by Shaker hallelujah_hippo
I've got "White Dude Saves the World Fatigue."
I'm a physicist, a gamer, a comic book lover, a metal and rock fan, an avid reader, an amateur artist and poet, a lover of movies at the cinema, and Springsteen is my go-to comfort music.
These interests are integral parts of who I am. But I am suffering from a malaise, a disinterest in my favorite things.
So many of the things that I seek out as inspiration, escapism, entertainment, and fun serve only to remind me that I don't matter—at least, not as much as the white, cis, straight, able-bodied, Western men saving the world (or the universe). Even the anti-heroes and villains typically fail to encompass my existence.
It's like almost no one who makes stories even realizes I exist, much less seeks to get inside my head and sympathize with my character. Like I am a figment of my own imagination.
Like everyone else on the margins I feel relegated to being a great sidekick at best or an offensive stereotype if I show up at all. Sometimes being absent or merely being glimpsed in passing is a relief.
And it makes me angry.
And it makes me sad. Because I expect more, and I keep being disappointed.
Anyone else want to (and able to) commiserate about this feeling?
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