Bibliotheca: The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

It's Halloween, it's Bibliotheca, and like the shriveled monkey's paw of a human being that I am, I have to put an unexpected, cursed twist on every wish and prompt unfortunate enough to come my way. More specifically, the prompt of the month is Horror. I'm pretty good with typical horror--  I don't scare easy, though I do startle at loud noises and fascism. But what really scares me in my lolita life is visibility.

I'm going to preface this with the fact that I'm, by nature, pretty introverted. In person, I'm outgoing to the point of impulsivity, but it always fatigues me and wears on my sanity meter like a meet-and-greet with an eldritch monstrosity. At events, I will frequently say incredibly stupid things, forget peoples' names, make loud and embarrassing mistakes, and generally be more of a nuisance to myself than to any innocent victim in the vicinity. 

Every time I make one of my (frequent and obvious) mistakes, I feel guilty for embarrassing the people around me. The deep shame of screwing up someone's name chills my blood in a way that a movie monster never could. But I keep doing events and screwing up. So, then, why bother?

The short answer: duty. Every village needs its idiot, and I am more than qualified to be a fool. At this point, I've been stumbling drunkenly through the lolita community for long enough that I feel like I'm experienced enough-- never a true expert like some esteemed comm-mates of mine, but certainly qualified to be a Big Sibling in a certain advice group. I have accepted that, no matter how much care I put into it, without mugshots and/or field notes, I will never remember all of the wonderful lolitas' many names. 

I will forget your name, but not your thoughts on synthetics.

But just because my name recall sucks, that doesn't mean I'm not trying my best. New lolitas often feel scared to break the ice, and a suitably awkward, imperfect, yet experienced bulldozer of a lolita can ease the anxiety that comes from unfamiliar social situations. As paralyzing an experience as non-reciprocal recognition between lolitas can be, there's something much, much worse. 

That is, the abject horror of meeting a non-lolita who feels entitled to lolitas' time, space, and image.

No ma'am/sir/other, I am not one of those Genshin Impacts, or in a play, or a maid costume, or a costume contest in general, or a historic reenactor, and I'm definitely not a living doll or pretending to be a kid. I am an adult who enjoys wearing clothing.

Wearing clothes that stand out can be empowering, but it can feel dangerous too. I've had people photograph and film without my permission, though usually a "Please stop" or "$5 for photos" is enough of a deterrent. I've heard of lolitas who have been followed, accused of participating in inappropriate behaviors, and even had people touch them, just for the simple crime of existing in a stylish way. 

Participants in counter-cultures have long been demonized and seen as monstrous or antisocial. But, to anyone with a pair of eyes, the real monsters are those "normal people" who think that others' mode of dress obligates them to humor onlookers.  Outsiders always see the elaborate architecture of our chosen appearance, but the idea that there's a human being under the petticoat seems more unreachable than the person in a werewolf's fur.

I'm pretty nice about these things, as far as I can tell. But my first priority is the same when dealing with external incursions as it is with internal issues-- I have a duty to my community to keep people safe. Because I am more bullheaded than most, I can deflect negative outside engagement away from more vulnerable lolitas (especially teens), and because I can, I must. Lolita may be a maiden's armor, but this feral shambling mess of fabric arms themself with pointed questions, loud discussions, and deliberate distractions.

So the real horror, in the end, is my social skills, for good and for ill.

Happy Halloween to all who celebrate, and happy discount decor and candy day tomorrow to my fellow goths!