#yet it's also the excitement and pleasure of truly being myself that somehow enables me to be a lot more productive
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after spending far too long crying about how my family doesn't accept me for it (which isn't quite fair, they don't know how important it is to me because I didn't tell them) I've decided that this is a big real part of me and may well be part of my calling, my identity etc given how close to my heart it is
I want to provide homes and I want to create communities. I want to care for people in said communities and have them do the same for me. I don't want to just pay it lip service. I've worked my entire life to figure out how to do this well: environmentally sustainable urban design, trauma-informed interactions, centring diversity including disability, the value of authenticity in connection, unlearning amatonormativity and cishetnormativity and the nuclear family and instead brainstorming based around what works best for each individual and us as a collective group.
personally, I don't give a fuck if people think I want to help people who don't deserve it. if I can manage it and it makes me happy that's better than just about anything else. if they care about me they'll listen when I say that I don't enjoy what are supposed to be pleasures when I feel like they're distracting me from connecting with people the way that I want to. but I also have to be realistic: I can barely take care of myself now, I can't be a saviour, but I can be a catalyst toward something magical. I can't do it alone, but how can I find people who want to do it with me if no one knows how central this is to who i am?
#i'm aware of the risk of talking and not doing shit#i'm also feeling the disabled rn? won't be always#but i just feel invalidated all the time and i get so angry and sad and anxious to interact with everyone it's exhausting#so there's not all that much i can do#but what i can prioritise is taking the first step. and it has to be little but i'm gonna celebrate the hell out of it#and if i don't get what i want then at least i know i tried all i could#and set myself up for the next step as best i could#but it's so easy to barely be able to support myself let alone this#yet it's also the excitement and pleasure of truly being myself that somehow enables me to be a lot more productive#and i've spent that in positions where they say they agree with me but in practice it isn't enough. still reeling from betrayal#that wasn't anyone's fault really they didn't know how far off their page i was#help me come up with steps#personal mental health tag
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Gundham & Yasuke
Summary: The Forbidden Tanaka’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. YES.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Language and blood/injuries.
Notes: Unsurprisingly, Tanaka was the winner of the poll for which FTEs were to be done next. So his FTEs, quite hilariously, are getting posted on the anniverary date for sdr2′s initial release. That feels pretty...fitting. Writing Tanaka’s dialogue was really hard but I did my best. Despite my best efforts, these two don’t get along the best that they could. Cursed.
Read this fic among others HERE
Main story is HERE
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It went without saying that he didn’t have a normal middle school experience so he didn’t interact with a lot of people who exhibited the so-called eighth-grader syndrome. But he knew that once kids had the cognitive ability to identify their lot in life and long for more, such desires could get...twisted, to say the least.
Just about everyone wants to be fucking special if they’re not too focused on surviving. And most people grew ashamed of the lofty aspirations and special interests they developed in that delicate era. Matsuda understood that much, even if he was considerably detached from it. In some ways, those people were like animals. Strange beasts that acted on impulses and instincts. That still had intelligence but not, like, awareness. When it came to engaging with these types, Matsuda had no choice but to accept them even as he shook his head at their delusions of grandeur.
He understands he’s supposed to do that in theory.
In practice, however...
“Sharp-tongued fool!” Tanaka bellowed. “You draw too near to the barrier of the Ice Kingdom!”
It’s a beautiful day outside. It’s always a beautiful fucking day. Clear, sunny sky. Warm but with a pleasant breeze to keep it from being too sweltering. It’s such a nice day—and Matsuda Yasuke does not want to be here.
Without another word, he turns on his heel.
“Aha!” Tanaka sneered. “To think just the warning prose would be enough to make you turn tail and run. A cowardice I did not expect, but perhaps... I should have.”
While walking away and listening to that guy cackle to himself, all Matsuda had in response was to flip him off.
He proceeded to avoid Tanaka for the rest of the day—and would’ve avoided him for the rest of his life had fate not had something else in store.
--
It was another beautiful day. The perfect day for a walk. He was thinking by the ranch so that he could admire the chickens as he passed. Unfortunately, he not only came across chickens but also the cow that used to be a chicken he quite liked.
