I grew up surrounded by Disney Princesses, and by friends who latched on to those Disney princesses. I never really related, though.
I liked reading, but never saw myself as a Belle. I am an extrovert, but had way too much social anxiety to be anything like an Ariel. I felt something of a kinship with Prince Phillip, but of course that didn't get to count, either, because he was a boy. Gasp.
The first time in my life that I saw a Disney princess on screen, and thought, "she's me!" was when Frozen came out in 2013. Finally, we had a socially awkward extrovert with just the right amount of clutziness and naivete. Who had intense bed hair, was problematically impulsive, and often dove into a complicated project without thinking it through first.
Representation is important.
I'm sure I latched onto many symbols over the years, but the first one I remember that really meant something deeper to me was during my first watch-through of Avatar: the Last Airbender. There's a particular episode where Aang is trying to learn to earthbend, and it's coming into very direct conflict with his innate nature as a person.
During that episode, I realized that I have a very earthbender-esque personality. I thought that was fun, and I was enjoying the show. (Which, by the way, is VERY good.) So I made myself some Toph-like wrist cuffs decorated with the earthbender symbol, and wore them every day for years.
At first, it was just a goofy fandom thing. But as those years went on, I got deeper and deeper into some really complicated headspace. My finances were stretched razor thin. My time was split between three jobs. I started having seemingly-random panic attacks about several personal issues, including church and dating.
All in all, not really a great time.But as I wore those earthbender wristbands, I would look down at the symbol, and think "I am tough. I can get through this."
That might sound silly to some people, but it did help. Keeping a symbol of strength and endurance on my person helped me lean into that part of myself.
And if a fandom symbol can do that, imagine how much more important other symbols might become.
I Like to Look For Rainbows
I don't know the first time I really took to the rainbow symbol. I've always liked full-rainbow tie dye, and the brightness of big, bold color, instead of sophisticated matching palettes of muted tones. But I sincerely can't remember the first time I recognized the rainbow as a symbol of the LGBTQ+ community.
I do know that I was scared to roll with it, at first, because I was not only hesitant to admit things out loud to people, but I was hesitant to admit them to myself. Wearing a rainbow was like saying it verbally, and somehow that made it more real.
This is a hard thing to describe to many people who have never NOT seen themselves in the books, tv, art, and movies that surround them. A football bro, for example, has thousands of movies about people like him. There are entire TV channels dedicated to his passion. Schools all over the country dedicate massive amounts of educational funding to the sport.
There is nothing wrong with football being the thing that sparks joy for that guy. The point is just that he's never had to hide it. There are very, very few places in the United States where being a football fan would be embarrassing or derided or bullied in any kind of way. It's considered so natural for a dude to like football that often people just assume it about others, and get confused when that assumption is wrong.
When the thing that sparks joy for you, and that makes you feel youer than other activities, is something that millions of other people around the country also share, it's easy to forget that not everyone has that luxury.
In fact, it's almost instinctive to see something that does not represent you at all, and feel offended by it. To feel ostracized by it. To feel left out. Because you're so used to being 'in' that you don't even know how it feels to not be included in everything ever.
So, What's My Point?
But We Didn't Mean It That Way. You're Overreacting.
Which Brings Us to the Original Catalyst For This Post
"Then, imagine the pain that comes with a memo like this one I recently received. These are just a half-dozen lines from a two-page document:
“You should know,” the writer says, “that some people in the extended community are feeling abandoned and betrayed by BYU."
“Please don’t think I’m opposed to people thinking differently about policies and ideas,” the writer continues. “I’m not. But I would hope that BYU professors would be bridging those gaps between faith and intellect and would be sending out students that are ready to do the same in loving, intelligent and articulate ways. Yet, I fear that some faculty are not supportive of the church’s doctrines and policies and choose to criticize them publicly. There are consequences to this."
"Three years later, 2017, Elder Dallin H. Oaks, not then but soon to be in the First Presidency where he would sit, only one chair — one heartbeat — away from the same position President Nelson now has, quoted our colleague Elder Neal A. Maxwell who had said:
“In a way[,] [Latter-day Saint] scholars at BYU and elsewhere are a little bit like the builders of the temple in Nauvoo, who worked with a trowel in one hand and a musket in the other."
Followed by:
"Then Elder Oaks said challengingly, “I would like to hear a little more musket fire from this temple of learning.” He said this in a way that could have applied to a host of topics in various departments, but the one he specifically mentioned was the doctrine of the family and defending marriage as the union of a man and a woman."
Using musket fire as a way to tell people to defend the church against gay people 1000% went straight to the heads of a lot of the DezNats, who started threatening people online with gunfire, and other death threats. Did Holland (and Oaks) literally say to go start shooting gay people with real guns? No. They did not.
But did they use a metaphor that could so easily be twisted and taken out of context? Yes. Did they choose to use metaphors with violent imagery? Yes. Could they have used a number of other metaphors to still accurately describe defending the home turf? Absolutely yes.
(Here are some stats about how bad Utah is already, without further encouragement. Over 2,000 victims just in 2020 due to homophobia? Not okay.)
But because they went with gunfire, things online got out of hand QUICKLY. And saying "they didn't mean it that way" doesn't help. That doesn't fix anything. That doesn't make what happened unproblematic. The answer is not "oh, I didn't mean it." It's "I am sorry I said that thing. I retract it."
Not taking accountability for words in that way is textbook manipulative behavior. If it would be bad for a husband to do it to his wife, why would it be somehow more okay for a general authority to do it to a whole church?
3) In the same beat, Holland moved from musket fire as a metaphor to "let's all get rid of divisive symbols." Yes, the irony of that is not lost on me. But more importantly, these are the exact words:
"We hope it isn’t a surprise to you that your trustees are not deaf or blind to the feelings that swirl around marriage and the whole same-sex topic on campus. I and many of my brethren have spent more time and shed more tears on this subject than we could ever adequately convey to you this morning, or any morning. We have spent hours discussing what the doctrine of the church can and cannot provide the individuals and families struggling over this difficult issue. So, it is with scar tissue of our own that we are trying to avoid — and hope all will try to avoid — language, symbols, and situations that are more divisive than unifying at the very time we want to show love for all of God’s children."