myself with a... with a noumu's. 

[He swallows. God. He might vomit if this keeps up.] 

MONOMA: My quirk... utilizes DNA, in a way, s...so...

[Interesting.]

STEIN: So you have pieces of DNA from other things constantly in you, granting you access to those quirks at any time. [He finishes, leaning back in his chair.] Which, effectively, renders you part... noumu.

MONOMA: ... 

[He continues picking at his nails with slightly more vigor now.] 

MONOMA: ... I suppose, in a way...

STEIN: In a way. [He echoes, a slight amusement coming to his tone.] ... You've left me with a lot of questions, Monoma.. a lot of questions... 

[He sighs, leaning his head back briefly, moving his hands above his head while he thinks.] 

STEIN: What did he replace? What quirks are at your disposal? Was he finished, or was there more he was going to do-who is He in the first place?

MONOMA: Midoriya Izuku. 

[He picks harder.] 

MONOMA: He never attempted to try again afterwards, he was always more focused on... training, I think. Or me fulfilling some purpose. 

MONOMA: [He picks harder.] 

MONOMA: There were transfusions. Blood, bone marrow, some sort of...

[He bites his lip, practically hearing the violent buzz of a drill grinding against his head.] 

MONOMA: And my... heart. Was removed and replaced.

MONOMA: ... 

[He stares unseeingly down on his fingers.] 

MONOMA: I've never tried to use those quirks, I don't know. I'm aware of some sort of r.. regenerative ability, I wouldn't have survived it if it weren't for that, but...

[His breath is stolen when Monoma mentions his heart. The whole thing, removed and replaced, to keep someone elses quirk inside of him forever. Stein  wonders whose it is. What it does. What's so important that it has to be the heart. He wants to see it with his own two eyes.]

STEIN: ... A lot of untapped potential there. [He mumbles, giving him another once over.] If you register your quirks you can use them in hero training. For good.

[Monoma’s eyes widen and snap towards Stein.] 

MONOMA: ... What...

[A thousand reasons why he can't surge up. He can't have the world knowing he's a freak. Nobody fucking has multiple quirks, everyone would treat him like a monster, and he is one, he is one but he doesn't want people to know-]

MONOMA: ...

[Stein shrugs, nonchalant at the violent reaction he gets from Monoma.] 

STEIN: Turn the bad into something good. Someone's gonna find out eventually, and if you don't just put it out there they're gonna use it against you. Either make it your own or screw yourself in 10 years when you have someone that really wants to see you crash and burn. Also, [he picks up the file with his blood tests,] these all say clear as day that you're basically a noumu, and any doctor can take your blood and look. Better for everyone if you just admit it.

MONOMA: ...

[Shellshocked, he stares at the files in his hands. What he's saying makes sense, obviously. Obviously that's the only option, the best option, of course this could be spun in his favor and who cares about the press and the judgement when he'd clearly be one of the most powerful heroes out there.

... It's all what he wishes he could make himself believe. Maybe in another life, another world, another universe, he can. All the terror weighs him down, though.]

MONOMA: ... 

[He nods slowly.] 

MONOMA: Okay...

STEIN: Choose whatever though. 

[He shrugs, setting the files down.] 

STEIN: Oh. Another thing. Do you know what makes a noumu really.. a noumu? Other than being stupid and having too many quirks.

MONOMA: ... We weren't exactly taught about noumu in school... 

[He frowns.] 

MONOMA: Though I have a few guesses...

STEIN: Really? 

[He hums.] 

STEIN: Guess I'll have to rectify that. Anyway. One of the key things we've found in noumu over the years is heightened loyalty. 

[Another smile crosses his face.] 

STEIN: Although, based on the alterations and the methods that were used, I doubt that's something that happened with you. We've also tracked a lot of memory loss in noumu, brainwashing, things like that. I think some just have so much that they can't handle it all and get rid of every thought they have that isn't given to them. They were all human once, you know. Individuals. There's a lot in the brain, it'd be difficult to handle that times two, let alone four or five or ten or.. whatever.

MONOMA: ... [His expression hardens at the thought.] 

MONOMA: I wasn't brainwashed... 

[He frowns.] 

MONOMA: You say you doubt it but why bring it up if it weren't all that relevant to the conversation? Unless you wanted to insinuate something...?

STEIN: I doubt it, but it's still possible. 

[He shrugs.] 