Also Tanaka Gundam.
And their eyes ended up meeting.
There’s no real point in reasoning with someone who exhibits grandiose delusions, he reminded himself. It’s no good to denounce them, but it’s also no good to enable them. It’s a delicate line that I do not want to fucking bother with.
Matsuda does look away, intent on ignoring the other. Despite that resolve, his thoughts don’t shut up.
I didn’t have any peers in middle school for obvious reasons. I never actually spoke to someone my own age who felt this way. I was too busy being fixated on my own goals and lofty aspirations.
A couple of steps forward. It’s fine. If he continued the way he was already going, he can just pass Tanaka. It’d be easy. Simple.
...
Fuck.
He pauses. He turns. Tanaka has already turned away, but as if guided by the third sense of a fucking Evil All-Seeing Eye, he turns back to Matsuda. His brow quirks.
“Has the barrier truly weakened so?”
“I don’t know,” Matsuda replied intelligently. “For some reason, I feel too worn down to go through the effort of pretending you don’t exist.”
Tanaka cackled lowly.
“Such an insolent remark. It seems you do not truly know your place. But that is just as well. Even now, your true name is one that seems out of my grasp.”
“I’m Matsuda Yasuke. Nice to meet you.”
Tanaka clicked his tongue, scowling at Matsuda’s blank expression and his deadpan tone.
“That,” he snarled. “Is merely a brush against the surface. It does not encompass the deepest depths of your rogue soul.”
Alright. So he wants to know what makes me tick. If I had to guess.
“Your true name,” Tanaka requested impatiently. “I have no need for superficial titles.”
“That’s cold,” Matsuda huffed. “The name my mom gave me isn’t superficial.”
...even if it is ironic.
For some reason, Tanaka does perk up. He gives a nod of approval.
“A fair retort,” he concedes. “That maternal bond is its own scarring shackle.”
That admission was the first true crack in the wall between them. Or so Matsuda supposed, and he felt himself slip just a little bit further.
What a headache...
“Anyway,” he went on with a wave of his hand. “It’d be incredibly foolish to give you my true name, right? If telling a demon my name gives them possession of my soul and telling them my birthday gives them control of my life... Then telling someone like you...”
Tanaka nodded again, grinning so widely it was damn near grotesque.
“I see...the sharp-tongued fool is still retaining a sharp mind...”
I shouldn’t have played along even in jest. Fuck.
“What special abilities do you possess?” Tanaka purrs, drawing closer now. “What hidden capabilities have you acquired?”
Tanaka stalks even closer, his eyes are flashing with curiosity and hunger. Probably because this fucking weirdo wouldn’t understand a normal interaction if it bit him in the face.
I still hate that stare. I fucking hate that stare.
“You already know that,” Matsuda snapped, forcing himself to stay relaxed. “Neurology is my talent. You even know my name and birthday because of those damn student files...”
Calm down, calm down. It’s just fucking Tanaka—
Tanaka does halt. His head tilts quizzically.
“Hmph.” With nostrils flaring, Tanaka seemed to duck into his own scarf. “I suppose you are human after all.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Simple.” Tanaka chuckled. “I sensed your apprehension, Matsuda Yasuke. I sensed—and yet, I could tell it was not a chill brought about by the Ice Kingdom.”
Matsuda does flinch at that.
“I shall take my leave for now so that you may re-gather your peace,” Tanaka declared. “Till next time, sharp-tongued fool.”
Tanaka gave him a salute. Matsuda barely had a chance to wave back before Tanaka flipped his scarf and coat so that it would dramatically billow behind him as he made his overly dramatic exit. So fucking extra, and yet—
He left so that I could take the time to calm down.
And how the hell was he supposed to feel about that?
--
“Even now, I can hear the crackling of the Ice Kingdom’s barrier.” Tanaka was cackling. Another beautiful day. Yet somehow this weirdo was set on shrouding himself in asinine mystery as well as his own dark layers. How the hell was he not burning up?
Tanaka noticed his staring and merely smirked. “What brings you today, Matsuda Yasuke?”
Aah. Even with that pompous fucking tone, it’s an understandable question.
