…is recurring phrases like this:
When I watched TV, everything from Disney to Coronation Street, there was never a representation of me.
Tell you what, do people really look for “representations of themselves” in fiction when they’re kids? Really?
I honestly don’t know. To me, the very premise is alien.
I never did.
I saw characters I wanted to be. I didn’t think about whether they resembled the then-current me anyhow or not. I just knew “I want to grow up to be like this.” “This” could be male, female, a talking animal, a robot, a monster, a tower, never mattered.
And I am not buying the “you do not understand zilch cuz ur damned white privilege” adage. Privilege my [AYEM].
As a kid, I was never “welcome” anywhere, despite being technically white and even superficially “cis”. If you asked the world around me (and it spoke quite audibly despite never being asked to, y’know), I had the wrong clothes, wrong hair, and despicable skin. If anything, you could well conclude that having a red nose and early-onset acne negates any sort of “whiteness”. “Privilege” busted.
So by that sort of logic, I should have been in love with fiction that featured goddamn ugly characters that everyone hates. Because they represented “me”.
What’s the point?!
I only started to identify with characters when I was well into my twenties. Late twenties. And even then, I care for shared emotions and values. I totally don’t need there to be some show or book featuring a hypothetical asexual genderfree Otherkin born into a female humanoid body with a specific skin shade.
These are superficial features. They’re irrelevant.