STEIN: Although you seem like a terrible liar, so I'm not super worried.

[He clicks his tongue, anger flaring in him again.] 

MONOMA: ...

STEIN: It's a good thing. 

[He sits back, swiveling from side to side in his chair.]

MONOMA: Mm. 

[He watches the swiveling, seething a little. Calling him immature when he has such a childish habit of his own...]

MONOMA: ... May I ask what your plan at this point is? I assume, as the Director of Research, there are... studies... you'd wish to undergo. Or, at the very least, some sort of path you'd like to take concerning all of... this.

STEIN: I was just going to talk about that. 

[He grins, straightening out.] 

STEIN: That's exactly what I'd like to do. I want to do more tests, physical and psychological, and I'd like to keep track of you and have you check in monthly at the very least. And maybe while you're here you'll learn a thing or two.

[Tests... Monoma fights a grimace. More experiments, then. And if being poked and prodded at wasn't bad enough, they'd be attempting to dissect his mind as well.]

MONOMA: ... Alright... [he agrees reluctantly.] But do I get to know of these tests beforehand? And am I allowed to refuse them...?

STEIN: Of course. 

[Stein opens a drawer and takes a packet of papers out from his desk, outlining Monoma's rights as a patient as well as the Commissions' rights, with places to sign at the bottom of every page.] 

STEIN: This is all the legal stuff you need to sign off on. It'll detail that I can't surprise you with anything and you can refuse anything. Because of the nature of this and what might happen, I'll also need your guardian to sign these. 

[He flips a few pages and points to the last few with two spots for signatures.]

MONOMA: I see... 

[Taking the packet, Monoma skims a few lines, though it's a legal jargon he's not in the mood to force himself to understand. He'll have time to read it through later, he assumes... He fights a grimace again, imagining the conversation with his grandfather he'll have to have about this.]

MONOMA: Alright... So I'll just bring this to you later, then...

STEIN: Yes. You can bring it to me at school, if you'd like. 

[He nods, swaying side to side in his chair.] 

STEIN: It's not too complicated.

[He glances up to watch him swaying again, skeptical.] 

MONOMA: Alright... Is there anything else...

STEIN: No. Unless you have any questions.

MONOMA: ... 

[He glances through the papers some more.] 

MONOMA: ... You mentioned quirk implantation... May I ask about that or is that confidential...?

STEIN: You can try. 

[He shrugs.]

MONOMA: ... Has it been done successfully? Explanting a quirk and placing it in someone else.

STEIN: We think so.

[Monoma nods slowly.] 

MONOMA: And you used the noumu to do that...?

STEIN: Yes. 

[He gives a knowing smile, and then glances at the clock.]

[Monoma follows his glance with a frown.] 

MONOMA: ... It just makes me curious. Perfecting that kind of technology, it offers a lot of opportunities to dominate the hero system as we know it. Robbing villains of their power, strengthening heroes, controlling them...

[... He sighs and then waves the thought away, starting to get to his feet.] 

MONOMA: It's fine, I know me wondering about it doesn't warrant an honest conversation. Regardless, I'd be honored to help in any sort of research on that matter. I'll try and get these to you as soon as possible...

STEIN: If you agree to all of this and start coming regularly you might end up hearing about it anyway. It's ongoing classified research that you'll be a part of, which is why you'll find a non-disclosure agreement near the back. That's pretty broad though, generally we'll also give you one for specific exams or procedures if needed.

[Monoma nods some more.] 

MONOMA: That makes sense... Glad to hear it.

STEIN: Yep. Anything else?

MONOMA: No... I assume I can contact you if I have any thoughts or questions...

STEIN: Of course.

[Monoma gives a short bow.] 

MONOMA: Then that will be all... Thank you for this.

STEIN: Thank you.

[With one last nod, Monoma shows himself out quietly.]

[yasbxxgie]

Now that the cast is coming together, Denis Villeneuve’s upcoming adaptation of Dune is getting more attention than ever. And with that attention an interesting question has started cropping up with more frequency, one that bears further examination: Is Dune a “white savior” narrative?