“I don’t like things to be unbalanced,” he said which was a bald-faced lie but sounded persuasive enough. “Since you interrogated me last time, I thought I’d ask you a few questions of my own.”
“Hmph!” Tanaka snorted. “You seek a comprehension that may underlie a deep terror that cannot be contained! Do you not fear for your sanity?”
“No, I’m insane already,” Matsuda said flatly. “I drove myself insane years ago.”
“Is that SO?!” Tanaka boomed, incredulous or admiring, Matsuda wasn’t sure. “Your humanity is one that only hangs by a thread, then?!”
I...can’t disagree with that, huh.
Matsuda shrugged.
“We’re not supposed to be talking about me. Let’s talk about you.”
Tanaka remained guarded but gave a nod.
“Very well. Demi-human or no, I shall not lose to you.”
That’s more like it. You’re much less annoying this way.
“What talents do you have?” he settles on since it’s only fair. “Even if it’s not the full roster, I’d like to know some...special abilities.”
“You shall only get a portion,” Tanaka said, sniffing. “Despite my appearance, I’m an active fiend. Between sorcery and human hunting, I manage my website.”
Matsuda blinked, trying to imagine this guy at a computer. Actually, it was really easy to imagine. There’s no way Tanaka learned to talk like an edgelord on his own.
I bet he spends a lot of time looking up stupid shit like Norse mythology. But, if he has a website, then...
“I have encrypted my research with magic,” Tanaka informed him. “Thus, only those worthy can gain access.”
...if he means through password then I could probably hack in with ease.
“If I had to guess what kind of research it was,” Matsuda mused. “Then—probably something like a pet diary, right?”
There were a series of muffled squeaks from Tanaka’s scarf. Tanaka burst into a boisterous boom of laughter.
“Even with your wits, you would only be able to access the dummy site!” Tanaka grinned victoriously, even though no conflict had taken place. “Your skill level would only open the gates of the Exciting Breeding Journal.”
“...Alright. That’s fine by me.”
You’re literally here because of your talent in animal husbandry.
“Favorite food?” Matsuda asked next. Tanaka stiffened. Growled, even. Because he was pissed off about getting such a lukewarm response? Matsuda didn’t bother inquiring, instead pressing, “Do you have one?”
“The orange melon that bears the face of the devil,” Tanaka huffed, put out. “No other food compares in terms of high nutrients or versatility in cooking methods. More importantly, its seeds are the most effective food source for my Four Dark Devas of Destruction.”
...a pumpkin. He’s talking about a pumpkin, right?
“However! Those seeds must be carefully washed, carefully dried, carefully peeled,” Tanaka rambled on. “And lightly fried.”
“How meticulous,” Matsuda muttered. “But nothing less for...them.”
“Indeed. A difficulty that beguiles pain and pleasure alike matters not in the face of a grand purpose.”
I can agree with that even if I hate how it’s worded.
“There is more when it comes to the caring of beasts,” Tanaka rumbled. “Shall I lead you deeper?”
“Uh.” Matsuda waved his hand. “Next time. Let’s talk more next time.”
Tanaka gave him a truly wicked grin. For once, it actually felt malicious.
“Take as much time you need to prepare yourself, sharp-tongued fool.”
Matsuda made a face but bit his tongue.
Piece of shit.
--
Tanaka wasn’t out and about today at the ranch. He wasn’t in the diner, either. It went to reason that he was likely in his cottage.
It’s only because I found some pumpkin seeds that I’m even going...
When he knocked on the door, he found it unlocked. Since he wasn’t an animal, he was going to wait for Tanaka to answer the door rather than barge in but...
“Ku—!”
He heard a noise. A sharp, strangled sound that was undeniably made through gritted teeth. Matsuda opened the door immediately.
“Is everything alright?”
And indeed—Tanaka was holding his bloodied hand in a death grip. The hamsters were chirping and chittering, but unaffected. What happened was clear, especially in how Tanaka’s shoulders were hunched.
Thankfully, Matsuda carried around packets of wet wipes. He rummaged through his pocket for one, stepping forward and reaching out.
“Let me...”
