It is easy to recognize how this works in some situations: when we evaluate people on the basis of their academic credentials, for example, this prioritizes abstract knowledge over lived experience, centralizing those who can get a fair shot in academia and marginalizing everyone else. But if we don’t want to reinforce the hierarchies of our society, we should be careful not to validate forms of legitimacy that perpetuate them. When we want to be taken seriously, it’s tempting to claim legitimacy any way we can. A wink from someone you think you know.When sylvia path wrote "there is your dead father who is somwhere in you," and when nicola yoon wrote "growing up and seeing your parents' flaws is like losing your religion, i don't believe in god anymore, i don't believe in my father either", and when blythe baird wrote, "half daughter, half apology, all fire and the wrong kind of love", and when key ballah wrote "your father could have been kinder, he could have been gentler, he could have held his tongue and his fists", and when katie maria wrote "my head spins and i am back in my childhood home where love doesn't exist", and when annie ernaux wrote "i am still searching for my father's love in all the corners of the world", and when clementine von radics wrote "every time a man yells, you are seven years old again and he is packing that suitcase, once more picking you up by the neck, teaching you obedience, to be soft like the belly of a fish exposed to a knife", and when amatullah bourdon wrote, "'you were my father', he wanted to say, 'so why couldn't you be my father?"' and when kanika lawton wrote, "i always walk behind men who feel like my father", and when desireé dallagiacomo wrote "and i think that's what a father is- a blade that never stops cutting", and when catherine lacy wrote, "if you're raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house, you will find him even when he is not there and if one day you find that there is no angry man in your house- well, you will go find one and invite him in!" and when augustin gómez-arcos wrote, "the word 'father' rotted in my mouth", Fancy dinner parties, where everyone knows more than they’re saying. Passionate love confessions with tragic ends. Collapsing dramatically into a fainting chair. Birdsong.Ī human skull upon a stack of paper. Dreams of spires, and and stone, and marble. A Greek statue that seems mournful, somehow, and you can’t look away. Meticulous notes, calculations and drawings. Clandestine lectures and secret societies. A Victorian office adorned with old maps, and books, and memorabilia. Passion that seizes your soul and locks your limbs and loosens your lips until the words come pouring out. Frantic notes and connections, chaotic and smudged and hardly discernible. Black coffee, wild eyes, shaking fingers. ![]() Trilling piano.Ī dream of a bloodstained dagger. A laugh thatĬhimes like bells but hides something darker. Slumping piles of research in dim lamplight. Ink smudges on fingers andįace and clothes. A confident swagger through grand, austere courthouses. A crystal chandelier that catches the light and sends sunspots across the room. ![]() That place between sleep and wakefulness where dreams bleed into reality. Dark Academia aesthetics by university major: part 3
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