It’s important to note that this is not a new question. Dune has been around for over half a century, and with every adaptation or popular revival, fans and critics take the time to interrogate how it plays into (or rebels against) certain story tropes and popular concepts, the white savior complex being central among them. While there are no blunt answers to that question—in part because Dune rests on a foundation of intense and layered worldbuilding—it is still an important one to engage and reengage with for one simple reason: All works of art, especially ones that we hold in high esteem, should be so carefully considered. Not because we need to tear them down or, conversely, enshrine them, but because we should all want to be more knowledgeable and thoughtful about how the stories we love contribute to our world, and the ways in which they choose to reflect it.

So what happens when we put Dune under this methodical scrutiny? If we peel back the layers, like the Mentats of [Frank] Herbert’s story, what do we find?

Hollywood has a penchant for the white savior trope, and it forms the basis for plenty of big-earning, award-winning films. Looking back on blockbusters like The Last of the Mohicans, Avatar, and The Last Samurai, the list piles up for movies in which a white person can alleviate the suffering of people of color—sometimes disguised as blue aliens for the purpose of sci-fi trappings—by being specially “chosen” somehow to aid in their struggles. Sometimes this story is more personal, between only two or three characters, often rather dubiously labeled as “based on a true story” (The Blind Side, The Help, Dangerous Minds, The Soloist, and recent Academy Award Best Picture-winner Green Book are all a far cry from the true events that inspired them). It’s the same song, regardless—a white person is capable of doing what others cannot, from overcoming racial taboos and inherited prejudices up to and including “saving” an entire race of people from certain doom.

At face value, it’s easy to slot Dune into this category: a pale-skinned protagonist comes to a planet of desert people known as Fremen. These Fremen are known to the rest the rest of the galaxy as a mysterious, barbaric, and highly superstitious people, whose ability to survive on the brutal world of Arrakis provides a source of endless puzzlement for outsiders. The Fremen themselves are a futuristic amalgam of various POC cultures according to Herbert, primarily the Blackfeet Tribe of Montana, the San people, and Bedouins. (Pointedly, all of these cultures have been and continue to be affected by imperialism, colonialism, and slavery, and the Fremen are no different—having suffered horrifically at the hands of the Harkonnens even well before our “heroes” arrive.) Once the protagonist begins to live among the Fremen, he quickly establishes himself as their de facto leader and savior, teaching them how to fight more efficiently and building them into an unstoppable army. This army then throws off the tyranny of the galaxy’s Emperor, cementing the protagonist’s role as their literal messiah.

That sounds pretty cut and dried, no?

But at the heart of this question—Is Dune a white savior narrative?—are many more questions, because Dune is a complicated story that encompasses and connects various concepts, touching on environmentalism, imperialism, history, war, and the superhero complex. The fictional universe of Dune is carefully constructed to examine these issues of power, who benefits from having it, and how they use it. Of course, that doesn’t mean the story is unassailable in its construction or execution, which brings us to the first clarifying question: What qualifies as a white savior narrative? How do we measure that story, or identify it? Many people would define this trope differently, which is reasonable, but you cannot examine how Dune might contribute to a specific narrative without parsing out the ways in which it does and does not fit.

This is the strongest argument against the assertion that Dune is a white savior story: Paul Atreides is not a savior. What he achieves isn’t great or even good—which is vital to the story that Frank Herbert meant to tell.

There are many factors contributing to Paul Atreides’s transformation into Muad’Dib and the Kwisatz Haderach, but from the beginning, Paul thinks of the role he is meant to play as his “terrible purpose.” He thinks that because he knows if he avenges his father, if he becomes the Kwisatz Haderach and sees the flow of time, if he becomes the Mahdi of the Fremen and leads them, the upcoming war will not stop on Arrakis. It will extend and completely reshape the known universe. His actions precipitate a war that that lasts for twelve years, killing millions of people, and that’s only just the beginning.

Can it be argued that Paul Atreides helps the people of Arrakis? Taking the long view of history, the answer would be a resounding no—and the long view of history is precisely what the Dune series works so hard to convey. (The first three books all take place over a relatively condensed period, but the last three books of the initial Dune series jump forward thousands of years at a time.) While Paul does help the Fremen achieve the dream of making Arrakis a green and vibrant world, they become entirely subservient to his cause and their way of life is fundamentally altered. Eventually, the Fremen practically disappear, and a new Imperial army takes their place for Paul’s son, Leto II, the God Emperor. Leto’s journey puts the universe on what he calls the “Golden Path,” the only possible future where humanity does not go extinct. It takes this plan millennia to come to fruition, and though Leto succeeds, it doesn’t stop humans from scheming and murdering and hurting one another; it merely ensures the future of the species.