“NO!” Tanaka shrieked, and like a startled beast he scrambled away from his hand. He was panting, still gripping his injury with a wide and wild-eyed stare. Seeing Matsuda there did little to calm him down, as he growled, “The blood that flows through my veins bears a fearsome curse. You must step away now to spare yourself their potency.”
Thankfully, Matsuda carried around disposable gloves. He slipped them on, tearing the wet wipe packet open, and made his way closer.
“Come on. We really don’t want that bite to get infected.”
“This is not my first blood sacrifice,” Tanaka snarled, even showing his teeth. Gross. “I have no need for your medical sorcery. And furthermore, that meager covering...!”
“Oh my fucking god, shut the hell up.” Matsuda snatched up his hand, prying the other off as Tanaka shrieked some more. Thankfully, Matsuda was able to pull it away and got to work dabbing and cleaning the wound. Tanaka had completely frozen now, but Matsuda was still fuming.
“Don’t ever fucking call me meager,” he snapped, and thankfully Tanaka had spare clean bandages for him to re-wrap his hand with. “Crude and foolish I’ll take. Meager I won’t.”
Tanaka finally scoffed as Matsuda made sure the bandaging was secure.
“A demi-human like you has such pride.”
Look who’s fucking talking.
“You should not have endangered yourself, however,” Tanaka went on. “I was not telling falsehoods about my poisonous blood. It is only by a thread that you have not already deteriorated. As crude and foolish as you are, I do not desire your demise.”
“I’ve dealt with my fair share of poison, so you’re worrying too much,” Matsuda replied but winced from a sudden headache. As he rubbed removed his gloves to rub his temples, Tanaka stood up.
“You once again face the ramifications for your hubris!” he exclaimed and rushed back to deal with his hamsters. “I grant you relief, and I advise you to take your leave immediately.”
“I’m fucking fine, it’s just a migraine,” Matsuda griped and disposed of the gloves and wipes. “Should you really be handling those hamsters again so soon?”
“They are not mere hamsters!” Tanaka bellowed. “The fangs I have taken are that of the Crimson Steel Elephant, Maga-Z!”
Maga-Z blinked its bright beady eyes at Matsuda.
“For the sake of the Invading Black Dragon, Cham-P,” Tanaka went to coo over the largest hamster which was orange, not black. “A golden demon, one who understands fear all too well... Much attention should be heeded to make sure they do not get overly stressed out... While many devil beasts of this ilk are aggressive and fearfully territorial, the golden variant is the most docile and intelligent. They recognize me as...”
He trails off. It’s as if he’s too moved to speak.
I have heard hamsters had an unnaturally high rate of cannibalism, Matsuda thought. But I suppose like with dog breeds, they come in all sizes...and temperaments...
It was obvious Tanaka knew his shit, being an Ultimate at all. But seeing it firsthand, watching him dote on the beasts with a cottage interior largely dedicated to their cage and tube, the guy definitely loved animals. Like, a lot. Despite his delusions of grandeur, he at least seemed to love animals a healthy, non-obsessive amount.
“They’re living well,” Matsuda commented blandly.
Tanaka scoffed at him.
“For demons that live a mere 1095 days, the luxuries in life mean everything. I would never settle for less.”
“I see...” He scuffed the end of his shoe against the wooden floor. “That’s good.”
Shouldn’t have worn open-toed shoes, but I don’t have any alternatives. Oh, right.
“I got pumpkin seeds.” He tossed the bag and it landed on Tanaka’s lap. The hamsters jumped, and even Tanaka flinched. Matsuda, however, turned on his heel. “Sorry. Bye.”
With that insincere apology, he headed out. He could feel a disproving stare on his back but that didn’t lessen his steps in the slightest.
--
His favorite chicken-turned-cow was in a good mood today. She was accepting pets and even nipping at his fingers. All he had on him was candy. Not any fruit much less hay although...
“If you plan to feed that creature, you should be wary of apples,” Tanaka rumbled from behind. Where the fuck he came from, Matsuda wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t surprised to be hearing from him. “You can risk over-eating which will cause a bloated stomach for the animal.”
