If culture is a collective identity, which the psyches of all participants inform, then the concept of cultural reappropriation itself is an act of colonizing, of insisting that only the favored might set standards for all others to abide by, to have their identities informed by rather than versa vice, as though culture could or should be a for-profit ordeal. Non-inclusive exclusivity, rather than a thing to be shared. I insist, that all those believing that a culture is something that would be stolen, do not understand what culture is. Which is to say, something a bit more meaningful than gift shop products bearing copyright labels and sales tags. And I also insist that the voices with the tendency are projecting their own personal commodification. Artifacts can but fashion for example cannot be stolen, only repeated.
Developing one’s personal thoughts and feelings is how one manages his or her identity in the wilds of the world, for having no thoughts or feelings limits one’s propensity to respond to the circumstances of the world. But no thought or feeling is a guideline for how the world must respond to the individual. Because believe it nor not the world exists entirely outside one’s head. This is why an over the hill economy manufacturing demand to meet preordained supply is ass-backwards to solving any actual problems.
People unabashedly measure all life around them near and far by its usefulness to enriching otherwise meaningless icons and dreams. If all that I write isn’t flattering or appealing to one’s pride and comfort then all that I write must be conjecture or disparaging or disparaging conjecture. Finding no time or space for publicly-appraised saints or sinners or those announcing themselves as friends or enemies, I try hard to avoid following or being followed just as I try hard to never adapt or aspire after icons or dreams for my very own, affording me a very different set of weaknesses from evidently everyone else.
Nobody of the modern world seems to honestly want equality, or revolution. They want to share in whatever luxury, but never the burdens which cause luxuries to exist. Sharing in profits but not the labor and absolutely never any blame to the extent that the slightest discomfort or inconvenience is regarded as a deadly threat. Meanwhile everyone keeps a mental if not public list of which lives they themselves are all too happy to disregard, whether it’s the gays or the Jews or the unborn; persons who act and speak differently, who vote differently or pray differently or fuck differently. If not willing and able to directly kill then perfectly willing and able to co-sign the same results by others, or to turn a blind eye when those who won’t love you back suffer consequences for leading a life of their own. Anyone not openly servicing you either an insignificant non-playable character at best or at worst, an evil needing to be obliterated, pronto. Everyone rejects my definition for woke, as being everything with a purpose incidentally other than to recreate one’s dreams, for the same reasons that everyone would rather pin the ultimate blame for what’s wrong with society or the world on Capitalism or racism or sexism or whatever, as opposed to the ego rooted in all. Because they need their list of demands to be the prized and favorable exception to all rules, they need to pardon their own ego’s vanities, or that of what suits their interest. People stopped fishing coyly for compliments a long time ago, now they demand it, and if strangers lapse in praising your cosplay then they are automatically presumed to be inferior or malicious in intent. Everybody justifies their own bad decisions, their vices, sins and crimes, while leaping to attack mode should anyone anywhere not play along. Everyone, projecting their own arrogance and projecting their own ignorance just as frequently as projecting their own fears and lust and wrath.
Wanting love from all those they would never even consider loving back. When of all matters love especially is never a thing that can be owed, not to anyone or for anything. Maybe, the entire shape of human character can be defined by the degrees in which they accept love and degrees by which they give it, if at all. And whether we can deny love given to us or deny any love be returned to the world around us, unabridged and unmolested, or whether we might survive our own pursuits of happiness without either giving or receiving love altogether, that to my mind is what defines self-determination, autonomy and self-dependence all in one. Mandating specifically what persons other than ourselves could or should love violates that inherent right. And finding no person, place or thing for myself to love, that is how I spend mine, for as I recognize the cost which love entails regardless the person, place or thing, I make no demands of it from others.
Which would be a reverse-God-complex.
But no interpretation of evil would include it refuting all love for itself. How might a void like so ever plausibly fill a grave? Is there a spiritual equivalent to antimatter? Might we instead re-appropriate its culture, or would claiming what’s nothing be inappropriate in metaphysical case studies as well? What is to be gained by nothing other than my self? Does the universe not begin where your own reach fails? If each and every probability of good and evil beyond what you’ve thus far experienced will always be beyond your grasp, until experienced, then it’s your hand only to inhibit your potentials for experiences and not what they bring. Effects simply do not arrive before causes or without. I may never love the world just as the ass of Hermione Corfield may well indeed never conceivably love my prick, but unto themselves that would never be a justification for me to kill the world or for her ass to destroy my prick. Rather, the lack of my love allows the world to grow toward different fulfillment, just as the lack of love from her ass allows my prick differing fulfillment. Unlike where regards love’s subjectivity, fulfillment of love never carries the weight of its potential. So I find it eternally righteous how so many are so eager to stake claims on the thoughts and feelings of others alongside the sun, the moon and the stars, when all we can ever hope for is the nothing which we will never experience for ourselves.
And so have I every right toward nothing myself, if nothing else. As do all things, we are truly only ever enriched by not having each other, and any culture which prolongs itself unready, unwilling and unable to survive such a nature is no culture at all. It’s nothing better than some ego’s misfired willpower, ironically, regardless the appealing promise. For embracing anything is what guarantees promise goes unfulfilled, whereas the universe, consisting of all the nothing to be embraced, alone maintains every promise appeal or not. While the only certainty the universe contains is the lack thereof, in reflection of that the only certainty I indulge is the uncertainty of the world, straight down the shit-hole to the principles and convictions of all those before and after me. Claiming no icons or dreams as my own, do I not require the sacrifices of others, and so do I allow all life near and far to determine its own usefulness. Free of love from me, and free of misfired willpower’s love regarded for me.