One could make an argument that the Atreides family is responsible for the saving of all human life due to the Golden Path and its execution. But in terms of Paul’s position on Arrakis, his effect on the Fremen population there, and the amount of death, war, and terror required to bring about humanity’s “salvation,” the Atreides are monstrous people. There is no way around that conclusion—and that’s because the story is designed to critique humanity’s propensity toward saviors. Here’s a quote from Frank Herbert himself on that point:

I am showing you the superhero syndrome and your own participation in it.

And another:

Dune was aimed at this whole idea of the infallible leader because my view of history says that mistakes made by a leader (or made in a leader’s name) are amplified by the numbers who follow without question.

At the center of Dune is a warning to be mistrustful of messiahs, supermen, and leaders who have the ability to sway masses. This is part of the reason why David Lynch’s Dune film missed the mark; the instant that Paul Atreides becomes a veritable god, the whole message of the story is lost. The ending of Frank Herbert’s Dune is not a heroic triumph—it is a giant question mark pointed at the reader or viewer. It is an uncomfortable conclusion that only invites more questions, which is a key part of its lasting appeal.

And yet…

There is a sizable hole in the construction of this book that can outweigh all other interpretations and firmly situate Dune among white savior tropes: Paul Atreides is depicted as a white man, and his followers are largely depicted as brown people.

There are ways to nitpick this idea, and people do—Paul’s father, Leto Atreides might not be white, and is described in the book as having “olive” toned skin. We get a sense of traditions from the past, as Leto’s father was killed in a bull fight, dressed in a matador cape, but it’s unclear if this is tied to their heritage in any sense. The upcoming film has cast Cuban-Guatemalan actor Oscar Isaac in the role of Duke Leto, but previous portrayals featured white men with European ancestry: U.S. actor William Hurt and German actor Jürgen Prochnow. (The Fremen characters are also often played by white actors, but that’s a more simple case of Hollywood whitewashing.) While the name Atreides is Greek, Dune takes place tens of thousands of years in the future, so there’s really no telling what ancestry the Atreides line might have, or even what “whiteness” means to humanity anymore. There’s a lot of similar melding elsewhere in the story; the ruler of this universe is known as the “Padishah Emperor” (Padishah is a Persian word that essentially translates to “great king”), but the family name of the Emperor’s house is Corrino, taken from the fictional Battle of Corrin. Emperor Shaddam has red hair, and his daughter Irulan is described as blond-haired, green-eyed, and possessing “patrician beauty,” a mishmash of words and descriptions that deliberately avoid categorization.

None of these factors detract from the fact that we are reading/watching this story in present day, when whiteness is a key component of identity and privilege. It also doesn’t negate the fact that Paul is always depicted as a white young man, and has only been played by white actors: first by Kyle MacLachlan, then by Alec Newman, and soon by Timothy Chalamet. There are many reasons for casting Paul this way, chief among them being that he is partly based on a real-life figure—T.E. Lawrence, better known to the public as “Lawrence of Arabia.” But regardless of that influence, Frank Herbert’s worldbuilding demands a closer look in order to contextualize a narrative in which a white person becomes the messiah of an entire population of people of color—after all, T.E. Lawrence was never heralded as any sort of holy figure by the people he worked alongside during the Arab Revolt.

The decision to have Paul become the Mahdi of the Fremen people is not a breezy or inconsequential plot point, and Herbert makes it clear that his arrival has been seeded by the Bene Gesserit, the shadowy matriarchal organization to which his mother, Jessica, belongs. In order to keep their operatives safe throughout the universe, the Bene Gesserit planted legends and mythologies that applied to their cohort, making it easy for them to manipulate local legends to their advantage in order to remain secure and powerful. While this handily serves to support Dune’s thematic indictment of the damage created by prophecy and religious zealotry, it still positions the Fremen as a people who easily fall prey to superstition and false idols. The entire Fremen culture (though meticulously constructed and full of excellent characters) falls into various “noble savage” stereotypes due to the narrative’s juxtaposition of their militant austerity with their susceptibility to being used by powerful people who understand their mythology well enough to exploit it. What’s more, Herbert reserves many of the non-Western philosophies that he finds particularly attractive—he was a convert to Zen Buddhism, and the Bene Gesserit are attuned to the Eastern concepts of “prana” and “bindu” as part of their physical training—for mastery by white characters like Lady Jessica.