“Ah, thanks for the advice,” Matsuda said sincerely, turning back and frowning when he noticed the other’s own hanging head. “What’s with the long face?”
“I would hope that you do not consider that creature to be your familiar, Matsuda Yasuke,” Tanaka murmured sullenly and solemnly. Like he had come across something truly pitiful to the point of depressing.
Although he seems more focused on the cow itself...
“I don’t have a familiar,” Matsuda huffed.
Tanaka quirks an eyebrow at him. Furrows it, even, as if Matsuda is the one not making sense. How seriously annoying. But rather than inquire further, Tanaka just shakes his head.
“Creatures like that one are born to be slaughtered,” he said, turning on his heel. “What a wretched fate, one that cannot be escaped even with the use of the Evil All-Seeing Eye. If one is to form a bond with such an unfortunate beast, they will invite only calamity.”
“That’s...” Not necessarily true. There is livestock out there allowed to live full lives. But they’re exceptions that prove the rule, I suppose. And the fact that I even thought to use a word like allowed... “Woof.”
Tanaka barked back. “This sentimentality only arose because I have not encountered any new beasts. I shall go searching as to put my mind at ease.”
He walked on, and Matsuda found himself following. Tanaka didn’t seem to mind at all. The opposite, in fact.
“There are many creatures I’ve tamed, sharp-tongued one,” Tanaka went on to say. “The Cerberus. The Phoenix. Even then Midgardian Serpent.”
Looks like I was right on the money about him looking up Norse shit. That’s just another fucking word for Earth, asshole. I’ve read enough shitty fantasy manga to know.
“I saw a toucan one time,” he commented in lieu of verbalizing his thoughts. “And I guess there are the seagulls. Or those mascots.”
“Those uncute fiends cannot be trusted with their speech,” Tanaka hissed. “As for the others... Ah, the ravenous, feathered beasts.” Tanaka nodded sagely with approval at that one. “They are a perilous project as they are quite fearless and impulsive. Even when greater threats arise, they gather like a court waiting to hand down judgment.”
I think...that’s more something that crows do rather than seagulls.
He does think about it though, birds judging one another. If he looked up, he’d even see a seagull or two soar overhead. A phrase rose to his mind, unbidden.
When the seagulls cry...
“Hm?” Tanaka paused when he noticed that Matsuda had stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, and whatever expression was on Matsuda’s face—whatever that was had Tanaka clicking his tongue. “What is on your mind?”
“Something stupid,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Even in peaceful times, I can’t help but worry about how easily things fall apart. Sometimes for something as petty as a broken promise.”
Is it speech alone that gives us the means of betraying one another?
Tanaka did stiffen.
“It sure is fortunate for us that we’ve yet to deal with any storms,” Matsuda went on to say. “In fact, it’s perfect weather every single day. Isn’t that strange? It almost doesn’t feel real, and if it’s not real... Does anything that happens here matter?” He paused again. “Like I said. It’s stupid.”
“Your inane ponderings still have an air of malice,” Tanaka muttered darkly.
Huh.
“Are you saying I’m someone to be on guard around?” He cracked a dry smile. “I’m not that fucking interested in messing with people. I just lack patience.”
Tanaka gave him a look. Wordlessly, he shook his head.
“I think... I will seek solace elsewhere. Do not follow me.”
Matsuda didn’t. Simply watched the other go. It might’ve been one of those annoying situations where the person was saying the exact opposite of what they wanted, but even if he could tell that was the case, he still wouldn’t have followed.
After all.
He lacked patience.
--
Tanaka seemed especially moody today. Although no matter how sullen his air was, the island sun wouldn’t let up in the slightest. In a way, that was pretty cruel, right? In that much light, it made it difficult to hide. Or something like that.
Wonder what he’s being so fucking temperamental about...
Matsuda makes his way over, waving as he does. He stops, however, when Tanaka regards him coldly.
“Matsuda Yasuke,” he rumbled in a gravelly tone of voice. “The sharp-tongued fool whose practices engage in the constitution of the mind... Would you like to duel?”
Huh?
Matsuda dropped his hand.
