There are things that rip my skin open and reveal what lies beneath, but I don’t believe in trigger warnings. I don’t believe people can be protected from their histories. I don’t believe it is at all possible to anticipate the histories of others.
Writers cannot protect their readers from themselves, nor should they be expected to.
—Roxane Gay, basically giving me the exact words to sum up my feelings about trigger warnings.
The incredible problem Girls faces is that all we want is everything from each movie or television show or book that promises to offer a new voice, a relatable voice, an important voice. We want, and rightly so, to believe our lives deserve to be new, relatable, and important. We want to see more complex, nuanced depictions of what it really means to be whoever we are or were or hope to be. We just want so much. We just need so much.
—Roxane Gay, Bad Feminist.
I can’t believe I’m just getting around to this now. She’s such a badass.
Then you could realize that the ostracism inflicted on Baldakchan was without foundation. There was no brutality in Baldakchan’s harmonies, nothing grimly intellectual about his melodies. They were terribly moving. It is true that the audience now judging Bldakchan’s work was far closer to the ideal listeners he had in mind as he composed: living wolves, immortal plucentenarians, dead wolves.
Minor Angels by Antoine Volodine, page 132