While Fremen culture has Arab influences in its language and elsewhere, the book focuses primarily on the ferocity of their people and the discipline they require in order to be able to survive the brutal desert of Arrakis, as well as their relationship to the all-important sandworms. This speaks to Herbert’s ecological interests in writing Dune far more than his desire to imagine what an Arab-descended society or culture might look like in the far future. Even the impetus toward terraforming Arrakis into a green world is one brought about through imperialist input; Dr. Liet Kynes (father to Paul’s companion Chani) promoted the idea in his time as leader of the Fremen, after his own father, an Imperial ecologist, figured out how to change the planet. The Fremen don’t have either the ability or inclination to transform their world with their own knowledge—both are brought to them from a colonizing source.

Dune’s worldbuilding is complex, but that doesn’t make it beyond reproach. Personal bias is a difficult thing to avoid, and how you construct a universe from scratch says a lot about how you personally view the world. Author and editor Mimi Mondal breaks this concept down beautifully in her recent article about the inherently political nature of worldbuilding:

In a world where all fundamental laws can be rewritten, it is also illuminating which of them aren’t. The author’s priorities are more openly on display when a culture of non-humans is still patriarchal, there are no queer people in a far-future society, or in an alternate universe the heroes and saviours are still white. Is the villain in the story a repulsively depicted fat person? Is a disabled or disfigured character the monster? Are darker-skinned, non-Western characters either absent or irrelevant, or worse, portrayed with condescension? It’s not sufficient to say that these stereotypes still exist in the real world. In a speculative world, where it is possible to rewrite them, leaving them unchanged is also political.

The world of Dune was built that way through a myriad of choices, and choices are not neutral exercises. They require biases, thoughtfulness, and intent. They are often built from a single perspective, and perspectives are never absolute. And so, in analyzing Dune, it is impossible not to wonder about the perspective of its creator and why he built his fictional universe the way he did.

Many fans cite the fact that Frank Herbert wrote Dune over fifty years ago as an explanation for some of its more dated attitudes toward race, gender, queerness, and other aspects of identity. But the universe that Herbert created was arguably already quite dated when he wrote Dune. There’s an old-world throwback sheen to the story, as it’s built on feudal systems and warring family houses and political marriages and ruling men with concubines. The Bene Gesserit essentially sell their (all-female) trainees to powerful figures to further their own goals, and their sexuality is a huge component of their power. The odious Baron Harkonnen is obese and the only visibly queer character in the book (a fact that I’ve already addressed at length as it pertains to the upcoming film). Paul Atreides is the product of a Bene Gesserit breeding program that was created to bring about the Kwisatz Haderach—he’s literally a eugenics experiment that works.

And in this eugenics experiment, the “perfect” human turns out to be a white man—and he was always going to be a man, according to their program—who proceeds to wield his awesome power by creating a personal army made up of people of color. People, that is, who believe that he is their messiah due to legends planted on their world ages ago by the very same group who sought to create this superbeing. And Paul succeeds in his goals and is crowned Emperor of the known universe. Is that a white savior narrative? Maybe not in the traditional sense, but it has many of the same discomfiting hallmarks that we see replicated again and again in so many familiar stories. Hopefully, we’re getting better at recognizing and questioning these patterns, and the assumptions and agendas propagated through them. It gives us a greater understanding of fiction’s power, and makes for an enlightening journey.

Dune is a great work of science fiction with many pointed lessons that we can still apply to the world we live in—that’s the mark of a excellent book. But we can enjoy the world that Frank Herbert created and still understand the places where it falls down. It makes us better fans and better readers, and allows us to more fully appreciate the stories we love.

+Dune’s Paul Atreides Is the Ultimate Mighty Whitey

[wayneooverton]

That one time I crashed a scooter in Bali

A week ago I found myself upside down in a ditch full of wet cement in Canggu, Bali.

In that moment, only one thought crossed my mind: why me? Why is it always me?

A veritable magnet for disasters, especially while traveling, for some unknown reason misadventure and misfortune often follow me on my travels and remains a constant presence in my life, like a problem zit or an annoying cousin.

Sigh, where do I even begin?

I know, watch this video below. Like right now. Let’s start there.