“...have you finally fucking gone actually insane?” He sighed. “Don’t answer that. No, I don’t want to duel. And if you push it, I’ll leave. I don’t have time for that bullshit.”
Tanaka’s cold stare became more of a glare.
“I’m afraid I do not have such luxury around you,” Tanaka said sharply. “You grind down my defenses with this continued, unsightly association. Despite wearing the face of a human, you, Matsuda Yasuke are...!”
“I’m just human,” Matsuda replied before he could finish. With an unimpressed shrug, he added. “And if you wanted me to stop bothering you, all you had to fucking do was say so.”
“I allowed these exchanges out of a sense of curiosity, arrogantly unheeding the danger,” Tanaka went on, muttering as he did. “Truly, I have been foolish.”
The sun shone down on him. On a day this bright, there wasn’t anyone to hide. Tanaka ‘Gundam’ looked a bit ill. When Matsuda took a step closer, however, he recoiled. With a sharp hiss, Tanaka held up his hand in warning.
Like an agitated cat.
Matsuda drew back with a sigh.
Someone like this—really is so needlessly fucking difficult. And for what? An inflated sense of importance? Wasn’t getting into Hope’s Peak enough?
...if he complained too much, he’d veer uncomfortably close to hypocrisy.
Hope’s Peak was just another step for me, but I wonder what it was for someone like this? Where the hell would he be if he didn’t get in? Honestly—I doubt it would’ve been all that significant.
“Alright,” he said. “Did you get anything out of our interactions at least?”
Tanaka stared at him, but being a normal fucking person without magical powers, Matsuda was more than capable of staring back, unaffected. For some reason, Tanaka did shy back a little.
“I have keenly observed you,” he said lowly. “Namely how your regard only shifts when directed towards creatures already marked for death. I suspect—you are a creature of calamity. The eye of the storm.”
“So, what,” Matsuda drawled. “Like a demon?”
Tanaka hummed, seemingly considering it. “No... That is not quite right.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, then,” Matsuda huffed, waving his hand dismissively. “But—I think I get what you’re saying. I just think it’s funny coming from you—and that you don’t understand.”
Tanaka’s stare blazed with an offense, and Matsuda paid no heed at all.
“How I regard creatures marked for death...” Matsuda snorted. “I’m a fucking doctor. Obviously, I treat them differently. It’s part of my fucking job.”
Although he’s referring to the cow, isn’t he? Seriously...
“I guess it’s weird,” he admitted. “With how shitty of an attitude I have. But I take my job seriously. If you can’t get something that simple, then your Evil All-Seeing Eye is pretty fucking lacking.”
“You...” Tanaka growled. “You’re truly impertinent. You wield your blade recklessly and foolishly. You and I both know—that it runs deeper than mere duty for you, Matsuda Yasuke.”
...so what if it does?
He supposes he should be impressed that Tanaka isn’t that fucking dense. That the animal freak is, in fact, a little perceptive.
Smiling mirthlessly, Matsuda reached out to pat the flinching other’s shoulder. He gripped him for just a moment.
“That’s all you need to know about me,” he murmured into Tanaka’s ear before pulling back. “I think we’re at enough of an understanding. Thanks for your time.” He gave a salute as he headed on his way. “We don’t need to talk again. We especially don’t need to duel. Have a wonderful fucking day.”
“One day,” Tanaka swore. “You will meet your cruel, disastrous end. That is the decree of the Tanaka Kingdom!” As Matsuda got further away, Tanaka boomed after him. “Mark my words, sharp-tongued FOOL! You are MARKED for des—!”
It was such a headache that Matsuda tuned him out. But as he found himself alone, he did wonder.
Marked for destruction? Or something else? Despite all that time, rather than growing close, that weirdo is now convinced that I’m hopeless. He might be right. Actually, I’d still consider us closer if he can recognize that. I still don’t really care. I don’t.
He walked on, moving forward because he had nowhere else to go.
Decree. What a fucking riot. If I do die, it won’t be because of an idiot like him. But whatever makes him feel better I suppose.
Matsuda shook his head, brushing the whole thing aside except...
If I die... It won’t be until I reach the very fucking pits. I won’t settle for anything less.
