And there I am, blushing and confused, made beautiful by Cinna’s hands, desirable by Peeta’s confession, tragic by circumstance, and by all accounts, unforgettable.
#SYMBOLOGY #i have so many feelings about how katniss everdeen is erased so that a symbol bearing katniss everdeen’s face can take her place #and the truth of her doesn’t matter #it will never matter #and she will be remembered in history books the way all (good) women are remembered in history books #as a saint or as a girl in love or a statue with wings on her back #and the actual truth of her—who she really was—will be buried under the memory of the symbol she turned into #importance other people assigned to her that she didn’t want #but she got it anyway and that’s the way the world works sometimes #other people decide that you are important even when you didn’t mean to be important #and then you live with it #whether or not katniss is a symbol of the revolution is not the question. she is one. the question is how she’s going to fight it. #‘it’ being the revolution and ‘it’ being the perceptions of her #she fights the revolution #she doesn’t fight the perceptions #she tries for a little while but then she gives up#she rescinds into the trauma of her own life and only the symbol is left standing #the symbol which tells a very different story than the story of a girl who would drown cats if her sister didn’t cry #a girl who maneuvered her feelings for a boy to win a game long before she fell in love with him #a girl who needed to choose between human beings and whose life was at times not heroic at all #history will remember katniss everdeen far more kindly than katniss everdeen will remember her own history #it will erase all the bad parts of her and turn her into that lady liberty painting from the french revolution #which is by the way the painting i forever associate with katniss everdeen #because of symbol problems and the way women are portrayed in revolutionary moments: saints or whores always #and THAT i am obsessed with
eyre:
Never let me go
Never let me go
#i can’t deal with you assholes #look at his stupid face when she hugs him #allowing themselves the space to need things #allowing themselves the space to feel things #allowing themselves space #and carving it out in places that do not allow them to have that space #and reshaping their own narrative as they go along #without knowing any of the rules #and messing it up and smudging the ink #and staining it on their hands (the guilt and blood and shame and apathy) #only to find that they are both as damaged #they are matching scars #we are fire mutts. both of us. #shut up #i can’t deal with you #shut up #physically shoving weapons into each other’s hands at the same time they’re trying to save each other #blood and dirt and gristle #like angels in the mud or something jesus christ #bodies as anchors for selves #this is how you know who you are #this is how you mark who you are #hands and bodies #salvation through reconstruction of self #forging their own redemptions through each other #beautiful mirrors
“We were five. You had a plaid dress and your hair…it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out while we were waiting to line up. He said, ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner.’ And I said, ‘A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could’ve had you?’ And he said, ‘Because when he sings…even the birds stop to listen.’ So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She put you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, ever bird outside the windows fell silent. And right when your song ended, I knew -just like your mother- I was a goner.”
