Читать книгу Rise Speak Change - Girls Write Now - Страница 14
ОглавлениеI chose to write about how my obsession with comic books—which seemed the opposite of my personality—has allowed me to grow into who I am, both as a writer and as a person.
I never knew that I would be obsessed with comics. When I was ten, I loved playing with dolls and watching Barbie movies. But one day, when my father suggested I watch an action movie with him, there was just something about the speed of the movie and the way it had my heart thumping that caught my attention and never let go. Watching action movies became a ritual for me and my dad, and seeing Batman: The Dark Knight was the most memorable moment of all. I liked Batman because he was full of convictions, emotions, and even flaws, whereas other superheroes tend to be practically flawless. I also appreciated how Batman’s world paralleled ours, but was much darker.
I wanted to find out more about this world and soon realized a whole universe existed in the form of comic books. I felt a sort of excitement build up in my chest as I surfed the Internet for local comic book stores on my bulky laptop. I remember tearing/ripping a messy sheet of paper from my notebook to write down the locations. It was Saturday by the time I worked up my courage to tell my dad to drive me there. I remember feeling butterflies because I didn’t know what to expect once I got there—I mean, I had never been in a comic book store before.
My fears were unfounded as soon as I entered and immediately noticed how quiet and calm the store was. The sun poured in from the windows, making the comics that were tucked away in plastic covers glimmer. I know I must have looked confused because an employee, who would later become a close friend, came up to ask what I was looking for. When I asked to see Batman comics, he calmly and pridefully brought me over to a section that was entirely dedicated to them. My eyes immediately widened. The colorful images, big words, and perfectly drawn characters made my heart thump with excitement. I wanted to read as much as I possibly could, so from then on, every Friday after school, I went to the comic book store to check out new issues. You could say that I basically grew up in the comic book store. Eventually, the workers and I began to develop a close bond based on our love for comics. I became comfortable in that small community of avid comic book lovers. Now when the employees see me, I get more than just a robotic “Hello, welcome,” but a loud “Hello, Diamond!” accompanied by a warm hug.
My love for comics is fueled by these friendships but also by the colorful worlds and compelling storylines of comic books, which transport me to a whole new world. From eighth grade to my senior year of high school, the comic book store has always been there for me. It served as a sanctuary where I could release everyday stress by escaping into the world of moving images. Without the comic book store, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I wouldn’t be as bubbly as I am now since my shyness slips away whenever I talk about comic books. Without comic books I wouldn’t know how to effectively create intriguing characters who have emotions and flaws, but are heroes at the same time. The comic book store remains a place where I can be the purest form of myself, and because of that, it will always be a part of my life.
Comforts of Silence
DORA VANETTE
Working with Diamond on writing connected to the theme of Rise Speak Change made me pause to consider what these words mean to me personally—and I realized that my discomfort with them spoke volumes.
Half an hour into meeting my husband’s parents for the first time, his father said: “She sure doesn’t talk much, does she?” His bluntness was of course embarrassing, but it offered some relief as well. If anything, he wasn’t wrong in his observation, and I took his words as acknowledgment and permission to continue as I had, cocooned in the familiar comfort of silence. Coming from a place where lives tend to be small (in the most beautiful sense of that word) and deference for authority is unquestioned, I have never seen silence as anything but a warm and comfortable (and of course painfully privileged) place; one that allows you to listen, observe, and learn without fear of conflict or humiliation. When people wonder about my love of rules and dislike for confrontation, I usually just shrug my shoulders and recite a saying I heard growing up: “People in this country tend to be much better servants than they are masters.” And they should know, as my country has experienced numerous regimes, both domestic and foreign, over the past couple of centuries. I still see little shame in that sentiment; the world would likely be a much better place without us lapsing into expectations of something ever-grander, but the one thing I am learning is to question my fondness of silence. The quality that allowed me to observe the world for such a long period of time has made me realize that there comes a moment when observing is just not good enough. Brought on by adulthood, fostered by New York, and sparked by changes in the world, I’ve been teaching myself how to speak. The attempts come with their own set of growing pains; sometimes the words stumble out and other times they don’t come out at all, despite my sincerest attempts to will them out. But they are forming and their shapes are becoming more distinct, so perhaps one day, and hopefully soon, they will be just the words I need.