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In Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend, Lila and Elena’s experiences through the public education system as well as in their neighborhood and families show how language is both a fluid and powerful source that can enable socioeconomic development for those who have access. Elena is set free from the constraints of her violent, abusive, oppressive, negative, domestic, neighborhood because she had access to language. At the end of the novel we see that language and literacy have quite truly set Elena free while Lila is trapped; Lila has hit the ceiling of her available resources before the finish line, and she is stuck. Elena has broken free, and Lila encourages her to keep going.
A common theme in the novels of this course is that language can give someone the power to describe what is happening to them and around them. The female protagonists we’ve encountered often find themselves stuck because they cannot express what they are feeling. In some cases, such as in Nightwood, the world hasn’t made a word for a particular concept yet. Instead of being a lesbian or simply a woman attracted to another woman, Robin is a freak along with anyone else who can’t find a label that already exists. She can’t even find the words to define herself.
In My Brilliant Friend, though, we see this power in effect when Lila verbalizes what everyone is thinking and trying to suggest about her marrying Stefano. They tell her to be careful about his intentions and how he is courting her, and she responds by saying, “’Look, Marcello tried in every possible way to buy me but no one is going to buy me.’” (Ferrante 242). Lila uses language to voice what is happening to her and that she knows what people are afraid of. Everyone else is thinking it, but she put it quite literally and clearly when she says this.
Though it comes much later (as in, when she writes her story), Elena finally uses language to describe what Donato Sarratore did to her and how it made her feel. “In fact, this is the first time I’ve sought words,” she says “for that unexpected end to my vacation” (Ferrante 233). She uses language to work out why she couldn’t love Nino anymore, or rather why she had to stay away from him even though she did love him.
“Seeing him immediately brought to mind Donato Sarratore, even if they didn’t resemble each other at all. And the disgust, the rage aroused by the memory of what his father had done without my being able to repulse him extended to Nino. Of course, I loved him… I [rackled] my brains: Why do you behave like that, the father isn’t the son, the son isn’t the father, behave as Stefano did with the Pelusos. But I couldn’t. As soon as I imagined kissing him, I felt the mouth of Donato, and a wave of pleasure and revulsion mixed father and son into a single person” (Ferrante 255).
Xuela does the same with The Autobiography of My Mother. The final paragraph is her final confession. By telling the story she is able to conclude that she lived her sad life so that she may survive, and that she did. She uses words to understand herself.
Not only does language have power in itself, but holds a certain kind of weight when it is written down. Spoken word is important but can be forgotten; the written word lives on forever. We see this is Foxfire. Maddy writes down, as Legs suggests, exactly as it happens. Memory cannot compete with the true facts that Maddy records on her typewriter. When she reflects on her recordings, she can relive the true experience. And no one can challenge her because she wrote it down.
In My Brilliant Friend, the written word carries its value in actual money. Lila and Elena realize this at a young age when Lila decides to write The Blue Fairy: “We thought that if we studied hard we would be able to write books and that the books would make us rich” (Ferrante 70). While the girls’ attempt was fruitless, as Maestra Oliviero never takes even the slightest peek, we find out later in the novel that they had the right idea. In chapter eleven, we find out that Donato Sarratore has written and published a book. He is transformed from a man into a poet in the eyes of the neighborhood, and Lila is giddy with the idea that the whole Sarratore family will become rich because of this book.
Even Lila’s shoe drawings are a good example. While they may not be words, Lila drew shoes designs, thus materializing her ideas. These drawings would lead her all the way into marrying a very wealthy, powerful man who could help her family. No one would have listened to her if she would have just described the shoes; she had to visually show how unique and good they were (people also don’t take her seriously because she is not a boy). Stefano and Rino had to see this in order for the shoes to eventually come to be. Writing things down gives power and money (like Maddy and the typewriter).
Elena uses language to describe herself. “As soon as I could,” she says, “I locked myself in the bathroom and looked in the mirror, naked” (Ferrante 96). She uses words that she probably used from society to describe herself (ex. “I got fat). Xuela had this same moment, and maybe all girls have this moment, but Xuela falls in love with her body. Elena is instead ashamed because she is told by people like her mother that her breasts are too big. She looks inappropriate, according to her mother and the boys at school, which she absolutely cannot help.
