First off, darkfic as an umbrella term encompasses a lot of subjects and ‘dark’ topics, abuse being only one of many. It may be therapeutic for people who’ve endured abuse, but it can also be helpful for people who’ve struggled with other forms of trauma, or with mental illness, or other negative things. Depictions of intense, dark experiences can serve as a catharsis by being a direct analog for one’s own experiences, but they can also function more indirectly as a parallel, or a metaphor. Someone who has not been assaulted, but who has struggled with mental illness, may find a story about an assault victim resonating with them as they can identify with the fear and lack of control. And someone who has never been through a specific traumatic experience, but has a lot of fear of it and cultural anxiety around it, may feel bolstered by stories of characters surviving and recovering from that experience.
So for many people, with many different experiences, there can be a direct, therapeutic/comforting benefit to darkfic.
But darkfic doesn’t need to be therapeutic.
There are, of course, other kinds of benefits. Someone who has never been abused might read a story featuring abuse (and clearly tagged for it) and because of it, identify potential warning signs in a real life relationship down the road and know to get out early before things get worse. Or, they might develop a better understanding of what abuse victims go through and as a result, have more empathy for real-life survivors they encounter.
But it’s also 100% ok to like darkfic purely for entertainment value! It is, after all, fiction.
Dark stories challenge us – and we can really enjoy that challenge. They take us to extremes of emotion and the human experience. They plumb the depths of the human id. Even someone with the most charmed life still lives in a world where bad things happen, and even the sweetest, naive person has the capacity for darkness in them. Darkfic lets all of us explore those in relative safety. It makes us feel, and can thrill and horrify us as much as any thriller or horror movie. It can make us consider our own darkness, and be more aware of it. And it can take us to a place so much worse than our reality, that when we resurface into our mundane lives, there’s a sense of relief; we’ve escaped from our escapism, and our hum-drum lives seem so much better and more manageable by comparison.
Plenty of people create dark content who aren’t abuse survivors. There are books with very dark themes that are written by, edited by, published by, and consumed and made popular by people who have not been abused, but which may prove a lifeline for a survivor – one that might not have existed if the entire genre was limited to only people with lived experience. And by accepting that anyone can produce or consume dark content, we allow survivors the protection of anonymity, by not forcing anyone to disclose and reveal their trauma in order to justify liking a work without being harassed and shamed for it. Creating an exclusive club of heavily-scrutinized creators and readers who have to be ‘this traumatized to ride’ helps no one. Hell, trying to pass moral judgement on anyone by scrutinizing the potential reasons they may have for enjoying certain kinds of fictional reading material, rather than looking at their actions toward real breathing human beings, is utterly inane. Especially when fiction – including, and sometimes especially dark fiction – can be used to expand our horizons beyond our own lived experiences make us more thoughtful, empathetic people on the whole.
Apparently, a lemon is not naturally occurring and is a hybrid developed by cross breeding a bitter orange and a citron. Life never gave us lemons; we invented them all by ourselves.
So, today, a woman came into our shop. It was a woman I’ve only heard my parents refer to as ‘the Deaf Lady’. My mum had told her about me, explained that I was doing Sign Language, and come to find me on a day she knew I was working.
But today, she didn’t need her lawnmower repaired. In fact, she hadn’t touched it since it had been, and as far as she knew everything was fine.
She’d come in to sign to me.
She waved hello, and instantly explained that my mum had told her I would be in today. I asked her how she was, and the smile that she had on her face was the biggest I’ve ever seen.
And we spent about an hour in my family’s little shop, talking about everything. She told me about her life, about how she’d lived in the same house for 60 years.
She’d been born deaf, and been a Brownie, but never a Guide, because of the War… she’s now 86.
She had some amazing stories to tell, and twice she cried. One of those times was remembering her youth, and the other was when she was explaining to me that her husband had died around 20 years ago, and how he’d been the last person she’d known that could communicate with her.
She’s been alone for 20 years, living in a silent world, unable to communicate with anyone for the most part. The most interaction she has is when she writes things down for people, but she’s struggled to make any recent friends, and her family is long gone.
Now someone explain to me what’s wrong with every school teaching a certain amount of Sign Language, and for colleges to offer it more freely and frequently. People should be encouraged to learn BSL, because otherwise we’re cutting ourselves off from talking to around 8 million people or so (in the UK alone).
That’s millions of people who are no less important than you are, who have their own stories to tell, and the same need for communication as anyone else on this tiny little planet.
J. cried today because it was the first time for a long time that anyone has asked her for her name, or listened to her stories.
She’s also coming back into work tomorrow, to sign with me, and help me practice. But also – because we’re only human – for the company.
Every school should offer the native sign language of their region.
Normalize and celebrate language in all its modes, and the cultures that go with it.
This is how you write about disabled people accomplishing things. You focus on what they accomplish while acknowledging their disability but not framing them as impressive for just doing something while disabled.
This blog covers women from history who were badass. This post focuses on Sarah Biffin as a person and artist not as a diabled body, not as inspiration porn. This is how you write about disabled people.
Tonight at the gym a man who looked like fuckin Thor asked me out and when I told him I was a lesbian he goes “oh. Chill. You know, my sister and I work out a lot together. She’ll be here tomorrow, same time.”
Like…did Thor just wingman me?
i can’t believe you got a date with cate blanchett
I see her as a survivor. In many ways, she does exactly what all other characters on the show do. And quite often she does things that – if she were male – she would be lauded for. So, for me, it’s so refreshing to play a female character that does not have to be likeable. Why does she need to be likeable? Nobody else on this show does! She has to survive. And so she does the things that ensure her survival. That’s it.
Artisan Scribbles 