  View this post on Instagram

  Scootering in Bali is easy, they said…😳 (wait for it) @georgiarickard @laurenepbath

A post shared by Liz Carlson☀️Young Adventuress (@youngadventuress) on Feb 24, 2019 at 5:08pm PST

A little over a week ago I flew to Bali with my business partners, Lauren Bath and Georgia Rickard, from the Travel Bootcamp for a week of work, smoothie bowls and deeply uncomfortable humidity.

Being based in Australia (them) and New Zealand (me), Bali is a fabulous and super affordable place for us to meet and work; I constantly am asking myself what the hell am I doing living in Wanaka paying $5 for avocados when I could be living on the beach in Bali for a quarter of the price drinking 20 cent coconuts.

But I digress.

We stayed in a rather ridiculous fancy villa in Canggu (aka the town that Instagram built) which was not much more than rice paddies next to a surf beach on my last visit to Bali. Now it’s a thriving hub of millennial cafes, trendy co-working spaces, and lots and lots of people on scooters.

I didn’t want to like it but I loved it.

It’s like Canggu grew into a place for people like me, a hub for solo digital nomads looking for a place with a cool vibe to just hang out, work, create and relax.

Luxury 3 bedroom villa in Canggu in Airbnb – use this link for $50 of credit

  The first day I woke up and walked 15 minutes to town to a cafe for brekkie and a coffee, and by the time I arrived, I was pouring with sweat and so uncomfortable. Since it’s the monsoon season now, the humidity is less than ideal.

And it seemed to me like I was the only one walking, in my mind EVERYONE in Canggu was on a scooter or motorbike. Heaps of blond young backpackers, locals, even entire families were piled on this scooters whizzing around town. Even the dogs ride on the motorbikes.

Fuck walking and fuck this heat, I was gonna get a scooter. If they all could do it, so could I. How hard could it be?

Famous. Last. Words.

In an absolutely incredibly fit of irony, I had also just renewed my annual travel insurance policy with Southern Cross Travel Insurance (SCTI) here in New Zealand, and I was about to embark on a project sharing my work with them online and social media, mostly about traveling safely as a solo female traveler.

Being a magnet for destruction ever since my camel days in Jordan, for me it’s not a question of if but when next something will go wrong, and I learned early on in my travel career that travel insurance is worth it, even when I was broke. Also now that I do more adventurous trips to places like Kyrgyzstan or Antarctica, it’s often mandatory, so for the past few years I just buy annual insurance policies that cover me around the world.

AND YOU SHALL SEE WHY SHORTLY.

After sweatily walking my way back to the villa on a massive caffeine high and convinced that I was going to be the most amazing scooter driver in Canggu, I immediately perused heaps of travel blogs and guides for advice on scooter hires in Bali, and Georgia organized one for us asap.

You’re looking to pay between $2-$4 per day for a scooter hire in Bali, unless you’re completely swindled like we were and you’ll pay over $5 per day (still a total bargain). It was definitely recommended in all the blogs I read to wear long pants, closed-toed shoes and to get some practice, have an international driver’s license and insurance. And of course wear a helmet. Easy.

This might be my funniest story of all time

We got this. We are strong independent women with heaps of travel experience in places like Bali and very confident in our abilities to succeed at anything we put our minds to, i.e. not walking anywhere in Canggu.

But here is where I make the same travel mistake I find myself repeating again and again throughout my life. I read, prepare and acknowledge what I need to do. And then I do the complete opposite.

Why, Liz, WHY?! You should know better by now! Also, Liz, you do not have a good track record about not falling off of things, like bikes, horses and camels. You are not going to be naturally good at riding a scooter in a land of chaotic driving. But do I listen to that voice in the back of my head? Nope.

As Georgia and I announced that we were off picking up our scooters, Lauren, being the ever responsible one of our trio, looked at us, said something to the effect of we are total idiots and stayed in the villa. Her loss!

As I walked to pick up our scooters in cool confidence, wearing sandals and my short onesie (I’m sorry but it’s too hot to wear pants in Bali), I think the only thing I did right was have insurance, license and wear a helmet.

Getting Naked in Istanbul

All my plans of getting a lesson in a parking lot went out the window when were faced with a very casual “here you go, take it or leave it” attitude at the literal back alley scooter rental place. It wasn’t even a shop, it was a guy with a sign and a few scooters in an alley. Oh well, it’s Bali, just go with it!

Liz, don’t! Use your brain! You are 30! You know better than this.