Another super power of language is that it gives status without explanation. No questions asked. Everyone is impressed when Lila and Elena first go to school and do well in their language courses. The novel doesn’t mention the other subjects like Arithmetic very often because their importance is almost nothing compared to the way people in the town value language and literacy. Almost none of the adults can read, so for a child to be able read is to see a glimpse of a brighter future. Elena’s father, though terribly abusive towards her, takes her to town and is proud of her for maybe the first time after she gets her first set of nines.
“Illiteracy does not occur at random but is typically the plight of poor and powerless people, and it is a fundamental manifestation of the problem of social inequality” (“Women and Illiteracy”). The people in Elena’s neighborhood are illiterate because they are poor, so for Elena to learn how to read and write means that maybe she can become something more than poor.
We see this idea of status in literacy again in chapter five when the girls are beginning to talk about their feelings towards boys: “’Why do you say no’” Lila asked [Elena] in dialect. I answered unexpectedly in proper Italian, to make an impression, to let her understand that, even if I spent my time talking about boyfriends, I wasn’t to be treated like Carmela” (Ferrante 103). Elena knows that she, Lila, and Carmella are all guilty of discussing the same subject matter, but she believes speaking properly will elevate her and will somehow justify the “petty” talk. She’d be talking about the same thing regardless, but depending on how she says it will push her up or pull her down on the socioeconomic ladder.
This leads me to my next point, which is that language is fluid. Very often throughout the novel, we hear Elena say things like “I said in Italian�� or “she said in dialect” to express the tone of situation and of the person speaking. Why does it matter in which language the character is speaking? And why would they choose to speak better or worse depending on whom they are speaking to? Nino expresses himself in Italian more so than in dialect, and this is attractive to Elena (Ferrante 215). Just how in chapter eighteen she says she wants a boy who wears pants, she wants a boy who can speak the way people richer than her do. Pants means manhood and manhood means class. She speaks in dialect when she wants to relate to her peers but in Italian when she wants to rise above them. Fluidity of language represents the way people, Elena, can shift between social classes.
Language also helps people communicate. A problem for characters in the novel is that they cannot express how they feel, and this resorts to violence. “Numerous studies have reported that more education for women results in fewer children per family, less infant mortality, marriage at a later age, healthier children, and better reared and educated children.” (“Women and Illiteracy”). Children are the future, but if they grow up with violence in an absence of language, they will grow up to foster the same.
Women are often the victim of the violence, and this of course correlates to literacy as well. Women are truly an abused group, and while it might be nice for them to use language like Elena does to escape, they can’t due to lack of access. Lila is our prime example. “We sense early on that Lila will stay trapped in her world, and that Elena, the writer, will get out” (The New Yorker). She has the intelligence and the will to rise above the neighborhood, to escape the trap of eternal domesticity, but she can’t because 1) she doesn’t have the money and 2) she doesn’t have the encouragement or assistance from her teachers like Elena does (because of who her family is, something over which she has no control). When Elena mentions Lila to her teacher, her teacher responds “if one wishes to remain a plebian, he, his children, the children of his children, deserve nothing. Forget Cerullo and think of yourself” (Ferrante).
Women, especially women in poor neighborhoods, don’t have as much access to education. In chapter 15 when Rino decides he will pay for his sister to go to school, his father asks him “why should your sister, who is a girl, go to school” (Ferrante 69). Such a statement says so much about the world these characters live it.
Language gives strength. It gives excitement and motivation to Lila when she has access, and it gives Elena freedom because she has more. It gives these characters the ability to describe what is happening to them and in the world around them. It even allows Elena to have a better life than anyone in her family or neighborhood could have dreamed. The issue is that Elena is the only one who got to truly reap the benefits of literacy. Lila hit a wall, as many women in literature and in life do. It’s been proven what a better world we would have if women could read and write, but we can’t make that change until they have access. Lila’s experience shows reality, and Elena’s shows hope.
- Catherine DeBuys
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