I have waited since January to post this since it is a deeply personal piece, and putting it up means talking about it. I am working on a zine that explores the concept more in depth, but ever since watching the Force Awakens for the first time, I identified strongly and painfully with Kylo Ren/Ben Solo, in that I had been a child controlled since birth by malignant forces that I could neither control nor explain (in Ben's case, Snoke; in my case, multiple mental illnesses). By using Snoke as a metaphor for the conditions that have done (and continue to do) me so much harm, I have been able to re-examine my childhood in a new light.

It says a lot that I always tended, and still tend, to side with the (queer-coded, more often than not) villains in popular culture. Maybe it's the “bad kid” still in me that desperately wants to see the good in the Kylo Rens of the world—because if he can get a redemption arc, that means one is possible for me.

(In my fashion, I drew this years ago and am just now uploading it.) Loki, what have you done?

I had made this for Bodhi Rook Week on Tumblr last year (certain weeks are sometimes dedicated to celebrating certain characters) but am just now uploading it. For Bodhi Rook Week I wanted to create something that encompassed some of the reasons Rogue One was so important to me, focusing, of course, on Bodhi's character.

I credit Rogue One for bringing up several themes to mainstream audiences that have already served as a jumping-off point for discussion.

The scenes in Jedha hit home for me because they reminded me so much of the West Bank, Palestine, specifically Hebron, a country that many of my friends call home. Another Tumblr user who I was talking to said that Jedha reminded her of Iraq where her family is from, another country ravaged by a brutal military occupation.

That Rogue One is told from the perspective of the rebels allows audiences to sympathize with those they would otherwise see as terrorists. This brings up the major theme of who an imperialist/colonialist power defines as terrorists, and how this dehumanization and otherization allows an empire to justify its violence and subjugation against them.

Bodhi represents a life lived under occupation, and the choices one makes living under occupation, none of which are easy or without consequence. When we first meet him, he is suspect because of the years he has spent as a pilot for the Empire. As @hijabifinn wrote, “...Bodhi Rook grew up in Jedha, a place under Imperial Occupation. Understand that the choices you make in order to survive occupation [do] not automatically equate to being a willing participant. Bodhi Rook did not want [to] join the Empire. He had to, in order to survive.”

Instead of resigning himself to a life in service of the Empire, Bodhi makes the choice to give his life for the cause of his people's freedom. Too often a colonialist power's idea of a “peace process” means a colonized people laying down their arms and quietly accepting defeat. The minute a people defends itself against subjugation is when they become terrorists.

The tiles are cutouts from ceramics made in the West Bank. The poem is an excerpt from “Erasure” by Abdul Karim Sabawi, a Palestinian poet.

[Please do not reblog without my caption.]

Is your refrigerator running?

My dog always waits on my parents' bed for them to come home.