Georgia and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, popped on our helmets and hopped on our new rides. Very slowly (with everyone watching and commenting) we slowly made the short journey back to our villa, where I only almost crashed once making a right turn – they drive on the left in Bali.

Well, it’s suggested to drive on the left. The reality (from my experience) is you do whatever the fuck you want.

Driving in Bali is different. It’s organized chaos.

Everyone drives batshit crazy and it sort of all works, until it doesn’t work. For for someone who confuses the gas with the brakes with alarming regularity, I really should have had a lesson before entering the Hunger Games: SE Asia Edition.

You beep the horn all the time to let people know you’re there; you beep when you’re passing and when you’re pulling out onto a main road. And you especially beep when you’re heckling Lauren Bath for refusing to ride on the scooters with us as we speed past her on the way home. Beep. Beep. Beeeeep.

I would describe the obstacles as something out of Mario Kart. The roads go where they want, often with scary ditches next to them (I now have a completely rational terror of ditches, having ended up in one), deep rice paddies that can easily consume a scooter (and regularly do – just Google the Canggu Shortcut), chickens, three-legged dogs, humans, monkey gangs, other scooters, other dumb tourists on scooters, trucks, rubbish, you name it, it’s everywhere.

Pay attention, beep beep!

Phew we made it home in one piece! A few hours later we headed out again, and this time is where I totally screwed it up.

Even though I talked myself through the whole process again, I managed to make the classic tourist mistake of trying to brake and accidentally yanking the gas and then slamming on the brakes, catapulting myself over the handlebars headfirst into a ditch. At least I assume that’s what happened. Luckily there were no witnesses, and I can’t really remember – yikes!

My thoughts after the initial “why me” and “am I dead?” were OMFG I’m in an open sewer. I’m in poop! I crashed into poop! WHY ME GOD WHY ME?! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO DESERVE THIS?

A quick sniff confirmed that it was not in fact in open sewer, rather it was thick mud-like cement. I tried to move, and couldn’t. OMG I’m paralyzed. Oh wait, I’m just quite literally stuck in the cement.

“Georgia, help!!!!” I hollered, wiggling trying to lift my cement-laden helmet head, before I just started to laugh. I was completely glued to the cement.

Hearing my giggles, I hear Georgia calling to me as she walked back to my empty scooter. Where is Liz?

All of a sudden I see her peering over the side of the ditch looking at me and videoing the whole thing on her phone laughing hysterically! With my legs in the air, my undies on full display and my head stuck in cement, I can only just imagine what a sight I was to behold.

Screaming at her that this video will never see the light of day, I start yelling for Lauren, who eventually comes out with a towel and they manage to drag me out, lovingly I might add.

I knew I would never, ever live this down.

Faced with the inevitable shame that there was no way this incident was going to stay secret, I chose to embrace my misfortune and share it with the world.

Eventually I came to my senses, and while the video does not demonstrate any of my grace and courage (which I know I have deep down) I couldn’t help but share it. Once I got over the shock of it all, it’s actually really hilarious. I can’t stop watching it, it makes me laugh so much.

And yes I know, I know how lucky I am. You don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve heard enough scooter horror stories and seen enough tourists with leg bandages in SE Asia to know I was a complete idiot and it could have been so much worse. I was really lucky to escape with just a few scrapes, bruises, and one ruined top.

In the words of Georgia, I’ve never been more “on brand,” LOL.

However, once I showered and changed, I got back on the scooter and practiced until I was a lot better. Not sure what that says about me, but I knew if I didn’t try again straight away, I’d never go near a scooter again, and let me tell you, driving scooters is super fun! I wonder how hard I hit my head? Nevermind.

Braaaaap!

Make of this story what you will , and let my video be a warning to you. Scooter driving is fun but dangerous. Don’t be like me and think you can just teach yourself. Always wear a helmet, and for god’s sake buy travel insurance that covers things like scooters.

What about you? Have you driven a scooter in SE Asia? Would you? Any stories to share?

And one more time for good measure:

  View this post on Instagram

  Scootering in Bali is easy, they said…😳 (wait for it) @georgiarickard @laurenepbath

A post shared by Liz Carlson☀️Young Adventuress (@youngadventuress) on Feb 24, 2019 at 5:08pm PST

Images by Lauren Bath, videos by Georgia Rickard

The post That one time I crashed a scooter in Bali appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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