Long time no see.
I've been preoccupied with the same line of thought for some time now- going back a few months, though the inklings of discomfort began earlier than that, certainly. Things have come to a boiling point, and in the aftermath of recent events, I've had to confront unpleasantries I'd have rather not.
It's exhausting. I'm exhausted. Despite persistent efforts- of advocating, of attempting to eloquently present a point so as to even get your foot into the door, of painstaking overthinking and rumination about topics that are blatantly overlooked or ignored because it simply doesn't factor in as a consideration, of deliberately highlighting and uplifting and encouraging and curating- it really feels like it hasn't amounted to very much at all.
It's embarrassing. It's hideously shameful to be a part of a community where the issue of generative AI use is still considered to be a contentious topic- and while diving into the front lines to firmly assert that its unwelcome, that it does harm- people still callously choose to engage with it. They bemoan the emotionality on display, express anger at being made to feel discomfort when confronted with the real life outcomes of its use on working artists, snidely remark that it's *good* that it steals in some sick bastardization of making art more 'accessible' when frankly, that was never a serious consideration, given the flagrant ableism, transphobia, and misogyny running rampant.
Sure, a few have been swayed, the general consensus seems to be cautiously approaching ways to rule and preside over- and all the while, it comes at the cost of exhaustively explaining over and over to people that they ought to care, that they are doing harm, and watching miserably as it's brushed aside. Worst of all, is the combative anger, the explosive rage that comes out of feeling uncomfortable about people choosing to not engage with works they find morally and ethically reprehensible- and spew lies about people en masse downvoting them, when that was something that their side threatened to do, not ours.
And while yes, things are marginally better than in the absolute hell of 2016: there are still glaring issues in a community that largely prioritizes the voices of the privileged. Women are still commodified for their bodies, front and centre- at one of the most iconic and representative events of the year. Generative AI is still on full display: for artwork, and for text which is baffling, in a community that prides itself on the quality of its prose, and is, well, entirely text based in origin.
Trigger warnings are still considered contentious. It matters not if you painfully expose all of the reasons that someone might want to be able to choose whether or not to engage with a work that might be harmful to their mental health, how many best practices guidelines you share- there is still a pervasively paternalistic view of knowing better than you, despite the medical system's woeful shortcomings when trauma enters the picture: C-PTSD is still not a recognized diagnosis in Canada or America, for one glaring failure. CBT is still pushed for patients with traumagenic disorders, when evidence points towards much better results with DBT, EDMR, and CPT. You're still considered to be weak, ignorant, fussy- spoiling the mystery of the work, as if that takes precedent over real human harm.
The lack of sympathy and compassion is enormous. That doesn't even begin to touch upon some of my horrible experiences within the community. Direct threats towards me made in broad daylight with the user not experiencing any real repercussions, an attempted doxxing, harrassment off-site and repeated attempts to assert a closer relationship to me than actually existed alongside wildly inappropriate assertions about the nature of my platonic relationships with older men being romantic or sexual in nature: all of that washed down alongside arguments that the sort of games I make aren't real games, shouldn't even be made in the first place, impede a gamer's sense of escapism- (there's that again, comfort of the comfortable over the discomfort of realizing the experiences of others less fortunate exists) and are circlejerking pseudo therapy sessions rather than real art.
I've been misgendered more times than I can count- often from otherwise perfectly pleasant, probably well intentioned people. I don't even bother to correct them anymore, because I've long since learned that regardless of how I carry myself, I will always be seen for what I was born as- and there's nothing that I can do to change that. That no matter how kind, or what good company they might make, they still view me as a woman- perhaps a confused sort of woman, or a traumatized sort of woman who is too silly to realize that no matter what beliefs she holds, the material reality of her body will always betray her: that it doesn't matter how I see myself, because the world will continually assert otherwise. Is it worth the energy to ask for the dignity of identity? No. I'm too tired. It's exhausting.
I love writing. I want to love this community. But it doesn't love me back- the very same painful realization and lesson I had to learn while occupying formal writing workshops and classes, where racism and misogyny and transphobia simmered beneath the surface, under the genteel wash of rational respectability. Being palatable comes at an acerbic cost: too difficult to swallow. I've made good friends in it, sure- but it doesn't change the attitudes and pains of the community norms as a whole.
It makes me have even more empathy and sympathy for people in a similar position in years gone past- who also dealt with silently condoned harassment, who were also stripped of their identities and belittled for the kind of games that they made: who left, ultimately, driven out of a community that would claim they loved the work they made, but couldn't care less about who made it, or how they treated them. Chewed up and spat out. Treated lesser than. Perhaps the most virulent members have indeed, been split off and formed their own quiet collectives: but being less terrible than the absolute worst isn't very much of an accomplishment to be proud of.
In a terribly parasocial sense, I'm very proud of those who chose to keep creating their own works outside of the community, who still thrived in creating vibrant, unapologetic, queer art- who did not cut themselves down into something palatably swallowed, who relished in their creative voice and drive: for better or for worse, they were committed to realizing themselves and their work, and I envy that, as well- the bravery, the unmitigated gall: I admire it, and envy it, and am proud of it, all in the same jumbled up mess of emotions. Their work is a massive inspiration to other queer creatives in the space to this day: and I know that it has certainly been so to mine. Body horror and gay monstrous beings falling in love absolutely fucking rocks.
The point is simple. I'm tired. I've realized that no matter how much I put in, it will never be enough- and there is very little to show for it. That other people, who left for similar reasons, for the hostilities of forcibly gendering and silence in the face of direct harm- turned out to do just fine when they moved on. That I too, have left similar spaces before: outwardly accepting, but falling radically short of the mark, and there is very little stopping me from packing my bags and leaving. A community like that doesn't deserve the amount of emotional labour required merely to comfortably exist in it as a queer creative, or to be party to my works: writing is a deeply personal art for me. And the thing is- I'm not even the first to feel like this. Weirdly, the precedent set by others is really comforting- to know that, yeah, it's not just you, and you'll be fine doing your own thing, if that's what you want.
Mostly, I'm just tired. I don't want to deal with the fallout of properly cutting ties. I don't want to give up on spaces I helped massively to foster and create. But it feels as if I have very little choice in the matter, sometimes. Outlook: grim, and unpleasant. I'm not sure what I'll ultimately do. No matter what that is- I do know that it has been incredibly painful to not be treated as a human being worthy of basic respect and dignity.